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Passion Blue by Victoria Strauss

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It’s the fifteenth century, and seventeen year old Guilia is the illegitimate daughter of a count and his mistress, a seamstress in his household. She’s reviled by the count’s wife, so when the count dies, his widow decides to finally send Guilia away – to a convent to become a nun.
This is the last thing Guilia wants, since she regards the convent as a prison, but there’s nothing she can do to stop from going. She has no money of her own and no other family to take her in. Before she goes, she pays a visit to an astrologer/sorcerer and hires him to make her an amulet, trapping a “spirit” inside of it that is supposed to eventually grant her her heart’s desire. In Guilia’s mind, a husband will free her of the convent, give her a home of her own, and allow her to live a life of her own choosing.
At the convent, the nuns discover that Guilia has a talent for art, and she’s taken in to learn how to paint by a master painter, Maestra Humilita. The Maestra runs an entire painting workshop of just women in the convent, something that would be impossible outside its walls. The workshop is so well-regarded that private citizens as well as churches have commissioned paintings from them.
But Guilia still has marriage and escape from the convent on her mind, and she believes the spirit has granted her heart’s desire when she meets Ormanno, a young man who has been hired to repair a fresco in the convent. As she grows closer to Ormanno, she also grows closer to Humilita, and she learns that no matter what decision she makes, it will entail great sacrifice. (Indeed, women’s roles in this time period were so incredibly limited that anything less than great sacrifice for someone who wanted any measure of independence would have rung false.)
If you were to judge Passion Blue by its author blurbs, you’d think it was historical fantasy, but you’d be mostly wrong. Granted, there’s talk of a sorcerer and astrology and spirits, but it’s all within the context of Guilia’s belief set rather than what actually happens. For those sharp readers, there’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it incident near the end of the novel that one could argue is proof of some sort of magic, but really, this novel isn’t going to appeal to those in search of their latest fantasy fix. It’s solidly for historical fiction fans.
Which is a good thing. The historical details are rich and very satisfying. I loved reading about the Renaissance techniques of creating color, of the labor that goes into preparing all of the equipment before the painter could even begin painting. I especially enjoyed reading about how intricate the color recipes were, and that they were so valuable they were written in code and kept in secret books that no one but the creator could read.
I also enjoyed reading about a way a woman in Renaissance Italy could make a life for herself that didn’t involve marriage and babies. The society of the convent is particularly interesting – the women all came to be nuns for a variety of reasons, and many of those reasons had nothing to do with religion. In some ways, the convent was a way for a group of women to function mostly independently, despite the many strict rules they had to follow.
Guilia is, perhaps, not the most perceptive of protagonists. She’s quite naive and is incapable of reading others accurately, which drives much of the conflict of the novel. She learns, though, and eventually comes to realize what readers had picked up on long before she had: her heart’s desire is not what she thought at all. It takes a huge mistake for her to come to this realization, but in the end, we’re left with a young woman who has carved out her own niche in the world.
The writing is lovely. Guilia herself seems quite young (in terms of maturity), but the writing is not juvenile. Strauss keeps the story moving at a nice clip and does a fine job interweaving Guilia’s relentless search for her heart’s desire with the historical backdrop. In less capable hands, the story may have seemed a bit slow or quiet, but I was never bored.
This is a great pick for historical fiction fans, particularly those interested in the Renaissance, women’s roles, or art. It’s also a nice change from historical fiction that re-imagines a well-known historical figure’s life. Those stories are certainly fun to read, but it can take a bit of the mystery out of the tale, since the end is a foregone conclusion.
Review copy received from the publisher/author. Passion Blue is available now.

Love and Other Perishable Items by Laura Buzo

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Laura Buzo’s Love and Other Perishable Items is an Australian import, originally published under the title Good Oil and let me just say that this might be one of my favorite reads of 2012. I haven’t read the original version, but this book is infused with Aussie spirit and colloquialisms, yet it’s never in a way that is distracting, frustrating, nor distancing for this thoroughly American reader. In fact, perhaps the strength of this book is just that: it’s a great universal story about love, longing, and growing up.

Buzo’s story is told through two distinct and unique voices. Amelia is a 15-year-old girl who is taking on her first job at Coles, a local grocery store. She lives at home with her mother and father, both of whom she finds emotionally distant. Amelia worries about her mother, particularly because of the way her father treats her. Amelia’s a feminist and wears that badge proudly; knowing her mother works and still has to come home and clean up after her entire family makes her sad.

The second voice we get is Chris’s — he’s a 21-year-old clerk at Coles, and he’s become the guy who Amelia finds herself very interested in, even though he’s much too old for her. Chris finds himself interested in Amelia, but in a very non-romantic way. He thinks she’s the kind of girl worth being friends with, and their bond from the beginning of the story is sweet, in his eyes. Chris is struggling with a number of huge things in his life. His most recent relationship with Michaela was world-blowing for him. He believed they bonded in a way that people who were truly in love bonded. Sex with her wasn’t sex; it as making a real emotional and physical connection with another person. The problem, though, was that Michaela moved back across the country. To the boy she’d been dating for a long time. Chris was just a toy to her, rather than anything serious. This shatters Chris’s world. Along with figuring out what it means to love and be loved, though, Chris also struggles with what he wants out of his future since he’s almost done with school. He’s still living at home, but he’s worried about how he’ll ever afford to move out on his clerk salary, how he’ll ever figure out what he wants to do for a career. How he’ll ever be an adult, period. When he meets Amelia, he immediately recognizes a girl who will be someone with whom he can have a good and important friendship.

The bond between Chris and Amelia is strong, despite the fact they’re both in this for very different reasons. The two of them have lengthy and interesting conversations about the meaning of life, about the purposes and goals of feminism (which helps Amelia reevaluate her feelings about her mother and her father), and perhaps my favorite, a long discussion about literature and books and what it means to have a satisfying ending (and oh, Amelia’s hatred for Charles Dickens’s Great Expectations spoke to my heart). Because the story is a dual perspective, we get the conversations from both sides. There’s Chris’s university- and worldly- educated side and Amelia’s idealistic and romantic side. But what stands out and makes these characters sing is that Buzo never suggests one way of seeing things is the right way. Both of these characters are wrestling with what they want out of life and it’s their particular places and moments that shade their perspectives entirely. The divergent approaches to life is amplified by their six-year age difference and as an adult readers, I found myself relating to both of these characters in equal measure.

Amelia is smart and intelligent and wants nothing more for the world to be right for everyone. She so longs for her first love, and she longs for it to be with Chris. He’s the first person in a long time with whom she’s opened up about what it’s like to live at home and to struggle with her feelings about her mother and her father. He’s the first person she’s ever felt truly connected to and the first guy who she feels like she could love in the way she wants to. He’s the intellectual dream boy she’s always wanted. Chris, though, is exceptionally level-headed about this, and he does not in any way ever take advantage of Amelia, despite being aware she has a crush on him. His voice is that of a young adult, rather than a teen. He’s had a lot more life experience than her, as well as a lot more intellectual experience. The thing is, though, he is never once pretentious and he never once talks down to her. Chris admires and respects Amelia as an individual — as an equivalent and equally worthwhile human being — in a way that made me so happy as a reader. Despite being a little bit of a pill at times (because he cannot pick himself up and act like an adult, even though he has the capability to do just that), I really liked Chris as a character. As much as I related to Amelia, I also related to Chris.

Both of these characters are selfish and needy at times, but because we get both perspectives, their desires and their methods of achieving them make these flaws believable and maybe even a bit charming. But what stood out to me most in Buzo’s Love and Other Perishable Items was that neither of these characters are having huge problems. Their problems are huge in their own minds, and their barriers are completely self-imposed. Chris and Amelia are their own worst enemies in the way that all people are their own self-inhibitors. But it’s through one another — through talking, sharing, relating — they realize they have the opportunity to forge ahead and change things. Of course, this is the climax of the story, and what happens shatters Amelia. It’s here when she not only realizes the sort of pain Chris was dealing with in terms of losing love, but it’s here when Chris offers Amelia the best kind of gift possible: himself. Before he moves himself forward on his new life plan, he leaves his collection of notebooks to her. It’s through these notebooks we’re offered his story and it’s through these notebooks he’ll give Amelia much more to consider. There’s also a great subplot in this book about Amelia’s friend Penny and the hurt she feels dealing with her parents’ divorce. Amelia is able to really put her life in perspective thanks to Penny, but never does it deny Amelia her own pain. It just helps her think about it a little differently.

Because this book does share a story from both the perspective of a 15-year-old and from the perspective of a 21-year-old, it’s not shy. I appreciated how Buzo was unafraid to be raw and unshy in her depiction of these characters and their situations, particularly when it came to Chris. The pain he felt upon losing Michaela more than once (because he’ll lose her more than once throughout the course of the story) tore at me in the same way that Amelia’s realization she’ll never have Chris the way she wants to also tore at me. Lost love hurts the most, but it’s also an amazing impetus for growth. But the truth is in this story, no one actually loses love. Both Amelia and Chris find a whole lot more of it.

Love and Other Perishable Items is a story about love and friendship, and the writing and storytelling reminded me a lot of CK Kelly Martin’s contemporary titles. Fans of Martin will absolutely eat this title up. I was also reminded quite heavily of Lia Hills’s The Beginner’s Guide to Living, especially when it came to portraying intelligent characters with strong voice. Because this book features an older character, it will appeal easily to teens (both because Amelia is a teen and because it allows a glimpse into “older” life) and it will appeal to 20-something readers looking for an easy-to-relate-to character (Chris goes as far as to muse about how he’ll ever afford a mortgage knowing he’s sunk under student debt and more — that’s to say, the stresses are pretty spot-on for this age group). Despite the fact the ending isn’t straight-forward nor necessarily easy to take  — it’s open-ended without a firm resolution for either character — this book was satisfying and left me feeling really happy at the end. The ride through the entire story with both of these characters was worthwhile, and I loved that I got to know and got to “get” them both wholly.

Review copy from the publisher. Love and Other Perishable Items will be available December 11.

Asunder by Jodi Meadows

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Warning: Spoilers for Incarnate ahead!
I felt pretty tepid toward Incarnate, despite its intriguing premise. Still, I was interested to see where Meadows would take the story, so I decided I would give Asunder a shot.
I’m so glad I did. Asunder is a marked improvement over Incarnate, with stronger world-building, characterization, and writing. It’s just overall much better in nearly all ways.
Ana and the other residents of Heart are still reeling from the events of Templedark, which killed off dozens of souls permanently, never to be reborn. Despite the fact that Ana saved many souls during the tragedy, some still blame her, as the only newsoul in existence.
While Ana fights for her right to exist and live in Heart, she also begins to investigate the secrets the temple and Janan hold. What she discovers is astonishing – the reason for the reincarnations, for the newsouls, for the existence of the temple.
I loved what Meadows did with her world in this installment. What Ana discovers about reincarnation is completely shocking but also completely plausible. Meadows also builds upon the sylph, which I felt were pretty weak in Incarnate. Here, we learn more of what they look like, whether they’re sentient or not, and even some hints as to their origin.
The romance here kills, and I mean that in a good way. In Incarnate, I felt the blossoming romance between Sam and Ana was a bit of a stretch, and Sam was drawn so sketchily I couldn’t believe in his feelings. But we get a much better idea of Sam’s character here, and he’s appealing while also being flawed. Ana, too, is developed more fully, beyond just her desire to be accepted as a newsoul. The development of the two characters makes for a more believable and nuanced romance. They also grapple believably with the age gap and the fact that Sam has loved deeply before, which I really appreciated reading about: it’s acknowledged and dealt with, not just brushed aside in the name of true love. There are a couple of scenes that are just this side of steamy, too, which doesn’t hurt.
Lastly, the writing is much better, with tighter plotting and much less exposition. Meadows has some very nice turns of phrase, lifting her writing above merely serviceable. It’s a lovely book to read, with no parts that lag and none that feel rushed.
I was pretty impressed with Asunder, and I’m definitely looking forward to the third book (as yet untitled), to be published in 2014.
Review copy provided by the publisher. Asunder will be published January 29, 2013.

Prophecy by Ellen Oh

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Prophecy has, in theory, everything I want in a fantasy: a female warrior protagonist, magic, political intrigue, romance. Unfortunately, the execution falls short.

Kira is a demon fighter, blessed (or cursed) with the ability to see the demons that have killed humans and overtaken their bodies for their own evil ends. To everyone else, though, it just seems like Kira is attacking innocent people, especially since the king, Kira’s uncle, has commanded her to keep the presence of the demons secret.

Due to her talents, Kira’s uncle has tasked her with protecting her twelve year old cousin, Taejo, the heir to the throne, from the demons and others who wish to do him harm. Her job not only puts her in harm’s way from the demons, but also from normal people, who don’t understand when she attacks people who resemble their friends. She also has yellow (or golden, depending on who you ask) eyes, which lead some people to think she is a demon herself. Unfortunately, all of her skills cannot prevent a traitor from striking the kingdom, and soon Kira is on the run with the prince and a few other warriors, hoping to eventually return and rescue their country from the traitor’s clutches – with the help of a mysterious and ancient prophecy.

The book is set in a version of Korea, which is interesting and makes it pretty unique in this aspect. Unfortunately, it still seemed a bit too much like the world of Graceling, a similarity that was enhanced by the plot parallels (warrior girl with strange eyes and special abilities must work for her uncle the king). 

I’m always kind of wary of books with a prophecy as a main plot point. Too often, it’s used as a lazy storytelling technique. Why must our brave heroes embark upon this journey? Because there is a prophecy that decrees it! I found that the prophecy in Prophecy fell into this category. It’s the driving force behind Kira seeking out a certain powerful item, a quest that seems a bit extraneous when the rest of the plot (demons, coups, etc.) is considered. The prophecy also involves a major secret that is rather obvious to the reader but takes ages to be revealed, making much of the book seem tedious.

Much of the story is told in dream/vision sequences, which often allow Kira to gain new information about the prophecy or a demon attack. I really dislike reading dream sequences (even the ones in Harry Potter didn’t make me a fan, and I’m a fan of almost anything Harry Potter). I tend to skip them, sometimes not even bothering to skim the text. I don’t think I’m alone in this.

So there were a few things that I didn’t care for personally, but I also felt that the writing was a bit weak, making this a below average book for most people. It tells the story, sure, but in a bit of a juvenile way, like the book is being written for a middle grade or younger audience (which it isn’t, considering the content and marketing). It couldn’t make up for the flaws in the story, as good writing often can.

I think Prophecy will still circulate among readers hungry for high fantasy, but it won’t be among their favorites.

Review copy received from the publisher. Prophecy will be available January 2.

Out of Reach by Carrie Arcos

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Rachel’s brother Micah disappeared.

Two weeks ago, she got a letter from him.

Today, she’s going to go look for him.

Carrie Arcos’s debut novel Out of Reach follows Rachel and Micah’s former best friend Tyler as they search for him. But it’s not just a road trip in search of a missing brother and missing friend. This is a story about how addiction can tear apart even the most solid of relationships. How meth addiction can ruin not just the life of the addict, but how it impacts the lives of those who love that person.

Told through Rachel’s voice, we’re given the back story of Micah’s struggle with the drug. What started as a one time thing slowly grew to be a part of who Micah was and of how he survived each and every day. Rachel knew about his drug use and had an inkling about how serious it was, but she never confronted him. She never told her parents, either. She let Micah have his addiction, seeing it as not that problematic.

Of course, it was. That’s why he disappeared. He’s living on the streets somewhere, doing what he can to make a buck and score his next stash.

But it’s not Rachel’s fault.

As Rachel and Tyler set out on the trip to find Micah, readers are given insight into his spiral into full-blown addiction. Both of them carry the weight of responsibility, and together, they’re hopeful they will make things right by finding Micah, bringing him home, and getting him the help he needs. It won’t be that easy, though.

While Arcos’s novel successfully illuminates the impact of addiction on a family, I never found the book to carry the sort of emotional heft it needed. Rachel is saddled with grief and with frustration at herself for not speaking up. For also hiding away the letter Micah sent her for weeks before choosing to see what sort of trouble he was in right now. The problem is that it’s all talk — there isn’t actually an emotional component to the story. It’s hard to connect with Rachel because she says repeatedly she feels the guilt, but that’s it. There’s not an actual expression of emotions or her guilt. It’s told, not shown, which is going to happen when much of the story is told through back story on the drive down. This isn’t a story in the moment. It’s a reflection on a story as it played out over the years. Rachel isn’t emotionally distant. Rather, there is simply no emotional connection to be made here.

This is further challenging as — spoiler alert — Rachel’s car is stolen. Where an average teenager who has snuck out from her parents’ home to go look for a missing person would feel utter anger, frustration, and rage about a car being stolen, Rachel fills out a missing car report and that’s it. For a moment she considers her options and feels like she might be stuck, but the second the report is filed, it’s tucked away and forgotten. The thought about where her car could be, how she could go find her brother, nor how she could get home aren’t considered again. It’s odd and jarring to the reader because Rachel’s emotions do not match the situation. There are no emotions, period. And where she could have been easily void of emotions, which is a valid way for a character to be, her reflections upon her guilt show that she indeed has experienced them before. That they are a part of her. Us readers, though, never get to see them.

It’s impossible for me to write this paragraph without spoiling, so drop down if you don’t want it. But I found the ending of this book to make this lack of emotion even more difficult. Rachel and Tyler leave before finding Micah, though she is reunited with her car through one of the most ridiculous scenes in the book. On the drive home, Rachel and Tyler admit to potentially having feelings for one another, and that both of them are devastated by the life Micah chose. Beyond that, though, we never hear how Rachel feels about leaving for home without him. For all of the guilt and fear she talks about having, again, we have nothing. In fact, the ending was so flat and singular that I wondered what the point of the journey was. There wasn’t an arc. It could be argued — and quite fairly — that the journey and arc are of Rachel’s worries and fears and guilt shifting from personal responsibility to understanding that an addict is an addict and can only seek help for him or herself. The problem is, then, the lack of emotional connection or weight behind the narrative makes this arc hard to see and unsatisfying.

Likewise, the other issue I had is that nothing in this story is at stake. Rachel’s brother is missing. If he’s found, there’s an avenue for the story to expand. But because — spoiler — he never is found, there is nothing gained and nothing lost. Had this story happened immediately upon Rachel receiving the letter from him, there would be much more at stake. That waiting period though, which is explained as her way of processing all she and her family had been through with Micah’s addiction, removes the stakes. It’s almost as if Rachel knows finding him won’t happen. This journey is much more for her and for Tyler than it is for Micah; but again, since Rachel doesn’t make her emotions palpable, it’s tough to see her arc or what’s at stake for her. Out of Reach starts at the lowest part of the story and ends in the same place.

Arcos’s writing is fine, the pacing is even (the bulk of the story takes place within a 24-hour period), and even though this story fell flat for me, she’s tapped into an interesting enough topic that I would pick up future books by her. The problem is that Out of Reach doesn’t quite do enough in the story to make it memorable, particularly when there are other books about addiction that are stronger. Does this successfully illustrate how addiction can ruin a family? Absolutely. And I’d be silly to not acknowledge that this book has merits — it did earn a National Book Award nomination — but for me, it was simply okay. While I don’t expect to relate to characters in every book I read, I do expect to feel emotional connection on some level. Here, there was nothing. Additionally, I didn’t like the tactic of making the story a circle, of starting and ending in the same place because it simply didn’t push the narrative forward here.

Pass this one off to readers who are interested in stories of addiction. It’s not high literary, so it should appeal to a wider range of readers with that interest. For stories of addiction told from the perspective of those dealing with it, check out Blake Nelson’s Recovery Road or Amy Reed’s Clean, both of which offer deeper insight into the emotional heft of the issues. For an exploration of alcohol addiction, there is Tim Tharp’s The Spectacular Now, too. To Arcos’s credit, I can’t think of another story that so strongly explores the impact of addiction on the family, rather than self, so certainly, her book is a needed addition.

Out of Reach is available now. Review copy purchased by me.