Cleopatra's Daughter by Michelle Moran

Michelle Moran's newest historical novel, Cleopatra's Daughter, was one of those rare books that completely swept me out of my 21st-century life into another place and time. Reading it was like hopping into a time machine for a guided tour of Octavian's Rome. The teeming, dynamic city was so vividly and realistically portrayed, I felt as though I were walking the streets with the characters.

Because Moran was so good at immersing me in ancient Rome, I am finding this a difficult novel to review. After I put it down and thought back over the story, more and more aspects of it bothered me. The book has some flaws. I didn't mind them so much when lost in Moran's Rome but couldn't help thinking about them after finishing the novel.

Cleopatra's Daughter follows the children of Cleopatra and Marc Antony across the Mediterranean after Caesar Octavian (later known as Augustus) defeats their parents and adds Egypt to his sprawling empire. Much of the story concerns Selene and her twin brother, Alexander, coming of age and learning to survive in a culture very different from their own. Rome is portrayed through the eyes of Selene, the narrator, as a chaotic, debauched, often frightening place, yet vibrant and swelling with confidence and pride in its own accomplishments.

Although the twins are taken into the household of Octavia, Caesar's sister, and treated as guests, they remain painfully aware they live only at Octavian's whim, and he will destroy them without a thought if he perceives them as threats to Rome. The figure of Octavian -- brooding, superstitious, possessing more brains than brawn -- loomed over the entire novel, not only as the person who ultimately controlled Selene and Alexander's fates, but as the one man who, with political acumen and ruthlessness, might be able to hold the Roman empire together.

Yet Selene and her brother experience kindness and friendship from some of the members of Octavian's large, extended family, including Octavia's son, Marcellus, and Octavian's daughter, Julia, who are close to the twins in age. With Marcellus and Julia, the twins attend school, go shopping, watch chariot races and enjoy the summer holidays at Octavian's villa on Capri. Vitruvius, Octavian's architect, even teaches Selene how to design buildings after seeing her impressive sketches of Alexandria, her native city.

Because she lost her own home and parents, Selene sympathizes with the plight of the downtrodden, especially the slaves brought from conquered countries who make up one-third of Rome's population. She eagerly follows news of the Red Eagle, an unknown rebel who posts anti-slavery messages on the doors of temples and shops. When the messages stir unrest, suspicion falls on members of Octavian's inner circle, as it is obvious from the notices the Red Eagle is an educated person with access to the richest areas of the city.

Moran's Rome was not sugar-coated; she unflinchingly depicted the sufferings of slaves and the poor and the cruelties of the gladiatorial games enjoyed by ordinary Romans as entertainment. Life in Rome certainly typified the phrase "nasty, brutish and short." In fact, I felt a bit beaten about the head by all the ugly, unsavory aspects of everyday life. Moran could have toned it down a bit and still gotten her point across.

Other issues I had with the novel concerned Selene's love life. I grew impatient with her teenage mooning after Marcellus (who she knew from the start was promised in marriage to Julia). Selene seemed too mature and intelligent a character to fall for a man with so little in common with her. (Marcellus's all-consuming interest was betting on chariot races.) Selene finally realized which man truly deserved her love and loyalty, but the development of their relationship was rushed and not entirely convincing. The story lost a lot of steam two-thirds of the way through. Moran could have spent more time in the last 100 pages on Selene's discovering who really captured her heart, rather than having her feeling sorry for herself because of Marcellus's wedding.

I also had problems with the resolution to the mystery of the Red Eagle's identity. The rebel turned out to be a person I had a hard time believing would put Caesar or his family at risk. (The Red Eagle's messages provoked violence and even an assassination attempt.)

I loved Moran's depiction of ancient Rome, its culture and its people so much, I was willing to forgive these flaws while I was reading. She must have done a staggering amount of research, but I never felt pulled out of the story by an author showing off her knowledge of the period. The first half of the book was nearly perfect, but the second half needed tightening and a more focused plot. Despite this novel's flaws, Moran is definitely a writer to watch, and I'll be sure to read her other books.

My grade: B-

The Third George by Jean Plaidy

The Third George was a return to form for Jean Plaidy (following the disappointing The Prince and the Quakeress in her Georgian Saga). The novel focuses on the reign of the king best known for losing the American colonies and for his eventual madness. Plaidy's George III was a somewhat pathetic figure -- a king with the best of intentions but not politically astute enough to rule particularly well.

The novel begins with George placing his royal duty above the dictates of his heart, as he decides to make a state marriage with a plain German princess. After the wedding festivities and a somewhat comical coronation (marred by bad planning), George gets down to the business of ruling, with his longtime advisor, Lord Bute, at his elbow.

The ambitious Lord Bute, craving more power, convinces George's ministers to stand against the brilliant, popular William Pitt, which prompts Pitt to resign from the government. George's subjects grumble against Bute, especially when he proves inept at governing. The common people recognize George has allowed himself to become the puppet of Bute and of his domineering mother, the Princess Dowager (who has long been Bute's lover). They derisively call the pair Jackboot and Petticoat and make it dangerous for either of them to venture into London.

Bute eventually admits his ambitions have outstripped his political abilities, and when he steps down, George brings Pitt back into the government. But the once-great statesman has grown old and ill, and he, George and the other ministers make a long series of disastrous decisions. Continually mocked in broadsheets of the day, George only finds happiness by retiring to the country to play at being a gentleman farmer and to spend time with his growing brood of children. A strict moralist, the king is continually beset by scandals involving his siblings and, later, his eldest sons. His mental health deteriorates as his anxieties increase.

Throughout the story, I most sympathized with George's queen, Charlotte, one of the book's best drawn characters. (The portrait to the right was said to be an excellent likeness.) She is hand-picked by Jackboot and Petticoat to be a meek wife who will not challenge their power. The day she arrives in London, she is told she will marry George, whom she has only just met, that very night! A short, thin woman, she has to be pinned into her wedding dress.

The Princess Dowager continually meddles in the queen's household, deciding for her on matters as petty as whether Charlotte will wear jewels to church or what attendants will serve her. (Talk about a mother-in-law from hell!) As the queen learns English, she becomes more interested in state affairs and encourages George to confide in her. George shuts her out, as he is determined no woman will rule him as George II was ruled by his queen. (He seems to forget this when it comes to his mother, however.) Charlotte grows increasingly frustrated as she is left with nothing to do but to bear child after child. (The couple eventually had 15!)

The novel dragged somewhat in the middle, and the last several chapters were a hurried, workmanlike account of several important events, as though Plaidy were impatient to get to the end. The American Revolution, unfortunately, was one of the subjects given cursory treatment; I would have liked to read more about British reactions to it. Plaidy also touched very briefly on a couple of the scandals involving the Prince of Wales; the next few books in the series focus more on him and his love affairs.

Plaidy ended the book with one of George's episodes of madness, which was both terrifyingly and touchingly portrayed. I am looking forward to the series finally arriving at the Regency years. My grade for The Third George: C+

The Prince and the Quakeress by Jean Plaidy

Whew! I have finally finished The Prince and the Quakeress by Jean Plaidy, the fourth book in her Georgian Saga. What a slog! I struggled with it for weeks. It didn't hold my attention for more than a chapter or two at a time. All of Plaidy's strengths -- easy-to-read prose, brisk pacing, and a knack for helping readers understand her characters -- seemed to desert her in this novel. At the same time, her weaknesses -- repetitive scenes, cursory treatment of important events and "tell-not-show" writing -- were very much in evidence.

The Prince and the Quakeress covers the life of George III as Prince of Wales and focuses mainly on his alleged first love affair with Hannah Lightfoot, a Quaker woman and niece of a linen draper. Historians disagree on whether the two ever were involved and whether George might have secretly married her or had children by her.

At 12, George becomes Prince of Wales, when his father Frederick dies soon after being struck in the head by a tennis ball. His mother, the Dowager Princess Augusta, takes a lover, Lord Bute, and together the two scheme to keep the future king dependent on them. At first their task is not difficult, as George is docile, easily manipulated and none too bright. But the young prince soon shows his stubbornness when it comes to matters of the heart.

He arranges to secretly meet Hannah Lightfoot after seeing her several times sitting in the window of her uncle's shop. When her family discovers their clandestine affair, they quickly marry her off to a grocer. However, George arranges to have her spirited from her family's home the day of the wedding to a grand townhouse, where the two continue their affair for years.

And ... that's really all there is to the story. Hannah is kept a virtual prisoner in the townhouse, afraid if she ever ventures out, her family will find her. Plaidy never fleshed out Hannah's character, and I never understood why she would give up her freedom for George, or even why she loved him, as she was quite a few years older than he.
Most of the book's scenes from this point on concerned one of the following events:

• George and Hannah proclaim their undying love for one another while experiencing crippling guilt over their adulterous union.
• Lord Bute and the Princess Augusta bemoan George's devotion to Hannah and scheme about how to bring him back under their control.
• The king, George II, becomes angry with a family member or one of his ministers and gives a speech on the perfection of his late, lamented queen.

Plaidy barely mentioned William Pitt, the Great Commoner, who at this time was setting England on its course toward becoming a world power.

Finally, Lord Bute brings an end to George's affair with Hannah, determined the Prince will wed a German princess who cannot speak English and who would be unable to wrest control of George from himself and Princess Augusta. After George II obliges his family by finally succumbing to a stroke, young George briefly asserts he will marry Sarah Lennox, a vibrant, frivolous girl he has become infatuated with. But Lord Bute soon brings him to heel.

I really think Plaidy could have handled Hannah Lightfoot's story in a few chapters of a longer novel on George III, rather than basing nearly an entire book on it. Although The Prince and the Quakeress is my least favorite novel so far in the Georgian Saga, Plaidy did succeed in making me sympathize with young George. He really had no chance with all the wolves of court ringed around him. Essentially an honest, simple, loyal young man, he implicitly trusted those trying to manipulate him. He might have been much happier as a gentleman farmer, devoted to his wife and children, than as a prince and king.

My grade: D

Arabella by Georgette Heyer

It’s official: I love Georgette Heyer. I just finished another of her Regency romances, Arabella, and was once again enchanted by her lovingly drawn characters, witty and entertaining plots, brilliant dialogue and painstaking depictions of Regency life. I even enjoyed getting on the computer every couple of chapters to look up Heyer's many colorful, often baffling, Regency expressions (although I grumbled good-naturedly to my husband about it.)

Heyer’s Cinderella story concerns the London debut of Arabella, the beautiful daughter of a Yorkshire vicar of modest means. Arabella’s titled godmother has agreed to sponsor her during the Season, and if Arabella can attract a proposal from a well-to-do bachelor, she might be able to give her seven siblings a more comfortable start in life. I could not help loving Arabella from the very first chapter. She was just so ADORABLE, with her naivety, lack of town polish and habit of getting herself into scrapes whenever her anger was aroused.

Arabella’s carriage breaks down en route to London outside of a hunting lodge belonging to Mr. Beaumaris, the “Nonpareil,” as he is known in society circles. Mr. Beaumaris is the man everyone in London imitates (he starts a dandelion craze when he wears one in his buttonhole for three days straight.) He is THE arbiter of fashion and good taste, able to launch a debutante into a brilliant Season simply by smiling at her, or to make her a wallflower if he turns his back. He is also fabulously wealthy, quite jaded and very, very bored.

When Arabella overhears Mr. Beaumaris speculating she is another scheming girl after him for his wealth, she invents a wild story (with the help of too many glasses of champagne) that she is herself a great heiress and thus uninterested in his fortune. When she arrives in London, she finds to her dismay the story has spread, and she must fight off fortune-hunting suitors of her own. Simultaneously, Mr. Beaumaris decides to amuse himself by paying a great deal of attention to Arabella, thus making her the toast of the town.

But as he gets to know this innocent, charming girl from the country, Mr. Beaumaris is surprised to find himself falling for Arabella. He is utterly enchanted by her refreshing honesty, her strong character and her determination to do what she knows is right, no matter what society might think. Before long, he is going to any lengths to win her esteem: for example, taking in and finding a trade for an ill-favored chimney sweep’s apprentice whom Arabella rescues from an abusive master. (Her incandescent rage when she confronts the cruel sweep and frightens him into giving up the boy is a joy to behold.)

One of the great delights of this novel was experiencing Mr. Beaumaris’s transformation from a complete cynic into a man in love, traced humorously through monologues directed at his dog, Ulysses (another charity case Arabella foists on him). The scenes between the dignified Mr. Beaumaris and the scruffy mutt were some of the best in the novel.

Arabella, meanwhile, develops her own feelings for Mr. Beaumaris, enjoying his company much more than that of any of her tiresomely persistent suitors. But how can his attention to her be any more to him than a diverting game? And how can she ever confess to him she is not rich at all? Arabella’s brother Bertram becomes the means toward solving her problems when he visits London with well-heeled friends and spends as if he too were affluent, and Arabella must devise a scheme to keep him out of debtor’s prison.

Arabella was a very satisfying read that made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. I wish Heyer had written a sequel, as I would love to see other adventures befall these delightful characters. I can’t think of any higher praise I could give to a novel. My grade: A+.

As a postscript, I just have to share some of the Regency phrases I learned from reading this novel:

To enact a Cheltenham tragedy: To make a big deal out of nothing

Coxcomb: A vain, conceited person or a fool

To gammon: To deceive someone with nonsense or humbug

Gudgeon: A person who is easily deceived or imposed upon

On dit: Gossip

Laced mutton: A woman of easy virtue

Punting on the River Tick, swallowing a spider, getting into Queer Street: To be in debt.

Regency slang is almost as much fun to learn as Shakespearean slang!

Caroline, the Queen by Jean Plaidy

Caroline, the Queen, the third book in Jean Plaidy's Georgian Saga, opens with the death of George I, Caroline of Ansbach's tyrannical father-in-law. Finally, Caroline takes the helm of the ship of state. For years, she has honed her ability to manipulate her husband, George II, a conceited, hot-tempered, selfish little man. With the help of the astute politician Sir Robert Walpole, Caroline sets England on the course of peace and prosperity.

However, her life remains far from easy. She must constantly coddle her insecure husband and make him believe that he, not she, is the true ruler of England. Her health begins to fail as she grows older, which she must hide from George, who cannot abide his wife showing signs of illness. And she must always contend with her and Walpole's enemies at court.

Unfortunately, Caroline is not nearly as successful a mother as she is at ruling. She is estranged from her oldest son, Frederick, who remained behind in Hanover when she and George came to England. As a consequence, she has lavished all her affection on her younger boy, William, and wishes he were the eldest son and Prince of Wales. Frederick and his parents grow to despise one another, especially as George II's popularity wanes. George makes the same mistake his father made: He prefers his principality of Hanover, where he is absolute ruler, to England, where he must win the approval of Parliament.

I grew a bit impatient with Plaidy's "just the facts" prose style while reading this book, which probably means I need to take a short break before moving on to the next. She packs a lot of information into fairly compact novels, and while she gives a good overview of each reign, I sometimes wish she would spend more time describing the personalities and politics involved. The novel also seemed a bit repetitive, perhaps because George and Caroline's hatred of their son mirrored George I's hatred of them a generation before.

However, I felt I got to know the formidable Caroline well through the pages of this novel. She was a complicated, fiercely intelligent and steely woman and must certainly have been one of the most influential queens-consort in British history. My grade: B-.

Queen in Waiting by Jean Plaidy

Queen in Waiting, the second book in Jean Plaidy's Georgian Saga, focuses on a fascinating woman, Caroline of Ansbach: wife of George Augustus of Hanover, the Princess of Wales and future Queen of England.

Caroline was a much more interesting protagonist than Sophia Dorothea, the central figure of Plaidy's previous novel, The Princess of Celle. Unlike Sophia Dorothea, Caroline was fiercely intelligent, crafty and determined not to become a victim. She knew she had only to wait for the death of her loathsome father-in-law to become the power behind the English throne.

Raised as the ward of Sophia Charlotte, sister of George Lewis of Hanover, Caroline agrees to marry George Lewis's son, George Augustus, in order to remain close to her beloved guardian. The first half of the novel shows how Caroline learns to navigate the treacherous court of Hanover, which her vindictive father-in-law rules with an iron fist, and also to make herself indispensable to her conceited, hot-tempered, childish husband (whose tantrums involve him throwing his wig to the floor and kicking it around the room.) Despite her husband's failings, Caroline develops an affection for him, especially when she discovers she can manipulate him to her way of doing things, while making him think it was his idea all along.

The novel offered a fresh perspective on Duchess Sophia of Hanover, who featured prominently in The Princess of Celle. Caroline learns from the formidable, intellectual duchess how to get her way without running afoul of men with power over her. Duchess Sophia also passes along to Caroline her fierce love for England, where the duchess hopes to rule before she dies. The granddaughter of James I, Sophia is next in line in the Protestant succession because of Queen Anne's inability to produce an heir. (The English seem unlikely to allow the Catholic son of James II to take the throne.)

The duchess dies scant weeks before Queen Anne, leaving her son, George Lewis, heir to the English throne, and George Augustus and Caroline the Prince and Princess of Wales. The rest of the book details how the couple strive to ingratiate themselves with the English people while living under George Lewis's thumb. Possibly the most unappealing monarch ever to sit on Britain's throne, George I never bothers to learn English and openly expresses his preference for his principality of Hanover. He keeps his throne with the help of wily ministers and plain dumb luck. He hates his son and daughter-in-law for their popularity with the people and heaps all the indignities he can on them, including taking Caroline's children from her care. But Caroline, a survivor, bides her time positioning herself to eventually take the throne.

I am enjoying Plaidy's portrayal of the grand Georgian soap opera. Her no-frills writing is smooth, easy to read and packed with information, although I can understand why some readers find her dull. Plaidy paid inordinate attention to minor episodes in Caroline's life (intrigues among her ladies) while glossing over larger ones (the Jacobite rebellions). However, she mostly provides an enjoyable trip through the foibles and follies of history. My grade: B

The Princess of Celle by Jean Plaidy

I've managed to learn a great deal about the British monarchy from reading historical fiction, but I still have huge gaps in my knowledge when it comes to the Georgian period. (Just how did a bunch of Germans end up on England's throne, anyway?) I have been wanting to read more of Jean Plaidy's novels, so I decided to start on her Georgian saga. These 11 books begin with the story of Prince George Lewis of Hanover, later George I, and continue through the early life of Queen Victoria.

The Princess of Celle actually takes place almost entirely in Germany, with scant coverage of George I's English reign. No matter. The story of the family of German dukes who eventually produced the English heir was fascinating enough in its own right. The novel is a sprawling, absorbing family saga which chiefly tells the tale of how Sophia Dorothea came to marry her coarse, vindictive cousin George Lewis and eventually was imprisoned by him for 30 years.

The events of the book revolve around four women:

• Duchess Sophia of Hanover - Mother of George Lewis and cousin to Charles II of England, she is an intensely practical woman with fixed notions of how nobility should conduct itself. She ignores the affairs of her husband, Duke Ernest Augustus, as long as she reigns supreme at their court. However, she never forgets how Ernest's brother, George William, her original betrothed, spurned her, giving up his birthright and inheritance to Ernest if he married her in George William's place. Because of that rejection, she harbors an irrational dislike of George William's beloved duchess, Eleonore, and of her daughter, Sophia Dorothea.
• Eleonore d'Olbreuse - A French noblewoman with whom George William unexpectedly falls in love after committing himself to a life of bachelorhood. She causes George William to regret his rash promise to his brother that he would never marry or have children to claim his lands and titles. She works tirelessly for the interests and happy future of their only child, Sophia Dorothea, the Princess of Celle.
• Clara von Platen - Ernest Augustus's scheming mistress who endlessly plots against Sophia Dorothea, first to put the girl's dowry in her lover's hands and then to ruin her utterly because Sophia loves a man Clara desires, Count Konigsmarck of Sweden.
• Sophia Dorothea - The beautiful, pampered daughter of George William and Eleonore whose life takes a tragic turn when she is forced to marry her despised cousin George Lewis.

The first half of the book focuses on the brothers George William and Ernest Augustus, who shared adventures in their youth traveling around Europe and bedding beautiful women. When their older brother's wife proves barren, it falls to George William, the second eldest, to produce a heir for their family. Horrified by the idea of marriage, George William begs his younger brother to marry in his stead, promising that Ernest Augustus and his children will eventually inherit everything.

However, the brothers' relationship becomes strained when George William falls in love with Eleonore and endangers their agreement. George William also retains his dukedom of Celle, a richer province than Ernest Augustus's Hanover. Although Eleonore plans a marriage for her daughter to another German prince, Ernest Augustus, his wife Sophia and mistress Clara scheme together to persuade George William to give her to her cousin, the thoroughly disagreeable and ill-mannered George Lewis, so the wealth of Celle will eventually come to their family. George William, a weak and easily manipulated man, agrees, a decision which will have tragic consequences and lose him the love of his wife and daughter.

The book's second half focuses on how Sophia Dorothea tries to make the best of her marriage to the uncouth, philandering George Lewis. She is continually made wretched, however, by George's flaunting of his mistresses and Clara's constant scheming. Clara is a thoroughly evil character and, consequently, one of the most interesting in the book. I wish Plaidy had told more of the story from her point of view and explored her motives in more depth. Clara is like the wicked stepmother in Snow White - she wants everyone to consider her "the fairest one of all." Sophia Dorothea's youth, beauty and charm all threaten her. When Sophia falls in love with Count Konigsmarck, a man Clara desires, the princess's fate is sealed.

Sophia is the weakest of the book's primary female characters because of her impossible position. Her story serves to highlight how miserable life could be for noblewomen in unhappy marriages - their husbands could philander at will, but if they took lovers, they risked losing everything. Her sheltered childhood left her utterly incapable of dealing with the cunning plots of others, and her happiness with Count Konigsmarck could not be anything but short-lived. I felt sorry for her throughout the book as I knew her story would have a tragic ending.

Plaidy's prose became a bit dry at times, and I felt she rushed through the last quarter of the book, but the novel was an absorbing read overall that made me want to continue to the next in the series. My grade: B

A Crowning Mercy by Bernard Cornwell & Susannah Kells

I waited far too long to read another Bernard Cornwell novel after devouring his Arthurian trilogy in the late 90s. A Crowning Mercy (written with his wife, Judy, who used a pseudonym) was a rollicking read, filled with romance, peril and high adventure. It definitely whetted my appetite for more Cornwell!

Campion, the story's heroine, is a young woman raised in a dour family of English Puritans, who have taught her to fear a God of wrath and terrible punishment. Despite their strictures, Campion believes in her heart in a God of love and joy. Her encounter with the handsome Toby Lazender beside a stream gives her a first taste of how divine love can be, but she must face the worst of human cruelty and greed before she finds her own heaven on earth.

Campion's fate is inextricably entwined with the mysterious Covenant, symbolized by four beautiful golden seals that could unlock an inheritance of unimagined riches.

A Crowning Mercy is, at its heart, a very well written and intricately plotted adventure story, filled with despicable villains I wanted to boo and hiss and good-hearted heroes I wanted to cheer. The pages flew by as Campion faced one peril after another: a family plot to wed her to a pathetic man, a kidnapping, a siege, the death of a kind benefactor and the wounding of her true love, and a trial and near execution for witchcraft.

The novel examined deeper themes amid all the derring-do. The Cornwells explored how people sometimes use religion as a justification for fear and hatred, especially of women. The witchcraft trial scenes were harrowing and made me pity the real women and men throughout history who were falsely accused, tortured and executed. Our society may have moved beyond burning witches, but the story reminded me that such unreasoning fear and hatred, cloaked in religion's mantle, still exists today. The Cornwells also wove a thematic struggle throughout the novel between the notion of a God who delights in people's pain and a belief in a more kind, loving Creator.

The Cornwells also skillfully used the backdrop of the English Civil War to give the reader a good sense of the radical politics and religious fanaticism sweeping the country at the time.

A Crowning Mercy was my second read for the Historical Fiction Challenge and the February book of the month for the Historical Fiction forums at Paperback Swap. I thorougly enjoyed this novel and closed it with a sigh of regret that I had to leave its captivating world behind. Bravo, Mr. and Mrs. Cornwell! My grade: A.

A Rose for the Crown by Anne Easter Smith

History records Richard of Gloucester (later King Richard III) fathered at least two illegitimate children. We do not know their mother's identity. Anne Easter Smith has imagined her as Kate Haute, Richard's first love, to whom he was faithful until his noble birth forced him to marry another. Smith tells Richard's turbulent story through Kate's eyes in her first novel, A Rose for the Crown.

Kate spends her earliest years on a humble farm until one of her mother's relatives takes her to his manor as a companion for his daughter. She tolerates her first, arranged marriage to a much older man, a prosperous merchant, who soon leaves her a wealthy widow. Kate then marries her dashing cousin George for love - or so she thinks. George wants her only for her money and prefers the company of the stable boy. During a visit to her neighbors, Sir John and Margaret Howard, loyal supporters of the house of York, Kate begins a passionate affair with Richard of Gloucester. Richard truly loves her and his children but makes clear he will eventually have to end their relationship to marry someone of noble birth.

The novel had its flaws but was an enjoyable and intriguing read overall. It kept my attention for all of its 600-plus pages, which is no mean feat, especially for a first-time novelist. Smith's writing was smooth and for the most part well paced, and the pages flew by despite the book's length.

Smith was best at evoking the textures of late medieval England - the clothes, the rich tapestries, the food, the music - as well as less pleasant realities of life - sickness, the stench of towns, the fleas and lice that plagued everyone. Her characters were well drawn and true to the times in which they lived. Kate and Richard's romance was sweet without being cloying, and Kate's domestic life, whether visiting Richard in a palace or playing with her children in her cozy cottage, was lovingly described.

Unfortunately, Kate was something of a "Mary Sue." She was far too perfect to be totally believable. Even her supposed flaws - outspokenness and stubbornness - endeared people to her. Most everyone in the novel just loved her, even when she should have made them angry. (The handful of characters who did not love her were the obvious, one-dimensional villains.) Richard, too, was portrayed as the perfect, chivalrous lord. Smith didn't have to turn him into Shakespeare's hunchbacked murderer, but a realistically flawed Richard would have made her story more believable and interesting.

Also, Smith tried to cram too much history into the novel's last 100 pages, which covered all the events from Edward IV's death to Richard's defeat on Bosworth Field. She skimmed over the juiciest parts of Richard's story and only mentioned in passing important characters such as the Duke of Buckingham, Margaret Beaufort and the Stanleys. Henry Tudor wasn't developed at all and the reader given scant information about why he invaded England to take the crown. I was disappointed Smith hurried through the climactic events of Richard's life. But overall, I enjoyed the story enough to eventually try another by this author.

A Rose for the Crown was my first read for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge. My grade: B.

My Lady of Cleves by Margaret Campbell Barnes

Historians have long debated exactly what about Anne of Cleves was so distasteful to her husband, Henry VIII of England. After all, the portrait that inspired Henry to send for her as his fourth bride shows a comely enough woman - not beautiful, but pleasant to look at, with heavy-lidded eyes and a serene countenance. Yet Henry infamously proclaimed "I like her not" after meeting her and quickly obtained an annulment.

Margaret Campbell Barnes proposed an ingenious solution to this historical conundrum in her novel, My Lady of Cleves. Hans Holbein, the court painter sent to Germany to capture Anne's likeness, fell in love with her and painted what he saw: A beautiful soul who had captured his heart.

Until Holbein's arrival, Anne lived a placid, uneventful life in the duchy of Cleves. Anne and her family all believe Henry will pick her attractive sister, Amelia, to be his bride, and all are shocked when Henry instead sends for Anne.

Touched by Holbein's exquisite miniature of her, and awakened to a belief in her own inner beauty, Anne returns the painter's love, but because of their differing stations in life, their passion can never be consummated.

The novel follows Anne to England where, determined to please her family by making a success of her royal marriage, she works hard to learn the English language and court customs. After her rejection by Henry, she fulfills her domestic urges by becoming a trusted friend to his daughters and by efficiently managing the large income and household Henry awards her for her compliance with the annulment. Barnes shows how Anne became perhaps the luckiest of Henry's wives; not only did she keep her head, she lived out her life as an independent woman who always had a place at court as a sort of honorary Tudor.

Barnes portrayed Anne as an attractive, intelligent, practical and warm-hearted woman not deserving of the insult hurled at her by Henry of "Flanders mare." As the story progresses, Henry's nobles and finally, Henry himself, come to recognize her worth.

Barnes's novel had a warm, cozy feeling to it as it told the story of a royal wife neglected by history - not as stubborn or principled as Catherine of Aragon, nor flashy and tempestuous as Anne Boleyn, nor youthful, silly and reckless as Catherine Howard. I enjoyed the opportunity to get to know Anne of Cleves a bit better through the lens of fiction. My grade: A-

My Lady of Cleves will be republished in September.

The Sixth Wife as chick-lit protagonist

Suzannah Dunn's The Sixth Wife was an odd, tiresome and ultimately disappointing look at the last year-and-a-half of Katherine Parr's life. The title is a misnomer, as the book only mentions in passing her marriage to King Henry VIII and focuses exclusively on her relationship with Thomas Seymour.

Dunn chose to tell Kate's story through the eyes of her best friend, Catherine Willoughby, Duchess of Suffolk. That approach could have been an intriguing one, as the historical Catherine occupied her own niche in the grand drama of the Tudors. The daughter of Maria de Salinas of Spain (the faithful friend of Katherine of Aragon) the duchess became a prominent Protestant and the wife of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, who had previously been wed to Mary Tudor, sister to the king.

However, Dunn's Catherine was an unlikeable character whose behavior became more and more preposterous as the novel progressed.

***Warning: Spoilers follow.***

For the first one-third of the story, Dunn portrayed Catherine as disliking Thomas Seymour, convinced her friend made a terrible mistake by marrying him. Then the lovable rogue Thomas plants a quick, unwanted kiss on the back of her neck. Catherine falls instantly into lust, turning into a brainless, besotted, bodice-ripper heroine seduced by sweet words and clandestine sex. For a woman who described herself as self-possessed and unafraid to say what she thought, this was an unbelievable character shift. Catherine continued to protest her undying friendship and admiration for Kate while joyfully schtupping her husband (which just made me want to wring her nasty little neck).

Dunn skimmed over the most interesting parts of the story: Thomas's inappropriate relationship with the teenage Princess Elizabeth, and his subsequent trial and execution for treason. The final third of the book was somewhat touching, with Catherine repenting of her affair with Thomas as Kate succumbed to childbed fever. By then, however, I was impatiently skimming the novel, just wanting it to end so I could read something better.

Dunn turned her characters into cardboard cutouts, especially Kate Parr, who despite her portrayal through the eyes of her supposed best friend, never stepped full blooded from the pages of history, but remained a one-dimensional enigma.

I read historical novels partly to become immersed in the past, but Dunn's annoying use of modern idiom kept pulling me right back into the 21st Century. (The worst offense: Catherine referring to Edward VI, the boy king, as "little Eddie." Groan.) The author's writing style was clunky and overly simplistic, with laughable, tin-eared dialogue. The impression her novel gave was of bad chick lit, with historical personages incongruously shoved into it. Without the names Katherine Parr, Thomas Seymour and Princess Elizabeth, this could have been any tedious piece of romantic fluff.

Katherine Parr - queen, intellectual and author - deserves better than this. My grade: D.

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.

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.

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.