2012 - A Reading Year In Review

The close of the year is a decent opportunity to reflect upon and share a few of the books I’ve most enjoyed reading and haven’t yet had time to feature here.  Unsurprisingly, there are a few of these.

2012 was a year I set myself to expanding consciously upon my previous reading horizons and looking to material outside of my normal comfort zone, this being something I achieved in part – both as a result of ensuring varied content for the blog and otherwise.  This notwithstanding, there has also been plenty of time for genre reading – this being a firm favourite and something I tend to revert to at varied intervals.

Spec Fic

I’ve been reading spec fic ever since my parents bought me a copy of Diana Wynne Jones' Howl’s Moving Castle for a previous birthday.  Looking back, a number of this year’s reads fall within this category, such as the subject of my previous review entry; this also being a re-read for this year (as for many). 

Additional stand out reads for this year include Patrick Ness's A Monster Calls and my first reading experience in connection with the works of Catherynne M Valente – The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland In A Ship Of Her Own Making, described within the blurb upon the cover as “a glorious balancing act between modernism and the Victorian fairy tale, done with heart and wisdom” by Neil Gaiman.  Winner of the Andre Norton Award and similarly lauded by the author of The Last Unicorn, Tamora Pierce and Holly Black, this is one novel which deserves the praise heaped upon it.  I was similarly impressed by the highly anticipated follow up The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland And Led The Revels There.  Intelligent writing for smart readers.  Highly recommended.

Mixing YA into the melting pot here, I’ve also thoroughly enjoyed Kate Milford's The Boneshaker and The Broken Lands, which I read almost back to back, having ordered one whilst I was approximately halfway through the other.  Milford blurs the boundaries between fact and fiction by adding a certain amount of historical background into her tales of crossroads bargaining and demons and produces something noteworthy on each occasion as a result.  Genuinely entertaining reading.

Short Fiction

Probably not as many in this category as I would have liked, although I’m always on the look-out for suitable shorts.  I have, however, been dipping in and out of Shadow Show, the tribute anthology to Ray Bradbury and particularly enjoyed Kelly Link's contribution, Two Houses. 

During my random internet trawls for short fiction I also came across Calum Kerr's collection of flash fiction, 31, inspired by recent participation in NaNoWriMo and each entry of which was written in a single 10 to 20 minute sitting.  I, for one, enjoyed them, being partial to the odd piece of “shorter than short”.

Kate Milford’s The Kairos Mechanism probably also deserves a mention here, being novella length.  This is effectively a “bridge” story between The Boneshaker and her subsequent prequel novel, The Broken Lands but well worth the read simply on its own merits as a folklore based fantasy tale.  The project was originally Kickstarter self-funded but is also available in paperback and e-book format via Milford's own website.

Despite not having been published this year, I’m also mentioning Kat Howard's The Calendar of Saints as one of the pieces of short fiction which has had a significant effect upon me more recently.  A beautifully written tale of the blade as both instrument and point of honour.

Historical Fiction

YA also features here, with Elizabeth Wein's Code Name Verity being the one which impressed me the most.  Wein produces an affecting duel narrative detailing the fate of two friends who become involved in the British war effort – the “sensational team” referred to upon the back cover.  Gripping and full of well researched detail.

Crime/Thriller

Despite being (arguably) better known for her genre fiction, my most recent experience of Elizabeth Hand's work stems from her foray into the world of crime/literary thriller in the form of Generation Loss and Available Dark (another example of a prequel published subsequent to the events which follow it, similarly to Milford’s The Broken Lands).  An unlikely examination of art and redemption.

Graphic Novels

Graphic novels also feature within my 2012 reading list, despite this previously having been a neglected area for me.  Some of this is due in part to the sheer readability of Locke and Key, a series I’ve been following throughout this year and which arguably opened my eyes to a subsection of the bookshelf I’d previously been missing out on.  I’m eagerly awaiting the conclusion to this series and will hope for the possibility of stand-alones, even once the overall narrative arc is concluded.

Whilst this isn’t a comprehensive list of the works I haven’t previously referred to here for this year and isn’t intended to act as a “best of”  or “top five” or “ten” in the strictest sense, it does highlight at least a couple which I feel are well worth the time expended upon their contents.  Hopefully there’s something which may take your fancy and provide some reading material for the next occasion on which you have time for the written word. 

Places Historic (Selective Shorts Series)

Highlighting another short story I located courtesy of Lightspeed Magazine today, this being Holly Black's Heartless.

Heartless is a narrative concerning the aftermath of battle and destruction – and the pickings which may be sifted from the battle ground in that aftermath by those who follow in the wake of the warriors; the camp women who scavenge amongst the corpses.  Ada is one such and this is her story.  The story of a “hedge-witch no more”, forced to scrounge for the spoils of war as part of the camp or face the possibility she may be killed by those who have invaded her lands.

Death appears in many guises within what is a deceptively short story at 3656 words – not only does Ada make her way through the physical remnants of the soldiers’ remains as they lie discarded about the battlefield but she is faced with the choice concerning whether or not to leave a surviving soldier to his eventual demise.  When she attempts to abandon him she is prevented from doing so by an ancestral manes, whose innate capability for good or ill is rumoured to be questionable.

Similarly, sacrifice plays an important part within the overall story arc.  Ada wears a finger bone about her neck to sever her emotions from the situation in which she finds herself and ensure she feels no fear or pain.  Ultimately, as the story proceeds, it becomes clear that there is more than the literal and simplistic manner in which pain can be encountered and that there are circumstances within which failing to act or care may be more harmful than the alternative.  Further, Ada’s choice concerning whether to live or die mirrors her decision regarding the nobleman she must decide whether to aid or leave to death. 

The imagery related to the severed finger and manner in which Ada is thus rendered “heartless”, as per the title, is also neat, with Roman culture in mind.  An economic tale which takes us to places historic.   

A Lovely Little Love Song

The author of Goodnight Mister Tom and Back Home, Michelle Magorian, will be familiar to some already.  I, however, have a soft spot for one of her works which I’ve seen less “buzz” about online, A Little Love Song (Not a Swan in the US).  Those already au fait with Magorian’s works will know she has written a number of novels set within war time Britain and A Little Love Song follows in both Goodnight Mister Tom and Back Home’s footsteps in this regard.

To quote the blurb on the back cover:

“At seventeen, Rose is convinced no one will ever love her, living as she does in the shadow of her beautiful older sister, Diana.  If Diana is the swan, Rose is the ugly duckling.  But for both girls this is going to be an extraordinary summer.

It is 1943 and the war has left its mark even in the sleepy seaside town where the girls have been sent out of harm’s way.  For the first time in their lives they are free of adult restriction.

For both girls it is a summer of self-discovery, but especially for Rose who unearths a love story set in another war, a story that becomes more real when she falls in love herself…” 

A Little Love Song is one of my re-reads – the books I “revisit” every once in a while, to re-experience the pleasure of reading again.  It’s also perhaps my favourite Michelle Magorian work to date.  Whilst Magorian revisits familiar territory in terms of the setting for her narrative with the war time theme, there are a number of respects in which this novel differs from those which precede it.  Rose is noticeably older than either of the main protagonists to whom we have previously been introduced, William Beech or “Rusty” Virginia Dickinson in Good Night Mister Tom or Back Home respectively at seventeen.  Consequentially, the reader is introduced to altogether new emotional territory.  Nor is Magorian reticent to delve into these depths. 

Through Derry, the local bookshop owner’s teenage cousin, Rose takes her first faltering steps towards a relationship and we see this rebound as she is tricked into a sexual relationship and her emotions are played upon, with Derry referring on a number of occasions to the fact that he is go off to war from which he might not return.  Away from parental supervision, Rose also finds herself associating with an unmarried mother to be, Dot, who was unable to marry her boyfriend, Jack, due to her father’s having withheld his consent.

Balanced neatly with these aspects of the narrative arc, Rose discovers the events which preceded it within the village of Salmouth and particularly those affecting Lapwing Cottage, the residence both she and her sister, Diana are renting and which had previously belonged to the locally infamous “Mad Hilda”.  Having discovered “Mad” Hilda’s diary and a letter which appears to encourage the reader to review the diary’s contents, Rose begins to appreciate that matters are not always as simplistic as they may at first appear and, indeed, that “Mad” Hilda may not in fact have been mad at all…  A moment of self-realisation confirms that, ultimately, it is “Mad” Hilda’s diary which prevents her from disassociating herself from Dot and allowing their friendship to develop and another, equally important, relationship to grow.  Furthermore, “Mad” Hilda’s diary takes on even greater significance once Rose realises it holds more than just the secret of Hilda’s sanity and has particular significance for someone with whom she is acquainted in the present.

Rose begins the narrative as an inexperienced and relatively naïve teenager who has never had to fend for herself.  By its conclusion, she has taken on employment and action to involve herself actively in the war effort.  Furthermore, she has developed the confidence to begin to write and she is engaged in a genuine, adult relationship.  Ultimately, the mistakes she makes along the way make this journey all the more credible.  Not only that, but the self-sworn “ugly duckling” has become a more self-assured and “darling” goose to her love and we, the reader, are happy for her for it.  Ultimately, happy does not have to mean absolute perfection – it simply means becoming self-aware and comfortable within our own skin; a pretty positive message to end Rose’s journey with - and ours with her.       

Lesser Known, Lesser Spotted

On the subject of things that go bump in the night, this brings me to Robert Neill's “classic novel of witchcraft”, Mist Over Pendle, which has been a firm favourite of mine for a while now, despite being less well known than some of the more recent titles I’ve highlighted in previous blog entries.  (For US readers, this will be The Elegant Witch).

“When several local people die in mysterious circumstances, Squire Roger Nowell dismisses talk of witchcraft as superstition.  But soon a series of hideous desecrations take place, and there are unmistakable signs that a black coven is assembling to plot a campaign of evil and destruction.”

 

Such is the premise at the outset of Mist Over Pendle.  The reader travels with Roger Nowell’s niece Margary Whitaker from Holborn into the Forest of Pendle and shadow of Pendle Hill itself, bringing both into confrontation with the inhabitants of the Rough Lee and “dark elegance” of Alice Nutter.  Soon enough, Margery becomes aware that life in Pendle has definite “undercurrents” and that these are such that some of them run “muddily”.

 

The novel is an account of the Pendle Witches, a fascinating subject in itself and Neill provides vivid descriptions of his Demdike, Chattox and Squinting Lizzie to populate well-known local history.  We also see Jennet Device, the child informant responsible for the eventual apprehension of her own family who formed part of the recent BBC Four programme, The Pendle Witch Child, presented by Simon Armitage.

 

Pendle Hill, too, seems to feature as a distinct character in itself, filled with brooding emotion, as well as the calculated manoeuvres of “our Alice”.  For those familiar with the territory the novel explores within its seventeenth century context, the level of detail and close attention to it by the author is pleasing.  Neill displays a similar level of skill in the language utilised by his characters throughout the narrative, which, again, adds to the “feel” of the tale.  We also see signs of the troubled religious times within which the events of the narrative took place.

Add to this an intriguing story arc, almost in the guise of a detective style “who dunnit” (to which the reader is already privy to the details of, unlike the characters populating the narrative itself) and you have a rewarding reading prospect.

Ultimately, though, it is the characters who provide the definitive “hook” to reel you in in this instance.  Margery is sufficiently quick witted to prove more than a match for Alice Nutter in their on-going game of “cat and mouse”.  Roger, Margery’s distant magistrate cousin, who we grow to know rather better over the course of the narrative, is pragmatic, sardonic and wise by turns.  Neither feels forced nor clichéd in their depiction.  Their battle against the Lancastrian world of poisons, curses and familiars feels real and we get a genuine sense of the frustration displayed by Richard Baldwin, the “stout Puritan”, as they search for the proof of witchcraft necessary for a committal to Lancaster.

 

Nor does Neill leave us devoid of any romance beyond the intrigue surrounding Pendle coven.  In Margery and Frank and, equally, Grace and Miles, we see genuine developing relationships, the success of which we are invested in.  Not bad all told for an author concerning whom little is known.