Ok, I took my grand old time posting the second
portion of my previous rant. Please
‘scuse me. For some fabulous reason, Blogspot has decided to muck up my formatting as well...please forgive!
1356
by Bernard
Cornwall- If I haven’t mentioned this already, one of my
favorite genres is that of historical fiction.
I get to immerse myself in a totally foreign time frame, and
‘experience’ what life may have been like in different eras. Inevitably, I come out of such novels with a
renewed sense of gratitude that I live in this particular generation! Although obviously taken with a grain of
salt, I’m actually quasi picky about what historical fiction I read and I
prefer to stick with ‘mostly accurate’ HF when I can find it. (as an aside, I
stumbled on to this link a while back, and it gave me some neat starting
points.) But I digress!! (have you noticed? I do that sometimes!)
Ok, back on topic: Bernard Cornwall is apparently
an incredibly prolific writer who stays often within the realm of HF. 1356
was my first foray into his work, and I have to say, I loved it. Based around the Battle of Poitiers that took
place between the French/Scots on one side, and the English on the other,
Cornwall paints an incredibly vivid picture of what battle was like in (yup,
you guessed it!) 1356. Vivid, but not
unforgivably and gratuitously violent.
Cornwall complements his work by including historical notes and maps-
and I was so drawn into the intertwining stories and battles that I CONSULTED
THE MAPS! (Have I mentioned that I NEVER
consult maps in novels? The first time I ever grasped the layout of Middle
Earth was earlier this year, when I bought a poster map for my son to consult
as we began to read LOTR together.)
But, maps or no maps, this story was a winner. Characters were engaging, human, and
believable, the story was well crafted, and I learned about history in spite of
myself- I felt so proud. Coincidently,
my older brother is a HUGE history buff, and loves anything and everything having
to do with battles, (descriptions of battles, descriptions of weapons used in
battles, descriptions of armor worn in battles…you get the picture) and so when
I finished reading this, the first person I called was my brother. ‘Course, since I’m his little sister, he
won’t listen to me for another 2 years.
I hope YOU take advantage sooner J Let me know if you do!
The
Other Typist by
Suzanne Rindell- Ok, so this book has been viewed, reviewed, and lauded up
and down 5th Avenue twenty times already. I know I’m merely adding my voice as one
among a clamor, but here goes. We get
introduced to the novel’s narrator, Rose, in the midst of prohibition era New
York. Rose is a bit of a mystery unto
herself, for all that she is the window through which we glimpse the tale. Rose is a typist for a police precinct; she
is charged with recording and transcribing the confessions and statements of
the felons brought in to the station for various and sundry crimes. We do get a very tangible feel for what the
occupational hazards of such a job may have been and a fascinating perspective
on the profound trust necessary to complete such a task. Men (and presumably some women) were tried
and convicted on the basis of what another human person wrote. Scary, no?
At any rate, Rose has carved out a life for
herself, climbing her way up from an anonymous beginning in a convent school,
to reaching a respected position in civil service. Rose, is, if nothing else, very respectable. Then we meet Odalie, who comes to join the
typing pool, and promptly turns Rose’s world upside down.
I still hold that my favorite
flapper/20’s/prohibition novel that I’ve encountered is Amor Towles’ Rules of Civility. The
Other Typist is not a novel in the same vein at all, exuding a much more of
manipulative, distrusting sense throughout.
In fact, the better I got to know Rose as the narrator, the less
inclined I was to believe her. That being said, the setting, the backdrop of
the story as it were, is incredibly exquisite.
The author created an incredibly tangible environment that may have you
sneaking into dilapidated wig shops at odd hours of the day.
And then it ended, and I was confused. Have at
it, then come back and tell me what it was all about.
