Book Review: "Wives and Daughters" by Elizabeth Gaskell

This is the story of the self-effacing Molly Gibson and her incandescent step-sister Cynthia Kirkpatrick, as they negotiate the thorny territory of life, love and loss in a small Victorian town.

This book is a lesson to me in reading the product description more carefully. I was not aware of Mrs Gaskell's inconvenient demise, nor the consequent fact of the final few pages of the book being unfinished. I found out both facts at the same time, as I read the "last" page of the book. After ploughing through the hefty tome for two weeks I was more than a little disappointed.

I'll state initially that the free Kindle version is badly formatted, with typos and paragraph indentation errors causing a mild distraction.

This book is intended to be a character study rather than a plot driven narrative, which would be fine if the characters had more spark about them. I was dismayed in the early chapters at Molly's lifelessness and the Hamleys' genteel tedium. Even Mrs Gibson, the most developed character, felt a little limp and in need of some ironic sparkle in her treatment.

Cynthia's arrival brought the book to life and her flawed personality lit up the pages. I enjoyed seeing Cynthia spar with her mother, at which times the wit and irony of the writing almost reached the level of Jane Austen. I felt that Gaskell pushed the envelope a little with Cynthia: she is certainly a more risque character than any other female since Lydia Bennett. Cynthia is amoral: a flirt and a jilt who trifles with and abuses everyone around her, even Molly. The triumph of Cynthia is that she knows her flaws, accepts them and feels no need to make efforts to improve herself.

There aren't many events in the novel, but Molly tends to find herself in the middle of all of them: her father's marriage, the trials and tribulations at Hamley Hall and Cynthia's trail of destruction. I became frustrated that although Molly is present for these events she takes no active role in them beyond murmuring comforting words, and there is always something or someone to buffer her from conflict: she is removed to the Hamleys' to save her encountering Mr Coxe; when there is irritation and argument towards Mrs Gibson it is Cynthia who enters into the fray, leaving Molly hovering in the background; and when scandal rears its head against Molly she does not face her accusers, but hears of the issue in the safety of her own home, and from the kindness of her father. She does not resolve the issue herself: a combination of her illness and Lady Harriet's intervention serves to restore her standing in society. Such a passive heroine irritated me. I found Molly to be tedious, and would have preferred Cynthia to be the main character.

Lady Harriet is underused. She drops in an out of the story at intervals, acting as Molly's guardian angel and a bridge between the high people and the low. She is bright, lively and witty and far more engaging than Molly.

The central theme of the novel is marriage, but in contrast to many novels of the period marriage does not seem to do anyone in the novel any good. Those who marry for convenience such as Mr and Mrs Gibson, find themselves at odds with each other and with no common ground. those who marry for love such as Osborne and Aimee, find their way beset with difficulty and heartache. Cynthia marries for money and is initially happy. However given her inconstant nature and the dullness of her husband the long-term future of their marriage is doubtful.

Miss Browning calls marriage a "weakness", and it is certainly at the point of entering this state that characters are exposed to danger. Mr and Mrs Gibson become unhappy upon their marriage, and their unhappiness is reflected on to Molly. The question of Roger and Osborne's marriages are a cause of much conflict at Hamley Hall, and lead to dire consequences for the whole family. And Cynthia's flirtations and adventures cause scandal for her and for Molly.

The single characters, the Miss Brownings and the widow Mrs Goodenough, are silly old biddies, and their state is not to be envied either.

Mrs Gaskell conveys the precarious existence of women at the time: marriage was a necessity, but handling the business was frought with difficulty, and the outcomes mixed.

Rating: 3/5

"Four Legs Good; Two Legs Bad"

I want to talk about the misconception that indie books (usually ebooks) are intrinsically less valuable, and have less artistic merit than traditionally published (usually paper) books.

I stated recently that the ebook vs paperbook debate bores me. This is because it usually revolves around indie v traditional, and usually packs a whole lot of sweeping generalisations, compounded by flawed logic and an assumption that the worth of something can be determined by the format in which it is presented, or by the commercial clout behind it.

Oh and let's not forget the literary snobs, the people who say that indie writing is lowbrow, and traditionally published fiction is transcendent art. Snobs, I say to you: Katie Price is a published author. Attached to the same publishing family as James Patterson. Now shut up.

So why this undercurrent of supposition that Indie books are less worthy than their traditional counterparts?

First things first, it's (relatively) new, and people hate change. Maintaining the status quo is ingrained in our species, and if small changes such as "Coronation Street" being shown at 20:00 instead of 19:30 has the nation up in arms, no wonder the advent of indie publishing and the overhyped "death of the book" is heralded as the End of Days.

It's everyman: It demystifies the art of writing, making it accessible to any person who wishes to put pen to paper. Snobs and elitists resent this, feeling that true art becomes diluted in the fog of mediocrity, rather than celebrating the new well of talent which has been uncovered in ordinary human beings with ordinary day jobs. People like you and me. Remember when "Votes for Women" was a huge issue? Remember the attendant hysteria? Well, now we are all able to vote. Sometimes some of us don't vote, and sometimes we don't use our vote wisely. But we are empowered to make that decision and now it's normal. Indie publishing lets us explore our potential, without worrying about whether the book we want to send into the world is "of the moment" or whether it fits in with the values of a particular editor or publishing house.

And yes, there are some badly written indie books.

But consider this.

Some of the indie books I've read fall into the category other people call "Bad writing" but my opinion is that "bad editing" is more accurate. The ideas are usually sound, but the execution needs work. An indie author must market as well as write their book, and editors who price manuscript critiques at around £2000 are inaccessible when each copy of the book sells for £2.99 or less. The author will struggle to recoup the costs. So the books go out with grammatical and structural errors, and are branded as "bad". I think this is a problem the industry will resolve by itself. Independent editors are springing up to support independent authors, at prices to suit their independent pockets. I've launched my own version of the service because I think it's important to support indie authors and help shift power away from huge publishing houses. And traditionally published books are poorly edited as well. The entire "Harry Potter" series is woefully under-edited, and books five and seven are among the most bloated things I have ever read.

A great number of print books are also not well written, and this is inexcusable. Unlike the indie book a traditional book has been through editors, sub editors, lackeys, proof readers and marketing experts and at times it STILL isn't readable. See Sara Gruen's "Water for Elephants", a book so insipid, lifeless and cliched it's a wonder it made it on to the shelf at all.

I truly believe that Indie books are cutting edge. They often don't fit the mould of a publishing house and as a result give us the chance to experience something outside of the ordinary. Read the books of Rod Glenn. Yes, they have grammatical errors, and yes they could do with some strong structural editing, but the themes and ideas are extraordinary and risque: I'd bet my eyeballs no publishing house would touch his work for fear of the controversy it would cause.

I'm not trying to manipulate us into a state of "Four Legs Good; Two Legs Better", but I am trying to show that indie publishing, alongside traditional publishing, gives us a rich and diverse range of fiction from which to choose. Yes, both have flaws, but show me an art form that doesn't. Striving for improvement and advancement is what art is all about. But it shouldn't be an either/or war of attrition.

"All men are enemies. All animals are comrades."
- George Orwell, Animal Farm, Ch. 1

Book Review: "Dead Beat" by Remy Porter

"Haven, Population: 2000.
A place where Johnny sleepwalks the beat, counting down the hours to the end of another police shift. Burying the secret deeper.

But this is the day the world ends. The infection has spread unchecked, and now the dead have domain. Johnny is thrown into a fight to survive. The shattered community around him willing to do anything to stay alive.

But as putrefacted bodies close in, it's the villager's rotten hearts he begins to fear the most ... And beyond them the puppetmasters who started it all."

I'm not a fan of Horror. I usually find works in this genre to be by-the-numbers gore, with the only variation being in the level of imagination, and the amount of escalation, applied to the deaths.

And at first my opinion was confirmed. Page one starts with a grisly killing, and the early section of the book treats the reader to an impressive variety of horror-movie style shambling zombie attacks, near misses, zombie heads exploding and people getting jumped out at, left right and centre. And if that's the sort of thing you like, you'll be very happy.

Once the zombies have taken over and survivors begin banding together I was only mildly interested in the traditional horror-movie fightback. Then the character Jack Nation played his hand, and I was absolutely hooked.

Once the survivors work together and make a concerted effort it seems that they are able quite easily to fight the zombies, take back territory and even return to some semblance of normal existence. As the humans adjust it became clear that the main battle lines in the book were to be drawn not between human and zombie, but between human and human.

The tension between the Police Station and the Farm was well depicted, and the subtle nuances of human behaviour well illustrated. I particularly enjoyed the fact that although Johnny's community was more civilised the majority of the population chose to remain under the tyrannical rule of Jack at the Farm. I felt this section had a lot to say about the herd nature of the community, their attraction to strength, and their obedience to commands. Most of them were bland and nondescript and perfectly echoed their undead counterparts.

We don't know any of the characters before the advent of the apocalypse, and we are reminded of this fact late on in the book. Our previous judgements, which have been based solely on the response to the crisis are slightly revised and a note of caution enters.

The main characters Johnny and Summer didn't really engage my attention. There was a little too much bland heroism, and I felt Johnny's darkness could have been explored more deeply. I didn't really believe their love story as its beginnings were skated over, and lacked subtlety.

The two most vivid characters were Jack, and the criminally (pardon the pun) under-used Lester, whose life is rebuilt as the world crumbles around his ears. These characters were explosive, humorous and sinister by turns and I would have liked Lester's early research to yield more results, and his part in the story developed more strongly.

You never really find out the cause of the apocalypse, which normally would have bothered me. But in this book it's actually not that important to know the hows and whys, it's not a deconstruction of the zombies, it's an exploration of the atrocities humanity inflicts upon itself, even when facing extinction.

I thought this was a well-paced, tightly plotted novel and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. The various plot lines were introduced with skill and perfect timing and the late additions of the Kateyana and Alice/Trent issues helped to develop Johnny's character.

Although the book would have benefitted from a little tighter editing I found it to be a strong work which bucked against the trends of its genre.

Rating 4/5

Book Review: "Les Miserables" by Victor Hugo

Somewhere in this ponderous, million-page tome is a cracking little novella screaming to get out.

In true Victor Hugo style, allow me to digress.

When I was fifteen I was asked to write an essay of some 1200 words on the nature of resistance against the Nazis. Confident in my abilities as both researcher and writer I submitted a work some three times the word limit and had the smug smile wiped off my face when the essay was awarded an "E", and I was asked to rewrite it. My teacher told me that although it was well researched, well written and was in fact one of the best essays he had ever read, I had not demonstrated any ability to select and present relevant information to the reader. I had put in everything I knew, not what was needed.

So when I read Harry Potter (digression continues) I was always incensed that Hermione Granger got top marks for her work when it was clearly several times over the prescribed word limit, and contained yards of extraneous detail. Not one of her teachers (not even McGonigle or Snape) picked up on this. Once.

I had a similar feeling whilst reading Les Mis. My, Victor Hugo knew his stuff. From battle lines at Waterloo to the ponderous history of obscure convents, the novel is rich in detail. Much of it is extraneous. We really don't need to know the full history of the convent to understand the kind of life Valjean and Cosette live there. And we don't need quite so many chapters on the Bishop to understand that Hugo wishes us to know the value of charity, and not judge others too harshly. Of course, some of the information enhances the novel but I am a strong believer in fiction and if Hugo was writing a work of history then he should have removed the story and written a history. Having decided to write a novel it is my feeling that he should have driven his history and social commentary through the characters, plot and narrative, rather than removing us from the story for hundreds of pages at a time, fragmenting the narrative and slowing the pace to a crawl.

That's all I have to say about that.

When you stick with the story it's gripping and emotive. Hugo has created an ambitious work of social commentary which is visceral and illuminating. The plight of his characters-especially the children- in post-revolutionary Paris and its environs is extremely well drawn. Hugo creates vivid characters who evoke sympathy and he doesn't resort to the kind of pantomime characters utilised by that other great social commentator, Charles Dickens. I certainly felt Hugo's characterisation was superior.

Jean Valjean is a masterful character, embodying the novel's "march from evil to good". We sympathise with him early on, owing to his treatment at the hands of the Bishop's township.

Hugo states of the bishop,

"He condemned nothing in haste, and without taking circumstances into account. He said, 'Examine to road over which the fault has passed'".

It is this ability to examine circumstances, which we have but Javert does not, that characterises the simple conflict at the heart of the novel.

Valjean moves from the prison of the galleys to the prison of the convent, an outcast clinging to other outcasts. There is a great deal in the first half of the novel treating on the nature of imprisonment and punishment and the difference between voluntary and involuntary imprisonment. Some of my favourite passages of the book speculate on what the nuns gain from living in circumstances worse than those of the galley slaves, and how society benefits as a result.

I rather liked the character of Eponine, who is a tragic figure floating through the shadows of the story, of consequence to nobody. For every Cosette there is at least one Eponine.

I had a huge problem with Marius. I found him to be arrogant and hypocritical. At the "Jondrette" hovel he is not aware of the family's villainy, but he knows they are workshy scroungers. He nevertheless gives them money and perpetuates their lifestyle as he labours under the patronising assumption that those who are poor cannot possibly raise themselves from their situation. Poorness breeds indolence, and the cure is, apparently, blind charity. When he realises that the Jondrettes plan an ambush he stirs himself against them, but halts his plan when it seems they may be of use to him. Marius' morality is a moveable feast.

Towards the end of the novel Marius orchestrates an estrangement between Valjean and Cosette. Hugo bids us not to blame Marius, but I was already well down that road. Marius' utter hypocrisy in depriving Cosette of her father when he himself knew the pain of being forcibly removed from a parent was deplorable. Yes, Marius relents but only, again, when he realises that he has benefitted from Valjean's labours.

I'm not going into the courtship of Marius and Cosette. It was insipid and improbable, and it took up far too many pages.

This is an emotive work exploring the fallout from the French Revolution, which was meant to empower the people but in reality passed a lot of the common people by. Throughout the book various individuals are classified into groups by the authorities: police, criminals, gamins, nuns, bourgeois, royalist, revolutionary. Once you have been classified you cannot reclassify yourself, as Valjean's rehabilitation and Javert's pursuit attest. When Javert finds himself shocked as to his reaction to Valjean late in the book he realises a change is occuring in his own set of values. Since he knows he cannot spread that change to the rest of society his part in the story fizzles out as he no longer belongs in his group.

Hugo posits that poverty creates immorality as prison creates crime and while I do not wholly agree with him I enjoyed the characters he enlists to champion his theme.

Rating 3/5

Book Review: "The Sands of Carsaig" by Samantha J Wright

"Raised on the Isle of Mull in the middle of the nineteenth century, Lorna McFadden is surrounded by change. Not only is the wild and beautiful coastline subject to constant variation, the economic climate is vastly unstable. At the age of sixteen her pattern of life seems set on an unalterable course of hardship and poverty with no hope of anything better. Then one tragedy after another strikes, robbing Lorna of her beloved grandfather and threatening her family's livelihood. Against the backdrop of famine and the highland clearances Lorna battles the odds, seeking love and a new life elsewhere. They say that every cloud has a silver lining, but for Lorna it seems that tragedy may lead to something infinitely more valuable. This is a powerful debut novel from Samantha J Wright, a heart wrenching story about a love lost and found, about one couple's battle against the odds."

Samantha J Wright has created a sweeping historical romance set against the vastly contrasting backdrops of Highland Scotland and young Australia.

Throughout, this is a book which stays true to its central vision: portraying characters who struggle through adversity towards success, without succumbing to the temptation to join society at large in repressing weaker individuals.

There is a lovely duality between the Scottish and Australian sections of the novel. Both depict expansive, hostile landscapes which grant a grudging existence to human denizens of both old world and new. Both depict societies with a pitiless upper class and injured lower classes, and both have crisis points when the boundaries between classes are blurred.

The two central crises of the novel are the confusion and heartache that results from Alex Carnegie elevating Lorna above her natural station; and the death and thievery that occurs when Daniel McKay leaves the aborigine Jonny in charge of the goldmine. Both incidents show the inherent kindness of the characters in attempting to help those less fortunate, but the disasters that occur show that society's ills are not so readily cured.

As the main characters struggle for survival, so too do those around them, with many resorting to theft, murder and deception to get their way. In Australia, those who were at the bottom end of society in the old world find that they can perpetuate the injustices of their homeland: with themselves in the role of oppressors subjugating the aborigines. They become physically better off, but the price is moral bankruptcy.

The main characters are remarkably untouched by the violence around them, and their steadfastness proves Wright's point that it is not enough to survive in a harsh environment, you must live well and break the cycle of violence and injustice.

Wright has completed an impressive amount of research for this novel, and certain elements of the book, for example the prison ship crossing to Australia, are richer for it.

The themes and wild imagery are strong in the novel, but I feel it would have benefitted greatly from a tighter editing process. The main characters really needed to be fleshed out more, and more time spent in their heads rather than being told what they did/said/felt by an omniscient narrator. I would have liked more time spent on some key aspects of the characters' lives, for example how Lorna's training altered her, and I would have liked to see a more uncomfortable reintegration for her at Carnegie house, which would have been consistent with the themes of the book.

Rating 3.5/5

Theatre Review: "A Midsummer Night's Dream"; dir. Nancy Meckler; RSC Stratford

I was a little apprehensive about this play. In recent years RSC productions have favoured monochrome set design and gritty realism even in adaptations of Shakespeare's comedies. And as much as I am a scholar, the little girl inside me does so love fairies, bright colours and twinkly lights.

One of the reasons I love Shakespeare is that his work is infinitely malleable; the words flowing around so many different, contrasting and clashing interpretations. Where the RSC is spare and bleak; the exuberant and colourful open air productions of the Stafford Gatehouse Theatre bring choreographed warm-up acts; intricate sets and mad wigs. I always enjoy myself, but for those first few minutes on Monday, as I took my seat looking at scenery which depicted the inside of a warehouse, peopled with seedy Lock-Stock types, I worried for my favourite play.

As the play opened my worries seemed confirmed. Theseus seemed to have stepped straight from a Guy Ritchie film, and when I heard him speak I had to check the programme to make sure he wasn't being played by Ray Winstone. I enjoyed the conflict between Theseus and Hippolyta: his efforts to win her over versus her extreme hostility were delightful. More than in any other interpretation I have yet seen, I believed that this woman was an Amazon queen, and the struggles and history between the two rulers was palpable.

The stand-out performance of the piece was Lucy Briggs-Owen as a spectacularly dotty Helena. Her interpretation of her character's fawning devotion despite frequent knockbacks was by turns hilarious and touching. Her interaction with Matti Houghton's Hermia drew focus to the simmering tension between the two, but also added an interesting element of hero worship.

Once the play moved to the "wood near Athens" I became intrigued by Meckler's use of the idea of the "dream", and I loved the duality she introduced between the court of Theseus and the court of Oberon. Having read the programme before the performance, I knew Meckler had read studies around the importance of dreams, and specifically the effect a dream can have in helping us to resolve a problem which eludes our waking mind. Meckler pulled the play in to help Hippolyta (as Titania in her dream) to resolve her issues with Theseus, and also work out a solution for the four lovers. The dreamscape became wonderfully random at times, with chairs raising into and lowering from the rafters, and Titania and Oberon's final passionate embrace, which transformed them back into Theseus and Hippolyta, was inspired. I was completely absorbed by Meckler's interpretation and vision: it felt fresh, and was executed with a gothic ethereal grace.

My only complaint against the play is that at times the interplay between the characters, and the gloriously delicious words, were steamrollered by a brand of slapstick that made the words of the Bard seem largely irrelevant.

Allow me to illustrate.

When the couples reach their crisis point and Hermia and Helena fight in the woods, much is made of a highly choreographed fight sequence, while the words of the "high vs low" argument (which are hilarious and some of my favourite in all of Shakespeare) are delivered in a shrieking breathless rush.

When the Rude Mechanicals perform their play much hilarity ensues. However this is mainly through silly accents and horseplay. The WORDS of Pyramus and Thisbe, the hilarious mistakes made by Bottom and the asides of the married couples are not, in my opinion given due weight. As the comedy came from the slapstick and not the inherent humour of the words it felt a little as though the play was being "dumbed down".

The dual role of Puck/Philostrate as master of ceremonies both in the dream and waking world was a little disappointing, again, through a lack of time being spent on allowing the words of Shakespeare to shine through.

That said I thoroughly enjoyed the play, the performances were outstanding, the vision had integrity and was carried through the play with strength. I loved the 1960s style and "summer of love" overtones, and I felt Meckler had put a great deal of intelligence and thought into preparing her production.

Rating: 4/5