The Cartographer of No Man's Land is another World War I story, so read no further if you're tired of the Great War. Canadian Angus MacGrath enlists after his brother-in-law is reported MIA; their bond is such that he is determined to find his BIL, regardless of the fact that there's a war on. Angus is told he'll be a cartographer in London, but naturally ends up on the front lines (all the better for searching for a missing soldier, no doubt). The book, P. S. Duffy's debut novel, alternates viewpoints between Angus in France and his son, Simon Peter, home in Nova Scotia. In that way, The Cartographer of No Man's Land becomes as much a coming-of-age story as a war story, and maybe more so.
I didn't love this book. I liked it, but it began very slowly and I was well, well into the book's 384 pages before I cared about the characters. I believe this is partly owing to the fact that there are a lot of characters, both in France and in Canada, and because of the perspective switching I'd have to jump back to previous chapters to remind myself who someone was; it was also, partly, owing to the fact that the story unfolds slowly, with much key history sprinkled here and there throughout the book. The book begins in February 1917 and ends in April 1918, which actually seems quite (too) compressed given all that happens.
Duffy does a nice job weaving in one of the greatest disasters to ever befall Canada's Maritime provinces, the Halifax Explosion in December 1917. Nova Scotia is beautiful land; it is surprising that, as prominently as Mahone Bay figures into the story, frequently I felt The Cartographer of No Man's Land could have been happening anywhere. In describing the Halifax Explosion, Duffy gives the reader the strongest sense of what this place - Nova Scotia, 1917 - was really like.
Ultimately, I liked Cartographer well enough, but unless you absolutely can't get enough of World War I fiction, you probably aren't missing too much.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman
Several months ago, my friend Clio wrote a mostly glowing review of Robert K. Massie's Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman. Unfortunately, at about the same time my mom read the book and gave me a less-than-glowing report. Good daughter that I am, I listened to my mom. My bad.
So how did I even come to read Catherine the Great? My local library is currently closed for renovations, so the only library books I have access to are e-books; evidently, many people find themselves in this predicament (the library is a popular place) and every week it seems fewer title are available. I downloaded it and never looked back. In fact, I thoroughly enjoyed Massie's meticulously researched and engagingly written portrait of Russia's last female ruler.
Catherine, Massie informs his readers, entered the world as a minor German princess by the name of Sophie Friederike Auguste von Anhalt-Zerbst-Dornburg (but not too minor: two of her first cousins did become kings of Sweden!). In any case, she was plucked from relative obscurity when Russia's Empress Elizabeth summoned her, at the age of 14, to travel to Russia and marry the Empress's nephew, the future Peter III.
To say the marriage was unhappy is a bit of an understatement - it's not entirely clear that the marriage was ever consummated, to say nothing of the small matter of Peter's death, which Catherine may or may not have orchestrated in order to become Empress. (Based on the few days I spent in St. Petersburg this summer, I can report that the locals still appear divided as to Catherine's role.) Not surprisingly, once in power, Catherine proved a formidable ruler. Her years on the throne included some of the most momentous years in Russia's history. From the partition of Poland, which brought Lithuania, Belarus and Ukraine under Russian control, to the wars with Turkey, which gave Catherine the Crimean peninsula and ports on the Black Sea, she presided over Russia's physical enlargement, and the accompanying growth in its spheres of influence.
Her reign was also notable for its length. Catherine ruled longer than Peter the Great, and longer than virtually all of her contemporaries - certainly longer Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, whose removal from the throne (and subsequent beheadings) upset Catherine's view of the world and, arguably, from which she never fully recovered. Certainly, Catherine was concerned with the politics of an ever-shifting world. A complex woman, she was also a consummate art collector, friend of the great philosophes and, at least in the beginning, an enlightened thinker and reformist. (Also, she had many lovers, including more than one near the end of her life who were something like one-third her age.)
Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman is, on the whole, an extremely interesting biography of a fascinating woman. I do feel the first part of the book, which focuses on Catherine's years as a German princes and Russian archduchess, is slightly better than the part of the book focused on her years as Empress. The reason is that, in order for the reader to understand the magnitude of the challenges facing Catherine, Massie provides an in-depth analysis of many of the issues. On the one hand, this is useful, and does make for an informative read. On the other hand, I didn't really need so many details on, say, serfdom or the politics of the French Revolution, and I occasionally felt a bit bogged down by the level of detail Massie provides. Still, this is small complaint, and shouldn't hold back an otherwise-interested reader. Speaking of which, who should read this book? Those interested in European history, certainly, but also anyone who loves a good biography, strong writing, and an author who can transport the reader to a world that can be hard to imagine.
So how did I even come to read Catherine the Great? My local library is currently closed for renovations, so the only library books I have access to are e-books; evidently, many people find themselves in this predicament (the library is a popular place) and every week it seems fewer title are available. I downloaded it and never looked back. In fact, I thoroughly enjoyed Massie's meticulously researched and engagingly written portrait of Russia's last female ruler.
Catherine, Massie informs his readers, entered the world as a minor German princess by the name of Sophie Friederike Auguste von Anhalt-Zerbst-Dornburg (but not too minor: two of her first cousins did become kings of Sweden!). In any case, she was plucked from relative obscurity when Russia's Empress Elizabeth summoned her, at the age of 14, to travel to Russia and marry the Empress's nephew, the future Peter III.
To say the marriage was unhappy is a bit of an understatement - it's not entirely clear that the marriage was ever consummated, to say nothing of the small matter of Peter's death, which Catherine may or may not have orchestrated in order to become Empress. (Based on the few days I spent in St. Petersburg this summer, I can report that the locals still appear divided as to Catherine's role.) Not surprisingly, once in power, Catherine proved a formidable ruler. Her years on the throne included some of the most momentous years in Russia's history. From the partition of Poland, which brought Lithuania, Belarus and Ukraine under Russian control, to the wars with Turkey, which gave Catherine the Crimean peninsula and ports on the Black Sea, she presided over Russia's physical enlargement, and the accompanying growth in its spheres of influence.
Her reign was also notable for its length. Catherine ruled longer than Peter the Great, and longer than virtually all of her contemporaries - certainly longer Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, whose removal from the throne (and subsequent beheadings) upset Catherine's view of the world and, arguably, from which she never fully recovered. Certainly, Catherine was concerned with the politics of an ever-shifting world. A complex woman, she was also a consummate art collector, friend of the great philosophes and, at least in the beginning, an enlightened thinker and reformist. (Also, she had many lovers, including more than one near the end of her life who were something like one-third her age.)
Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman is, on the whole, an extremely interesting biography of a fascinating woman. I do feel the first part of the book, which focuses on Catherine's years as a German princes and Russian archduchess, is slightly better than the part of the book focused on her years as Empress. The reason is that, in order for the reader to understand the magnitude of the challenges facing Catherine, Massie provides an in-depth analysis of many of the issues. On the one hand, this is useful, and does make for an informative read. On the other hand, I didn't really need so many details on, say, serfdom or the politics of the French Revolution, and I occasionally felt a bit bogged down by the level of detail Massie provides. Still, this is small complaint, and shouldn't hold back an otherwise-interested reader. Speaking of which, who should read this book? Those interested in European history, certainly, but also anyone who loves a good biography, strong writing, and an author who can transport the reader to a world that can be hard to imagine.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
The Tinsmith
I can only assume that I am not the target audience for Tim Bowling's The Tinsmith.
This is odd, given that I've long devoured any Civil War-themed reading I encountered. For example? you ask. April, 1865; 1861; anything written by Jeff Shaara; and of course, my all-time favorite, Gone with the Wind, (which needs no blog post by me) and Rhett Butler's People and presumably you get the idea. Also odd since I seem to be on Wild West kick (To Hell on a Fast Horse, Hell on Wheels, and high on my reading list, The Last Gunfight). Bowling's Tinsmith is a Civil War mystery that follows the two main protagonists for 20 years, from the battlefield of Antietam, where their bond was forged, to the salmon canneries of British Columbia, where they find themselves fighting many of the same forces they tried to vanquish when they wore the blue of the Union army.
The story sounded promising. So what's the problem? To begin with, it's just too bloody. From a gruesome death that is central to the story (and as the backdrop of the story is the bloodiest day in American history, you can be sure the death is pretty damn gruesome) to what seems to be gratuitous gore at the canneries (and, yes, I know it was bloody work, but still), I found myself regularly skimming chunks of the narrative, lest I see too clearly the scene being presented to me. Also, Bowling simply has too many characters. It is particularly difficult to keep up with the ones who appear on a handful of pages, disappear for 100 pages and then reappear, as if by magic, leaving the reader scratching their head at one too many coincidences (or in plain confusion). Worse, in several cases, there are sub-plots that seem to serve no greater purpose. At one point, a spiritualist arrives on the scene, but I never did figure out why (or how she was part of the larger story).
Lastly, Bowling, through his characters, seems to feel the need to remind the reader every few pages of past events, namely that the protagonists, Dr. Baird and John, first encountered one another at Antietam, that Antietam was bloody hell, and that it was a (the?) defining moment in their lives. And just for good measure, the chapters are told from different perspectives...also meaning that we hear, for example, about Antietam, over and over from different characters. More than once I thought, didn't I read those lines of dialogue 200 pages ago only to flip back and confirm that, yes, 200 pages ago I read the lines from Dr. Baird's perspective. Now I am reading them from John's.
I wanted to like this book. Very much so. But I couldn't and I didn't. If you want a fine Antietam mystery, I can highly recommend Jim Lehrer's No Certain Rest. But pass on The Tinsmith.
This is odd, given that I've long devoured any Civil War-themed reading I encountered. For example? you ask. April, 1865; 1861; anything written by Jeff Shaara; and of course, my all-time favorite, Gone with the Wind, (which needs no blog post by me) and Rhett Butler's People and presumably you get the idea. Also odd since I seem to be on Wild West kick (To Hell on a Fast Horse, Hell on Wheels, and high on my reading list, The Last Gunfight). Bowling's Tinsmith is a Civil War mystery that follows the two main protagonists for 20 years, from the battlefield of Antietam, where their bond was forged, to the salmon canneries of British Columbia, where they find themselves fighting many of the same forces they tried to vanquish when they wore the blue of the Union army.
The story sounded promising. So what's the problem? To begin with, it's just too bloody. From a gruesome death that is central to the story (and as the backdrop of the story is the bloodiest day in American history, you can be sure the death is pretty damn gruesome) to what seems to be gratuitous gore at the canneries (and, yes, I know it was bloody work, but still), I found myself regularly skimming chunks of the narrative, lest I see too clearly the scene being presented to me. Also, Bowling simply has too many characters. It is particularly difficult to keep up with the ones who appear on a handful of pages, disappear for 100 pages and then reappear, as if by magic, leaving the reader scratching their head at one too many coincidences (or in plain confusion). Worse, in several cases, there are sub-plots that seem to serve no greater purpose. At one point, a spiritualist arrives on the scene, but I never did figure out why (or how she was part of the larger story).
Lastly, Bowling, through his characters, seems to feel the need to remind the reader every few pages of past events, namely that the protagonists, Dr. Baird and John, first encountered one another at Antietam, that Antietam was bloody hell, and that it was a (the?) defining moment in their lives. And just for good measure, the chapters are told from different perspectives...also meaning that we hear, for example, about Antietam, over and over from different characters. More than once I thought, didn't I read those lines of dialogue 200 pages ago only to flip back and confirm that, yes, 200 pages ago I read the lines from Dr. Baird's perspective. Now I am reading them from John's.
I wanted to like this book. Very much so. But I couldn't and I didn't. If you want a fine Antietam mystery, I can highly recommend Jim Lehrer's No Certain Rest. But pass on The Tinsmith.
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