Recently Completed #9

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Two books by Georgette Heyer (my not-so-secret guilty reading): These Old Shades and Friday's Child.

I enjoyed the second book more than the first, although there are similarities. In both Shades and Child, the heroine is submissive to and admiring of the hero. This is taken to incredible extremes in Shades, however, to the point where I was rolling my eyes and wishful of slapping the grovelling Léonie. At least Hero in Child has the excuse of being naive and of having been brought up in ignorance and seclusion. And she's much more charming than Léonie, and manages to stand up for herself without coming across as downright unpleasant.

Shades was a book I'd often wanted to read without actually knowing its title. Reading Devil's Cub, I became aware that there was very likely to be a book that had been written prior to it, about Léonie and her Monseigneur. Looking at Shades in the shop, I realised it had to be that book. But I had no idea Léonie was going to be quite so teeth-grinding. One more exchange about how she adored Monseigneur or how she snarled at anyone who criticised him (however justly) and the book would have hit the wall.

Shades desperately lacked what I enjoy most in Heyer's books: the spirited arguments between characters. It picked up at one point where there was an argument about a 'borrowed' horse and where Léonie had gone and other grounds for complaint I've forgotten. Enjoyable though that scene was, it didn't make up for a largely turgid and often downright annoying read.

In Child, Hero's hero-worship (sorry!*) of Sherry and her naive reliance on the tall tales he tells to justify his not-entirely ton behaviour leads to hilarious scenes between the two. Sherry never takes advantage of Hero's innocence, although others do. He's charmed by it, bemused by it, and often also driven to distraction by it. Hero blunders adorably into one mess after another, and is set off by the romantic George, pining away for the Incomparable, who has a string of suitors she likes to play off against each other. I loved Hero, but wouldn't want to be her. Unlike Léonie, though, she didn't make me cringe.

The third book I've read recently is The Palace of Eternity by Bob Shaw. Shaw's an uneven writer with whom I persist because occasionally he produces something brilliant. Sadly, this book is not it. The first half is okay, with Mack Tavernor (misspelt as Taverner in his very own back-cover blurb) finding his life thrown into turmoil when the human war with the Syccans comes too close to home. But then Mack takes up the cause of some artists and poets who have rebelled against the military take-over of their world, for not very clear reasons. Then, once he's rescued all but the ones with names, they vanish from the story. Never mentioned again. Such a meander into a dead-end isn't something you can get away with in a very short book.

Then we went through some mysticism in the course of which I lost all suspension of disbelief. Fortunately, the book began to retrieve itself with a sequence in which Mack's consciousness is imprisoned inside the brain of his growing son. Unfortunately, the book showed little interest in exploring the ramifications of that uneasy relationship. Rather, it seemed to rush to the point where a minor character was suddenly revealed as being Very Important before hitting the end.

I can see why Suddenly-Important Character is taken prisoner by aliens who've never taken prisoners before. It's explained in the narrative. I can't see why Mack is taken alongside, though. Eh.

An uneven book by an uneven writer. Slow Glass it ain't.

*Actually, I'm not sorry.

Currently Reading #34

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I'm about halfway through Ada Blackjack: A True Story of Survival in the Arctic by Jennifer Niven, which tells the story of the disaster that overcomes an expedition of four young white men and Ada, an Inuit woman hired to sew for them, when they venture to colonise Wrangel Island in 'The Friendly Arctic'. They've been sadly misled by expedition founder Vilhjalmur Stefansson into believing life on Wrangel will be easy. You'd think at least the one member of the expedition who'd been to Wrangel before--and nearly died there of starvation--wouldn't be taken in. But Stefansson (born Stephenson) seems to have a charismatic hold over those he meets. Even when he knows perfectly well he hasn't got the money to send the relief ship on which the expedition is depending, he blithely reassures the families that all is well, and that their relatives are in no greater danger than they would be at home. Ahem.

This book is a fascinating read. Niven's obviously researched the story thoroughly, and she makes no attempt to gloss over the more reprehensible behaviour of the people involved, or to gift Ada with a hagiography. I do wonder if she's not sometimes tempted to label Stefansson a dangerous fantasist, but she never does. Perhaps she's content merely with allowing us to deduce this for ourselves.

There's a harrowing account of one expedition member's experiences with scurvy and of Ada's confrontations with the polar bears of which she's terrified. Even though I know things are not going to end well, I can't resist reading on. A compelling, well-researched story.