The Witch’s Daughter, Paula Brackston

This reminded me quite a bit of Chocolat in the opening, but with a less personable main character. I didn’t mind that so much, as I’ve been told this is a witch story where there really are dark powers, shades of grey, etc, etc. Once I got to the storytelling part, too, that was tolerable historical fiction, though not anything really surprising. (For a similar story about plague, for example, there’s Year of Wonders, by Geraldine Brooks.)

In the end, it just fizzled out for me. Which is unfortunate, since I also had The Winter Witch to read, and was hoping for things from the Welsh setting (although a little put off that the characters were called Cai and Morgana, but no, they weren’t that Cai and Morgana and nor did they seem to have any connection — why would you do that?). The writing is okay, but not brilliant; the plot is okay, but not brilliant. The characters were… not really doing anything for me, particularly not Gideon. When a character is pretty much introduced via a rape scene, you can pretty much guarantee I’m not going to get on with him.

Not a story that worked out for me, in any case. Ben Babcock’s review on Goodreads sums up the promise and the disappointment of this book really well.

Rating: 2/5

Throne of Glass, Sarah J. Maas

I’m a little bit disappointed about this one, I’m afraid. I’ve been hearing so much hype about Sarah J. Maas’ work. And it was fun, but it felt thin. There is clearly a world built up behind this, but we see so little of it, and so much of it is introduced according to convenience. Suddenly a Wyrdmark! Suddenly magic powers! Suddenly that’s why that character did X! Lots of jumping! to! conclusions!

Given the hype, I guess I was expecting more of this. It is great that there’s a female main character who is very capable, who is a good assassin, and yet who has morals and a softer side. It’s nice that she’s both kickass and in love with gorgeous dresses: it’s counter to something that always rubs me wrong, for example like Katsa in Graceling, where she totally rejects femininity (if I remember rightly; must reread that soon and get onto the other books). And I liked the tension between her and Chaol, her and Dorian, up to the point where things started happening and then I just… didn’t get it. If you have feelings for either or both, treat them with a little more care! It’s like she expected them not to mind that they both had feelings for her, were both close to her?

I mean, if it’s going to end up as a polyamorous relationship then that’s fine, but it’d surprise me greatly from a YA book.

I’m intrigued enough that I’ve reserved Crown of Midnight from the library; ambivalent enough that I’m not going to buy it.

Rating: 3/5

A Taste of Blood Wine, Freda Warrington

The copy on the front definitely captures a lot about this book. ‘Throbs with lush romanticism,’ says The Times. That’s a perfect description right there. It’s lush, gothic, romantic, and I’m not entirely sure what to make of it. I found it a compulsive read, and I found the way it treats the morality of vampirism very interesting. It doesn’t shy away from the implications of evil, parasitism, etc, but it doesn’t wholly embrace them, either: Warrington’s vampires have feelings, doubts, difficulties, according to the kind of people they are. The female lead worries about her amorality, and the book doesn’t disguise that there’s something monstrous about a love which demands this kind of sacrifice.

I found the relationships between the characters very well done: Charlotte’s relationships with her family, Karl’s with Ilona and Kristian, the ambivalent side-switching of the others. Kristian’s power over them all feels real, as does their equal and opposite desire to be free of him that locks them in a holding pattern around him. Warrington resists the urge to make things too easy: Charlotte’s family can’t cope with her eventual transformation, with the way her true self is revealed to them through what she chooses.

I liked the background of science, too: the search for understanding of what Karl and the other vampires are, of how it relates to what we know of matter, how they might relate to a GUT (grand unified theory of everything). I liked that Charlotte is a part of that search, with a scientific drive and understanding, and that it’s not just to please her father or anyone else that she thinks that way, despite the fact that her entire life is bounded by what she thinks others want of her.

And yet. I’m not sure what, at the end, makes me ambivalent. In part, it’s the amorality of it all, I think: I can appreciate the exploration of it, even the impulses behind it, but I can’t view it as a triumph of love over all. Or, I suppose it is — a triumph of love over morality, over humanity. I can’t sympathise with that central choice to become immortal and immortalise love at the price that has to be paid here — a price that’s not even paid by Karl and Charlotte, but by the people they will drive mad or kill to sustain their lives. It makes that price so very clear, makes Charlotte’s choice so clear-eyed and knowing, that it’s both better and worse than other Vampire-For-Love transformations. Better, because it acknowledges it; worst, because we’re still meant to sympathise with that destructive love.

I’m not sure if I want to read A Dance in Blood Velvet, etc. I did find this very compelling to read, and yet.

Rating: 4/5