Final book reviews for 2007

I have just three books left to review for 2007, with the clock ticking toward 2008 and, hopefully, a new year of great reads!

Perfume: The Story of A Murderer by Patrick Suskind is one of those books I'm glad I read (although it isn't one of my favorites from the past year) simply because it was unlike anything I've ever read before.

Set in 18th-century France, Suskind's dark fable explores the psyche of a man who possesses the world's most powerful and refined sense of smell. Throughout his life, Grenouille is obsessed with scents, longing to name them, to manipulate them, and finally to possess them.

The book moved slowly for me at first, but Suskind's evocative writing and his forays into the depths of Grenouille's black soul kept me turning pages to see how it all would end. Other characters, including Baldini the master perfumer and the amateur scientist Taillade-Espinasse, lent some sly humor to the story.

As Grenouille moved closer to the culmination of his obsession (and to the murders referred to in the title) I turned pages faster and read the last quarter of the book in one sitting. Everything fell into place for a horrifying, but completely appropriate ending. My grade: B+

I looked forward for much of the year to the re-release of Jean Plaidy's The Reluctant Queen, about Anne Neville, wife and queen to Richard III (published by Three Rivers Press in late August). Unfortunately, I found the novel a disappointment.

I hoped Plaidy's telling would better illuminate the life and character of Anne Neville, daughter to the powerful earl of Warwick, "The Kingmaker," who helped Edward IV to the throne before turning his coat and backing the Lancastrian heir, the son of Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou. Although the historical Anne had little control over her own fate, she lived in an especially intriguing and colorful age, during the English Wars of the Roses.

However, the Anne of Plaidy's novel was a curiously flat character who spent most of her time fretting about her future, or Richard of Gloucester's destiny, or both. It read a bit like a personal diary kept by a dull woman with no aptitude for writing beyond stating bare facts. Even her frequent declarations of love and devotion for Richard seemed rather muted and uninspiring.

I did appreciate one aspect of the novel. Plaidy did a fine job of making Richard's personality ambiguous toward the end, so I, as a reader, was never sure I could believe Anne's praise of him. Plaidy left the question open of whether Richard murdered his royal nephews, but skillfully suggested Anne might have a blind spot regarding Richard's ambition or his true personality. My grade: C-

Finally, I finished The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman so I could start the new year with a different (hopefully better) read.

When I reviewed The Subtle Knife, I was angry at Pullman for writing such a terrible follow up to The Golden Compass. Concluding the trilogy with The Amber Spyglass just made me sad. The author took what could have been a wonderful fantasy story and lost it in a muddle of plot holes, diatribes against Christianity and logic-defying scenes that occurred so often, it was laughable.

It's such a shame, particularly since The Amber Spyglass contained glimmers of the wonderful writing and strong characterizations that made the first book so appealing.

Will, at least, becomes a more multifaceted character. Lyra regains some of her former spark. Pullman's descriptions are often still beautiful, although his world building is much less effective because he jumps from plot point to plot point without giving anything adequate time to develop.

A few aspects of The Amber Spyglass intrigued me, such as Will and Lyra's journey to the land of the dead, or Mary Malone's discovery of the mulefa tribe. But with a tangle of loose ends left abandoned at the novel's end, these developments seemed rather pointless.

The Amber Spyglass was not as tedious a read as The Subtle Knife, but I stopped counting the plot holes about halfway through and abandoned hope that Pullman would adequately explain anything. (Some quick examples: We never understand quite how Lyra and Will can dominate the harpies in the land of the dead and convince them to abandon their bargain with The Authority. And it's never explained how Mary learned to communicate fairly complex ideas to the mulefa within a matter of days.)

Pullman's chief villain, Mrs. Coulter, inexplicably changed in the final book, sacrificing herself for Lyra's sake at the end. Where in the world did that change of heart come from? I don't buy that this cold, ruthless, power-hungry woman suddenly was overwhelmed by latent mother love.

I had no qualms whatsoever about encountering anti-Christian, anti-religious or anti-authoritarian themes. In fact, I hoped the trilogy would offer strong arguments for discussion. Instead, Pullman chose to rant about the supposed evils of organized religion without backing up his assertions. He made blanket statements such as "The Authority and his churches have always tried to keep (minds) closed." Maybe they have and maybe they haven't, but Pullman offered no examples either way. His "arguments" would not convince the average high-school debate class.

Again, the Church and the Authority seemed like nonentities to most people in Pullman's many worlds. Only Lord Asriel, Mrs. Coulter and the individuals fighting on either side of the war against the Kingdom of Heaven seemed to care about religion at all. Pullman never adequately explained why Lord Asriel wanted to destroy The Authority, or why Mrs. Coulter worked so tirelessly for the Church. (And how did she gain such power in an organization dominated by men?)

The Authority himself appears in only two scenes, with no rationale for why he supposedly strove to dominate people's minds and hearts and imprisoned them after death in a bleak, hopeless existence. Far from being a towering figure of evil, The Authority was portrayed as a decrepit, fragile, senile, harmless angel.

The Authority's second-in-command, Metatron, the prince of angels, a being described as having a towering intellect and centuries worth of knowledge, was done in by a pretty face and a lame seduction. And the eye rolling by no means ended there. After about a thousand pages in the trilogy, the fate of all the worlds rested on a pre-pubescent love affair that read like a teenage romance novel. (Oh brother.)

I'm longing to lose myself in another book to get the taste of these novels out of my mouth. The Amber Spyglass gets a D grade, and the entire trilogy gets an F for beginning with a great story, becoming hopelessly tedious in the middle book and concluding with an utter failure of imagination.

2007 manga reading roundup

My first forays into reading manga this year were a mixed bag. I haven't read anything yet that makes me say, "Wow, I love Japanese comics," the way Hayao Miyazaki's films made me love anime. The manga volumes I read this year were all short series, most of them by Clamp, an all-female writing/drawing team. My husband is addicted to several longer series I'm eager to try in 2008 that seem to have better fleshed-out characters and deeper themes. I also may have made the mistake of picking manga to read targeted more at children or younger teens.

Wish is the four-volume story of Shuichiro, a young doctor, and Kohaku, the sweet, naive angel who falls in love with him after he rescues her from a prank-playing demon. Kohaku gratefully offers to grant Shuichiro a single wish, but he insists he needs nothing she can give him. Unperturbed, she moves in with him, insisting she will wait for him to come up with a wish. The story explores the comic complications that occur when an angel takes up residence in the human world, and all sorts of demons and high angels stop by for tea. The story was sweet and uncomplicated, although a bit cutesy at times. My grade: B.

Speaking of cutesy, reading Man of Many Faces was like eating way too many Jelly Bellies at once. This sugary-sweet, two-volume manga chronicles the adventures of Akira, third-grader and master thief, and Utako, his kindergarten-aged girlfriend. Akira has two mothers (don't ask; the manga doesn't explain except to say they both lived with his father) and he constantly steals pretty objects the women insist they must have. Hearing adult romantic sentiments come out of the mouths of Akira and Utako was jarring and unbelievable, while the story was just too sappy for my tastes. My grade: C-

I'm having a hard time describing what I thought of Magic Knight Rayearth I and II. This series and its sequel, each three volumes long, tell the tale of three Japanese schoolgirls mysteriously pulled into the fantasy world of Cephiro, where they learn they are the legendary Magic Knights who must save the land.

The first series initially read like the plot for a video game, but it slowly deepened until it broadsided me with a completely unexpected, tragic ending. The darker themes continued in the sequel, when the Magic Knights, faced with a crumbling Cephiro, had to decide if the land was worth saving. The juxtaposition of cutesy humor with deep ethical dilemmas did not always work for me, although I respected what Clamp was trying to do in giving what initially seemed a cliched fantasy saga some thought-provoking twists. My grade: B-

I ventured away from Clamp to read the one-shot story, R.I.P. Requiem in Phonybrian, by Mitsukazu Mihara. In this manga, a suicidal undertaker and a bored angel team up to free the souls of the dead from the unfinished business trapping them on Earth. Unfortunately, the Victorian Gothic costumes of the characters were probably the most interesting thing about the book. Much of the artwork was gorgeous, but the plot was thin and the characters silly and annoying. The first few chapters seemed like a pale imitation of Neil Gaiman's graphic novels about Death. It got better in the last few chapters but couldn't redeem itself completely. My grade: D.

Mixed in with these manga volumes, I read a short graphic novel, Cicada by Jasue Menjivar. It tells the story of a man whose childlike, pathetic desire to be liked leads him into numerous extramarital affairs, and eventually to lonliness and isolation. Menjivar captured very subtle emotions in his art. The story wasn't too deep but worth a look, especially if you're a fan of alternative or "underground" comics. My grade: B-

Kathy Lynn Emerson's Face Down Elizabethan mystery series

I began reading Kathy Lynn Emerson's Face Down series in 2006 and finished two more of the books this past year. These enjoyable mysteries, set in the England of Queen Elizabeth I, feature Susanna, Lady Appleton, a sharp-eyed, tart-tongued sleuth with little patience for the restrictions her society places on women. Emerson has populated the novels with interesting people and filled them with details about what life was like in Elizabethan times, from the food served at meals, to herbal remedies, to the miseries of travel. While reading each novel, I enjoyed revisiting Susanna's England and catching up with my favorite characters.

Here's a quick recap of the books I've read so far:

1. Face Down in the Marrow-Bone Pie. Susanna and her husband, Robert Appleton, wage a classic battle of the sexes when she goes behind his back to investigate the death of his steward. This enrages Sir Robert, the typical Elizabethan misogynist with definite ideas about "a woman's place" (even toward his sovereign lady, Queen Elizabeth). Susanna always stays one step ahead of her husband, which irritates him to no end. My grade: A-
2. Face Down Upon An Herbal. Susanna Appleton investigates forgery, treason and murder in this somewhat convoluted mystery. It is one of the weaker novels in the series but still worth reading for its development of Catherine, Robert's half sister, who becomes a major character from this book forward. My grade: B-
3. Face Down Among The Winchester Geese. My favorite book in the series thus far, Winchester Geese was a riveting read with an explosive ending. Susanna hunts for a serial killer who murders one woman each year, while Robert pursues a scheme he hopes will give him everything he's ever desired ... but that could lead to his ruin. Lady Mary Grey, sister to the ill-fated Lady Jane, plays a major role in the story. My grade: A.
4. Face Down Beneath the Eleanor Cross. Robert is murdered, and suspicion immediately falls on Susanna, who must unmask the real killer before she is tried and executed. This page turner was nearly as enjoyable as Winchester Geese. My grade: A.
5. Face Down Under the Wych Elm. Susanna races against time to save two women unjustly accused of witchcraft, one of whom is a former mistress of Robert's. Emerson enlivens the story with a subplot about Susanna's new romance with the merchant, Nick Baldwin, another terrific series character. My grade: A-
6. Face Down Before Rebel Hooves. Susanna infiltrates a ring of Catholic conspirators who lead an uprising against the Protestant Queen Elizabeth. The book was another page turner; however, I was dismayed by the ugly behavior of two of my favorite characters, Nick Baldwin and Sir Walter Pendennis, rivals for Susanna's affections. My grade: B
7. Face Down Across the Western Sea. Susanna investigates murder among a group of scholars researching England's claim to the New World. The mystery itself was confusing and somewhat far-fetched, but several subplots revealed new depths to familiar characters. My grade: B-

After Western Sea, publication of the series shifted from St. Martin's Press (hardcovers) and Kensington Mystery (mass-market paperbacks) to Perseverance Press, which is bringing out new novels in beautiful trade paperbacks. The next three novels, along with a short-story collection, await me on Mount TBR.

For a list of the complete series, visit Emerson's Web site here.

The Subtle Knife by Philip Pullman

Shame on you, Philip Pullman.

With the second novel in your fantasy trilogy His Dark Materials, you have committed a multitude of sins against the reader.

You ensnared many in the complex, multifaceted alternate world of The Golden Compass. Like them, I fell in love with Lyra, was intrigued by her quest to discover the nature of Dust and looked forward to joining her and Pantalaimon for the rest of their journey.

Then, with The Subtle Knife, you led me into a morass of sloppy writing, wooden characters, a directionless plot and illogical situations.

First, you gutted Lyra. What happened to this brave, resourceful and charismatic girl who was such an immensely appealing character?

Why, she abandoned her own quest to help a new hero, Will Parry, find his missing father. (Wow, what an original plotline!) Lyra becomes a mere shadow of her former self: quiet, uncomplaining, colorless and very much relegated to the background.

One of the joys of The Golden Compass was the relationship between Lyra and Pan, her daemon companion. He fades along with Lyra, only occasionally speaking or changing shape just to remind the reader he's still around.

This may not have been so infuriating if you, Philip Pullman, had given us a hero as complex as Lyra. Alas, Will Parry is a stoic, apathetic bore with an unappealing violent streak.

Toward the end of the book, Will suddenly declares Lyra is the best friend he's ever had. Gee, you could have fooled me. For most of the story, he seems alternately indifferent to or annoyed by her.

You abandoned the sense of wonder and adventure that propelled me through The Golden Compass. Instead, I got a meandering, confusing plot that did not so much reach a climax as just abruptly stop, without resolving anything.

Not a single character was interesting or believable, and the novel was a chore to read.

On top of all this, you were inexcusably sloppy. I came across so many blatant contradictions and unbelievable scenes, it was laughable. To mention just some:

1. The Subtle Knife introduces Specters, who consume the life force of adults and leave them as indifferent, soulless zombies. Early in the book, a minor character mentions he took refuge from a band of Specters by hiding in a hut. This led me to assume Specters could not enter buildings. However, the philosopher who gives Will the subtle knife later says he will kill himself when Will departs, because the Specters can enter his tower when they are no longer kept at bay by the magical weapon.

2. A young man who wants the subtle knife walks through a city infested by Specters to safely arrive at the tower. After Will and Lyra drive him off, he is consumed by Specters the moment he steps outside again.

3. The villainous Mrs. Coulter reveals toward the end of the book she can see through a witch's spell that causes them to be invisible to others. Yet in an earlier scene, she does not apprehend a witch spying on her while invisible, when doing so might have helped her discover Lyra's true nature.

4. Sir Charles, who steals Lyra's alethiometer, knows of several portals that lead from Will's world to other worlds. Why then does he not notice the disturbance in the air from the portal Will opens in his very own study?

5. Will is seriously wounded about midway through the book and spends the rest of the story bleeding profusely. He fights off a gang of murderous children, travels a great distance and climbs a mountain without passing out or going into shock.

At the end of The Subtle Knife, you, the author, finally reveal the protagonists' plan to wage all-out war against the Authority, or the Creator, or God, or whatever you want to call him. I couldn't see much of a reason why they should. In my comments on The Golden Compass, I mentioned it bothered me that the Magisterium, the book's chief villain, was such a nonentity, playing only a minor role in the story. The Subtle Knife didn't tell me any more about this Church that is supposed to be making everyone miserable. Most characters seemed to live their lives untouched by its influence.

Yes, you had some villains, but I still don't know why they are so nasty and evil or why they are committed to the Magisterium. Sauron, reduced to a giant disembodied eye by the beginning of The Lord of the Rings, had more personality than your evil characters.

I honestly don't understand why so many people praised The Subtle Knife, or looked forward with any pleasure to concluding the trilogy with The Amber Spyglass. I plan to read it only because I'd like to know what all the fuss is about, and I'm curious to see if you can extricate yourself from the giant mess you left behind with The Subtle Knife.

My grade: F.

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman

The upcoming release of The Golden Compass movie has prompted criticism from some Christian groups, with Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy labeled as "Narnia for atheists," and the author's motive said to be to "kill God in the minds of children." (For more on the debate, visit Idol Chatter, the religion and pop culture blog at BeliefNet.)

I had heard before about the religious controversy swirling around the trilogy, and with the movie about to debut, I decided to finally read the books.

I really enjoyed The Golden Compass, the first book in the trilogy. Others have said they found the book tedious, especially in the first half, but the novel captured my interest and held it from the opening pages.

Lyra, the novel's 12-year-old protagonist, is a resourceful, mischievous and confident girl who has grown up largely unsupervised at Oxford's Jordan College. Lyra's world mirrors our own but is quite different in many ways. In her world, every person has a daemon, a sort of familiar spirit who takes the shape of an animal and mirrors the person's soul and personality. Not only were daemons a fascinating concept, they proved a very effective storytelling device, as Pullman could reveal a character's thoughts and reactions through the actions of their daemon.

The novel's atmosphere, familiar in some ways but strange in others, hooked me at once. It evoked the feel of Victorian England with a few modern touches. The story, which combined fantasy and science fiction elements, was complex, multilayered and beautifully written.

The story begins with Lyra overhearing a scholarly discussion about Dust, a mysterious, microscopic particle found only in the frozen North that clusters around adolescents and adults. As Lyra eavesdrops, the scholars also talk about a mysterious city that can be glimpsed when the Northern Lights illuminate the sky, a city that appears to exist in a parallel world.

Lyra longs to visit the North to see these things, and she gets her chance when children from Oxford are kidnapped by the sinister Gobblers. Lyra joins a gang of gyptians (riverboat people) to rescue the children from the Northern outpost of Bolvangar, where the Gobblers are conducting horrific experiments on the children and their daemons.

During her journey, Lyra meets witches who fly on cloud-pine branches, warlike armored polar bears and a Texas balloonist before she discovers something of the nature of Dust and sees the city in the Northern Lights for herself.

Pullman's story was both imaginative and quite dark, especially during the book's second half. It seemed targeted more at teens and adults than children. Lyra experiences some horrible things and has her faith in adults shaken to the core. Her unshakable bond with her daemon, Pantalaimon, and their unconditional love for one another, made the dangers they faced more harrowing and their escapes poignant and emotionally stirring. I really cared about Lyra and Pan and felt their wonder and their fear along with them

I had just a few quibbles with the novel. First, I had a hard time accepting the role Lyra's alethiometer (the "golden compass" of the title) played in the story. Lyra could use the device to find the answer to any question, which made her quest too easy at times, in my opinion. It also killed suspense knowing Lyra could solve most any problem she encountered using the alethiometer.

Second, Pullman hinted throughout the book at the absolute power the Church and its Magisterium had over Lyra's world. But the Church played nearly no role in Lyra's life or in the lives of other major characters. Except for Mrs. Coulter (who obviously used the Church as a means to power) characters were neither fervent believers or opposed to Church doctrine. The Church itself played only a minor role in the story until the very end, when Pullman suddenly tossed some deep metaphysical and theological concepts at the reader (including quoting a well-known passage from the Book of Genesis, which seemed out of place). The Church would have been a much more sinister villain if Pullman had portrayed its oppression from the beginning of the story, or had Lyra or other characters believe in Church teachings only to have their faith sorely tested.

That said, however, I did enjoy the book, although I don't see it as the next Lord of the Rings. I am looking forward to reading the rest of the trilogy. My grade: A-

The Kitchen Boy: A Novel of the Last Tsar by Robert Alexander

I read The Kitchen Boy in June and have struggled since then to write a review of it for PaperBackSwap. I'm still not sure how I felt about the ending, or whether I believe the author played fair with the reader. I will try as much as possible to keep my comments spoiler-free, but since my objections have to do with "the big twist," it may be impossible for me not to let something slip that could suggest how the novel ends. If you have not yet read the book, you may want to skip the rest of this post.

The Kitchen Boy tells the story of the last living witness to the events of July 16, 1918, at the "House of Special Purpose," when the Bolsheviks murdered the last Russian tsar and his family. Now an old man, Misha reveals his secrets in a tape recording meant for his granddaughter, describing the relationships he forged with the royal family and what he saw during the terrible night they were massacred.

I enjoyed how author Robert Alexander developed the character of the kitchen boy - a devoted family servant with an observant nature and a deep compassion for this family, who had lost everything but each other. Through Misha's eyes, I got to know the tsar, tsarina, their four daughters and their son. Alexander portrayed them as a brave, close-knit, loving family. Nicholas may have been a terrible tsar, but he was quite obviously a caring father. Throughout the book, Misha's bond with the family deepens as he delivers letters, smuggled into the house in milk bottles, that make them all hope for rescue.

Misha then describes how the family was executed and what happened to their corpses, providing an explanation for why the bodies of Grand Duchess Marie and Tsarevich Alexis were not found in a mass grave with those of the rest of the family. (This past August, members of a Russian history group found two partial skeletons near the mass grave that could be the remains of the missing children.)

But Misha only tells part of the truth. After his death, his granddaughter travels to Russia ... and the big twist occurs. It was well-written and so cleverly handled I didn't see it coming, but it left me with a vague feeling of disappointment. I had come to like Misha and the royal family as he described them, but the ending put everything Misha said in doubt. Also, some key elements of the story that had intrigued me turned out to be complete fabrications. I also thought Alexander pushed the ending's believability a bit too far.

Without that ending, I would have given this book an A-. Alexander truly captured the Russian soul, especially in the psychic torment felt by Misha all his life. Because of my ambivalence about the ending, I am dropping the novel's grade to a B-. I still think the book is worth reading, especially for Romanov buffs, and I eventually plan to read Alexander's second novel, about Rasputin.

Splendid Slippers: A Thousand Years of an Erotic Tradition

Early in Lisa See's novel, Peony in Love, Peony and her mother assist in binding the feet of a young girl whose mother is too soft-hearted to do the job properly. The scene made me squirm, but what I remember most about it is a stirring speech made by Peony's mother about the importance of footbinding as she mercilessly manipulates the child's broken bones.

She reminds the women in the room they are Han women: proud, refined and altogether superior creatures to the big-footed ruling Manchus. Footbinding is essential, she says, for a woman to be thought respectable, to marry well and to have a good life, and the Manchus cannot make them stop binding their feet

This depiction of fierce cultural pride in footbinding stayed with me after I'd finished the novel. I realized Chinese people once viewed this practice much differently than Westerners do, and I wanted to know more.

Beverley Jackson's book, Splendid Slippers, served as a wonderful introduction to the subject. Jackson makes a real effort to understand footbinding from the perspective of the Chinese. She does not flinch from the horrified reactions it inspires in Westerners, but she also probes the Chinese psyche to reveal how the practice became so essential and desirable.

For a thousand years, Chinese mothers bound their daughters' feet, molding them into unnatural shapes and forcing the bones to break in pursuit of the ideal, three-inch "Golden Lotus." The mothers and daughters then spent hours sewing exquisite, embroidered shoes to cover their crippled feet, creating an erotic mystique men found captivating.

Splendid Slippers contains numerous photographs of these "lotus shoes." The care and attention to detail women put into these tiny works of art were nothing short of amazing.

For the Han Chinese, a woman's bound feet represented security. Desirability. Refinement. Sex appeal. Bound feet played important roles in marriage, prostitution, the theater, the arts and literature. Husbands used their wives' feet to achieve pleasure in the bedroom. Succumbing at least partially to the allure, Manchu women, while they did not bind, wore platform shoes designed to give the illusion of tiny feet.

Some of the elderly Chinese women Jackson met, who tottered on their tiny, misshapen feet, wept when the author showed them pictures of lotus shoes. Jackson portrayed footbinding as a complicated cultural practice, both horrifying and strangely beautiful.

For those who aren't squeamish, this Web site features photographs of an old woman's ideal lotus feet, similar to pictures in Jackson's book.

In Splendid Slippers, Jackson described a meeting Tzu Hsi, the last empress of China, had with a group of European diplomats. The Westerners criticized her for not doing more to end footbinding among her Han subjects, and the Manchu empress responded, Why do you cage your women in corsets, constricting their lungs so they cannot breathe?

This anecdote made me wonder, are the fad diets, plastic surgery and other fashions modern women embrace so much more civilized than footbinding?

My grade for Splendid Slippers: A.

Lust and love in historical fiction

The title Royal Harlot should have tipped me off.

I picked up Susan Holloway Scott's novel about Barbara Villiers Palmer, notorious mistress of England's Charles II, expecting a certain amount of titillation, but also hoping for an enlightening glimpse into merry Restoration London.

I got smut.

I have no problem with a bit of smut. A well-placed sex scene can liven up any story filled with treaties, treason, war, politics and beheadings. After all, where would Henry VIII be without the beguiling Anne Boleyn or that tart, Katherine Howard?

But a third of the way into Royal Harlot, I already felt bludgeoned by the sex scenes. Reading this novel was a bit like watching Showgirls.

Heaving bosoms and throbbing manhoods do not a plot make. Therefore, I finished the book totally unenlightened about Charles' Dutch wars or his divisive religious policies. Scott spent just a few pages on the Great Plague and Great Fire of London. (I learned more by quickly skimming Wikipedia entries than I did from this book.)

But I did discover Charles II and Barbara Villiers liked sex. A lot. My grade: D

Thankfully, another of my recent reads, Loving Will Shakespeare, brought the past vividly to life while offering a convincing love story. Carolyn Meyer's novel focuses on Anne (Agnes) Hathaway, who became Shakespeare's wife.

Historians know little about Anne, other than Shakespeare bequeathing her the "second-best bed" in his will, and that she was eight years older than her husband. Meyer's Anne is a lonely girl growing up in an unhappy home, who despairs of ever finding someone to love her. She is drawn to Will by his charm, creativity and zest for life and as he becomes a young man, finds herself unexpectedly falling in love with him. Their romance will be bittersweet, as Shakespeare will spend most of his time in London, wedded more to the theater than to his wife.

The novel included many wonderful scenes of rural village life in Elizabethan England, including holiday customs, marriage traditions and the excitement generated by the queen's annual progress. My grade: A-

Morgan Llywelyn's Strongbow: The Story of Richard and Aoife, another novel centering on a love story, left me wanting to know much more about its protagonists. It was an absorbing, touching read, but too short. My grade: B-

Richard de Clare (Strongbow) was a Norman knight denied his lands and titles, who fought on behalf of Aoife's father, the deposed king of Leinster in Ireland. I discovered through a Google search that Richard and Aoife were the parents of Isabel de Clare, who married William Marshal, one of medieval England's greatest knights and statesmen. Does anyone know of any other books focusing on Strongbow or Aoife?

The final book in this love-themed reading roundup is the best book I've read this year so far: Peony in Love by Lisa See. A ghost story, a historical fantasy, a family saga and a coming-of-age tale, the novel immersed me in the unfamiliar world of 17th-century China and captivated me with its beautifully told story.

The novel is set during a time of political and social upheaval in China, when thousands of women left their cloistered existences to pursue intellectual lives, writing and publishing their own work, before society forced them back into their family compounds. A woman's right to express herself is a major theme of the novel.

Peony is a 15-year-old aristocratic girl obsessed with the controversial opera, The Peony Pavilion. During a performance of the opera staged in her family's compound, she secretly meets and falls in love with a poet, Wu Ren. Locked in her room for her transgressions and to await her arranged marriage, Peony becomes so absorbed in writing her thoughts about the opera, she forgets to eat, and dies just before her scheduled wedding.

From there, the novel explores intricate Chinese beliefs about the afterlife as Peony roams the world as a hungry ghost, visiting Wu Ren and influencing his subsequent wives to continue writing about the opera. Peony's story mirrors The Peony Pavilion but also deviates from the opera in unexpected ways. She learns surprising, heartbreaking truths about the women in her own family, and ultimately finds a way to be remembered and honored as an individual.

Peony in Love was a hypnotic, strange fairy tale that required some suspension of disbelief to be enjoyed. I willingly followed the story where it led me, sometimes slowing my reading to savor the beautiful writing, sometimes speeding up in my impatience to discover what would come next. My grade: A+

The last queen of France

I have not yet made time to watch Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette. But early this summer, I finished three books in a row about the much-maligned queen and her family.

Marie Antoinette: Princess of Versailles by Kathryn Lasky is part of the Royal Diaries series for young readers. The novel provided a good introduction to the tragic queen's life.

Maria Antonia's diary begins just before she must journey from Vienna to marry France's dauphin. She leaves everything Austrian behind -- her clothes, jewels, even her name -- only to find her dream prince is an awkward, unattractive youth. Then she must navigate the rigid, often ridiculous etiquette of the court of Versailles.

Kathryn Lasky presents a credible portrait of Marie Antoinette as a girl struggling to hold onto her own, unique identity in a world of royal duty. I only wished the book had shown more of Antoinette's inner feelings as she left her native Austria forever to become a French princess. I am always fascinated by what princesses went through in leaving their homes and countries forever to marry strangers in foreign lands.

My grade: B

Flaunting, Extravagant Queen is the kind of book that makes me wish history could be changed. Jean Plaidy made me care about the doomed Marie Antoinette and her family. Their story is truly stranger than fiction, and Plaidy wrung every ounce of drama from it, leaving me breathlessly turning pages even though I knew Antoinette would end up sans tete.

Plaidy portrayed the last queen of France as a multifaceted, very human woman: good-hearted, fun-loving, dignified and courageous, yet temperamentally incapable of submitting to the rigid etiquette of Versailles. She also brought to life the glittering French court, the disaffected people of Paris and the terrifying days of bloody revolution. While reading the novel, I felt like an eyewitness to the events of Antoinette's life, right up to her last ride to the guillotine. My grade: A

Plaidy, who also wrote as Victoria Holt, Philippa Carr and others, was luckily quite prolific, and I have many other books of hers waiting on Mount TBR. Incredibly, her books span 835 years of English and European history, from the Norman conquest of 1066 to the death of Queen Victoria in 1901.

The Lost King of France by Deborah Cadbury was the best of these three books, although it was horrifying and heartbreaking to read. It focused on Louis-Charles, second son of Marie Antoinette who became heir to the French throne when his older brother died. Within 5 years, he had lost his parents and became the focus of a nation's hatred and abuse. In 1795, revolutionary leaders declared the boy was dead.

Or was he? Rumors sprang up persistently he had escaped, and in later years, several pretenders claimed to be the rightful kings of France.

Cadbury vividly describes the monarchical missteps that led to the French revolution, the royal family's tense days of captivity, the execution of king and queen and the nearly unbearable sufferings of the son they left behind. She ably guides the reader through the years following the dauphin's supposed death, portraying the various pretenders and the many historians and scientists who struggled to solve the mystery. Finally, she presents the results of recent DNA testing on a shriveled heart, believed to have come from the dauphin's body.

I recommend this riveting book to all history buffs. It inspired me to seek out more information on the French Revolution and the royal family -- more for the TBR pile!

My grade: A+

The Six Wives of Henry VIII and Innocent Traitor by Alison Weir

Early this year, I re-read one of my favorite all-time books, Alison Weir's The Six Wives of Henry VIII. I credit this book, along with Margaret George's brilliant novel, The Autobiography of Henry VIII, with turning me into a full-blown Tudor maniac, and by extension, sparking my interest in the history of the English monarchy.

I took a course on the history of England in college and found it dry and disappointing. It took Alison Weir and Margaret George to truly bring these historical figures to life for me.

Henry VIII had a larger-than-life personality, and his six wives were fascinating people in their own right. Alison Weir lets the reader get to know each of them. Who knew Anne of Cleves, who had the shortest marriage, would end up the luckiest of the wives? Or that Katherine Parr nearly went to the block, like two queens before her?

Besides telling the stories of royalty, Weir's book is chock-full of fascinating tidbits on what life was like in those times.

The book is easy to read yet backed up thoroughly by research and scholarship -- a perfect book for someone who finds history dull and unreadable. Through the engaging biographies of the six wives, Weir illuminates the history of Henry himself and the tumultuous times in which he lived. My grade: A+

In March, I read Weir's captivating first novel, Innocent Traitor, about the Lady Jane Grey, great-niece to Henry VIII and the ill-fated nine days' queen of England.

When Henry VIII's teenage son, Edward VI, lay on his deathbed, nobles who feared the accession of Henry's Catholic daughter, Mary, schemed to put Jane, a Protestant, on the throne in Mary's place. However, after Edward's death, the English populace rallied to Mary's banner, and the plot's instigators were imprisoned. Mary later had Jane, just 16, executed to prevent other plots, although she knew Jane had simply been the pawn of powerful men.

Weir chose to use multiple narrators in Innocent Traitor, which I enjoyed immensely as I learned more about each character through their unique voices. Weir's portrait of Jane Grey was of a brilliant, courageous, outspoken, exasperating, dogmatic and determined young woman, who in a different time might have grown up to become a great scholar or religious leader. Jane's mother, Frances, was portrayed as an intensely pragmatic but ambitious woman who little understood her own daughter, but who in the end discovered her fierce love for her. The Lady Mary, later queen, was essentially kind-hearted and practical, yet fanatical in her devotion to Catholicism and determined to fight for her birthright.

Weir deftly wove historical events and her character's recorded words into her narrative, telling an enthralling, tragic story that had me glued to the book for hours. I expect this novel will be one of my favorite reads of 2007. Grade: A.

I am more than a bit peeved that Weir's latest biography, about Katherine Swynford, mistress to John of Gaunt and ancestor of the Tudors, will not be released in the U.S. until 2009. I believe I will put the U.K. edition of the book on my Christmas wish list.