The last of the trilogy, The High Lord revolves around the title character. Sonea must discover whether he is as ruthless and unprincipled as she has been led to believe or whether he has enough reason to justify it.

The book felt a little more untidy than the last. Rothen seemed to flap about at a loose end for much of the time. Savara seemed more of a plot device than a proper character. The change in the relationship between Sonea and Akkarin was unconvincing, at least on Akkarin’s part. The epilogue weakened the ending and seemed unnecessary.

However the pace was good, as were the settings. Not a bad read and definitely better than the first book.

The second book in the trilogy, The Novice, as the title suggests, follows Sonea’s training as a magician. Her background as a slum dweller makes it difficult for her to fit in with the other novices, who take to picking on her. In the meantime, one of her allies, Lord Dannyl, is promoted to Guild Ambassador and sent on a secret mission to trace a journey the High Lord made years ago. It is hoped Lord Dannyl might uncover the origins of some of the High Lord’s dubious activities.

Thankfully, this was a much better book than the last one. The characters are much stronger and actually grow a little, particularly Dannyl. The plot is still a bit predictable in places and parts of it reminded me a bit of Harry Potter. In fact Regin reminded me strongly of Draco Malfoy from time to time. Nevertheless, the depiction of Sonea’s victimisation was well done and quite strong. The universtiy also came across very vividly.

All in all, a much more polished effort than the last book.

The blurb best sums this book up:

Each year, the magicians of Imardin gather together to purge the city streets of vagrants and miscreants. Masters of the disciplines of magic, they know that no ordinary lowlife can oppose them. But their protective shield is not as imprenetrable as they think.

Sonea, angry, frustrated and outraged by the treatment of her family and friends, throws a stone at the shield, putting all her rage behind it. She is amazed when it sails unrestricted through the barrier and knocks a magician unconscious.

The Guild’s worst fear has been realised: there is an untrained magician loose in Imardin who must be found before her uncontrolled powers can destroy herself and the city.

This book started off on the wrong foot for me, with a contradiction in the first paragraph (is the wind howling because of what it sees or is it silent because of what it sees?). The next few chapters did little to improve my opinion. The characters were stereotyped and the description clumsy. There were info dumps about how the world worked. There were words changed simply to make the world feel different—for example, ale became bol and there were substituted words for tea, coffee and trouble. Some very lazy world-building right there.

Having familiarised the reader with everything, it picked up a little bit. However, overall it remained a very unsatisfying read. The characters didn’t seem to develop much (with the possible exception of Cery). There was no explanation as to why Sonea wanted to go home so badly. And home to where, given that had been effectively destroyed in the beginning? Even setting that aside, the reader may have sympathised more if they’d been allowed to see more of what her life was like there. Instead we end up with cardboard cutouts of parents.

All in all, I feel that there are better stories out there waiting to be published.

The title of The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency is a bit deceptive. Yes, it is about a female detective-one Precious Ramotswe-but it is certainly not your average detective story. In fact, it has very little to do with the genres of crime, mystery or thriller, as can be deduced by the bright cover. Instead, the reader is taken into the slow-paced world of Botswana, where Mma Ramotswe makes it her business to investigate matters both large and small.

Chapters are largely episodic; it is rare for one of Mma’s cases to take more than a chapter. But don’t be fooled—this is in no way a fast-paced book. Instead, it is a book so relaxed, it borders on slow, echoing the atmosphere of the society it depicts.

I must admit that this slow pace took me a bit by surprise. I’d thought that this slim volume would make an excellent travelling volume—and the short chapters contribute to the impression it is ideal for this purpose. But I think to really appreciate it, the book has to be read in peace with a cup of tea.

Its voice is really its strength. It has a straight-forward feeling that is deceptively simple. I felt that it told more than it showed, in the manner of a talented storyteller, or perhaps a chat with an old friend. However, its descriptions, particularly of the countryside, were excellent and quite evocative. I felt right at home there (and wondered how similar Africa and Australia might look).

Overall, however, I found it a little too slow for my tastes. There was somewhat of a connecting plot, but I found it made its appearence too late and wasn’t strong enough to prevent me from repeatedly putting the book down. Also, I was a bit puzzled by Precious’ change of heart in the last chapter and felt that perhaps there could have been a bit more leading up to that.

All in all, a lovely read, but not enough to keep me coming back.

The Virgin’s Lover is a historical novel that focuses on the early years of the reign of Queen Elizabeth I. It tells the tale of the young queen, her lover Robert Dudley, and his wife Amy. Despite being married, Robert Dudley seeks to court the queen and thus gain the crown for himself.

I noticed that there was a significant discrepancy between the writing around the story and the story itself with regards to the focus of the tale. The author’s note seemed a strange note to end on because it left me with the impression that the book should have been some great mystery or at any rate that it was in some way Amy’s story. This was backed up by the blurb and the fact that the opening chapter was written with a focus on Amy. However, Amy herself gets very little stage time and the title gives a better indication of the focus of the story—Robert Dudley. Perhaps this could have been made clearer from the beginning.

I was pleased to see that Gregory got rid of the irritating first person perspective she used in The Queen’s Fool, however there was plenty else to irritate me in its place. The opening paragraph was particularly annoying and all the more so for being repeated in the next chapter—the metaphor seemed forced the first time and the repetition did it little favour.

The characters were, again, thoroughly unlikeable people, with the possible exception of Cecil. The female characters in particular were incredibly weak. Elizabeth’s situation did remind me of an abusive relationship at one point, but overall her vacillation and her arrogance did very little to endear her.

Though Amy wasn’t quite the raving lunatic she was at times in The Queen’s Fool she is nevertheless deluded to the point of absolute stupidity. She manages to redeem herself a little after the first 250 pages (during which she still gets very little stage time), but slides back again with the way she grasps onto anything that even remotely resembles hope. I felt like shaking her and telling her to have some self respect.

The book does have a few things to recommend it, however. It gets points from me for sharing continuity with The Queen’s Fool. It also illustrates very clearly what it means to be pariah in the closing stages of Amy’s story when not even her family will shelter her and the doctor refuses to treat her. A sad highlight indeed.

Overall, I’m left to conclude that Gregory’s work is not really for me.

As you’d expect of a novel by Philippa Gregory, the Queen’s Tale is a historical tale. It follows the fortunes of Hannah Green, a Jewish girl who has fled the Inquisition from Spain to London. However, it appears it’s no safer here, as she is discovered to have the gift of prophecy, forced into becoming a holy fool at court and trapped in the intrigue that takes place.

I wasn’t much enamoured with the book. My biggest problem was with the characters. I felt there was very little depth to them, particularly on an emotional level. They felt rather wooden, simply going through the motions of history. Hannah was shallow, irritating and was conveniently in the right place for the big historical moments. Often she came across as more of a plot device than anything else, and on a few occasions I wondered why she wasn’t cut completely and the story told from the perspective of the actual historical figures.

Queen Mary stood out as being more well rounded, though I still feel that there wasn’t sufficient depth given to her changes of heart in places.

It did get better towards the end, where Hannah’s personal story is given a bit more space. It was also nice to see her grow into a more mature character. In the beginning, in particular, she comes across as being far too outspoken for someone who has lived so many years in fear. Nor do I feel that her “Sight” is sufficient excuse for this plain-spokenness, given how rarely this gift manifests itself.

All in all, it was vaguely interesting to see how the historical characters were portrayed, but it has not won Philippa Gregory another fan.

I’m somewhat of a rock collector, but relatively new to it, so I found this book to be a wonderful resource.

It’s hard for me to decide what the most fascinating thing about this book was—the text or the pictures. I found myself eagerly turning the pages to see what would be revealed next.

The book groups its subjects into families of rock (such as beryl, quartz, jade and feldspar, to name a few). I found this gave a wonderful overview of how each gem family forms and the slight differences that give birth to particular variations.

The book also details the general history of the gem family (and particular history of notable gems, such as the DeLong Star Ruby), legends and mythology surrounding it, how that particular kind of gem is evaluated and where it is mined. There is also some interesting history on the Museum and the famous jewelry company Tiffany.

The photographs are spectacular. Photographing gems is difficult to do well and this book provides wonderful examples of how it should look. Nor is there any shortage of space for the photos—the stars of the show are given plenty of room.

I do have a couple of quibbles with the design however. There are a few pages where there is an abundance of white space. It would have been nice to have a few smaller photographs to fill it in. The second down point was the captions, particularly for photographs with multiple gems and multiple kinds of gem. The tagging of gems in the captions was not done in a methodical way and I found this lead to some confusion over which gem was which.

But overall, I felt it was a fascinating book. It was on loan to me, so I shall have to see about finding my own copy. And perhaps visiting the Museum…

I read this comic book the day after seeing the movie. Some comparisons are inevitable. I hope you’ll bear with me.

This is an alternate history, with the main bulk of the story set in 1985. It’s centered on two groups of super heroes; the first generation are mostly old or dead while the second generation have largely been forced into retirement. Aside from a few notable exceptions, these super heroes are simply regular people in costume. The story begins with the murder of one of the heroes. This brings a few of the other second generation heroes out of retirement to investigate.

In the tradition of Alan Moore, the comic has a gritty feel to it. Society is corrupt and the future is looking bleak. Even our “heroes” are tarnished, with each one having a clear and unique flaw. It’s a story that examines ethics and asks big questions that will leave you thinking long after you’ve finished reading it. I enjoyed the complexity and the philosophy.

What I felt was lacking a bit was emotion. Perhaps this was my lack of literacy in the genre or simply because I’d seen the movie so recently. There are obviously going to be differences in form and the movie was better able to draw out that emotion and linger on it.

On the other hand, the comic had the edge on delivering the story and was full of rich detail that the movie cut back on a bit, no doubt due to time constraints. The comic book provided this detail by featuring a section at the end of each chapter that was not actually in comic book form. Instead these sections were presented as extracts from biographies, text books, letters, newspapers and advertising.

Overall, it was a thought-provoking read and gripping enough for me to read the whole lot in a single day, despite already knowing the ending. Well worth the time.

This book is not really about Zen or motorcycle maintenance. What it’s really about is exellence and reason.

The story has three threads to it that are interwoven. The first thread is about a man on a motorcycle trip with his son. The second is about how a professor went insane. The third thread is a philisophical study of exellence and reason. The man on the motorcycle and the professor are different personalities of the same person. The professor went insane as he pursued the philosophy of excellence and reason.

This is drastically oversimplifying what is quite a complex book. It demands a lot of thought from the reader, particularly in relation to the philosophy. In that respect, it was really the wrong book for me to read at this time, since I didn’t have a lot of energy to put towards it.

Perhaps that was also the reason I found it rather slow to begin with. The philosophy seemed a bit didactic and the story around it was just that—a frame for the philosophy. It picked up a bit once the threads began to come together a bit more, particularly the philosophy and the professor. Overall, it failed to engage me in any great depth, however.

There were two other things that bothered me. First of all, I don’t know anyone that spends as much time maintaining their bike as the unnamed narrator does, and I know quite a few motorbikers. How many times does the oil need to be changed?

Finally, I was aware of how much society has changed since the book was written; the version I was reading was the 25th anniversary edition. This isn’t to say that the things talked of are irrelevant. Yet even so, I wasn’t completely convinced that they were entirely relevant either.

Overall, the book wasn’t at all what I expected and failed to engage me at the level it required.

This book has been sitting on my to read pile for entirely too long, particularly since it is so wonderfully written. Set in England in 1665-6, it’s about a village that suffers from the Plague and chooses to quarantine themselves in the hope it won’t spread further. It is written in first person from the point of view of Anna Frith, an 18 year old widow and housemaid to the young rector and his wife.

The book is divided into four sections. It starts out in the fall of 1666 to set the scene and then goes back to the spring of 1665 to tell of how the Plague befell the village and how they survived it. It returns to 1666 to finish off the tale and an epilogue forms the final section.

I was hooked as soon as I read the first small section. It really is wonderfully written. The whole tale was underpinned by the powerful emotions of those suffering through tragedy—not only the profound grief, but also the small moments of joy, though they are more rare. The historical setting has also been brought beautifully to life, not only in the details of day-to-day life but also in terms of the words Anna uses to tell her tale.

It is definitely a tale with feminist leanings, particularly towards the end. I also especially liked the different portrayals of witchcraft with the real witches being surprisingly modern. It seemed a much more intelligent-and, to me, more realistic-than current stereotypes of the time.

Unfortunately, I did have a few issues with the book. Perhaps the most simple (and probably least relevant) was the titling of the sections, particularly the middle and largest section. It is titled “Spring, 1665”, which is when the section begins. However, it covers the remainder of that year and halfway into the next, and I found it irritating to see the section title heading up every left-hand page.

Another issue was the manner of Anna’s telling the story. In the third section she makes reference to previously having “set down” the first section, giving the impression that she is writing the tale. However, this allusion is never followed up and the rest of the tale is free from any indication it is being written at all. I feel it would have been more consistant to simply leave the reference out.

When I got to the end of the second section, I though to myself that I could probably have finished reading there and be happy. It turns out that impression was right. A revelation about one of the major characters just pages away from the epilogue left me struggling to reconcile the new information with what had taken place before. I felt that, like Life of Pi, it was aiming for a last-minute revelation that shows the rest of the tale in a completely different light. Unlike Life of Pi, I didn’t feel it succeeded, but left me rather disappointed.

I feel it was a great shame because on the whole I really enjoyed the book.