Friday, February 28, 2014

Year of Wonders: A Novel of the Plague

A friend recommended Year of Wonders to me recently and so, particularly having read Geraldine Brooks's most recent novel, March, I thought I would give it a go. Year of Wonders has going for it the fact that it's historical fiction (which regular readers will know is my prefered fiction genre), as well as Brooks's wonderful prose and dialogue. These are the real strengths of the book. Brooks notes in the author's note the extent of research she did for this book, not only on the plague (more on that in a minute), but on the minutiae of rural, English, seventeenth century life.

Year of Wonders is the story of a small English village infected by the plague in 1666. The protagonist, Anna Frith, is an 18-year-old widow with two small boys and a position as a parlourmaid at the rectory. As the cases of black death mount, the town's citizens make the bold and unselfish decision to seal themselves off from the rest of world, lest the plague reach other villages. This part of the story is based on the true story of the English village of Eyam, as Brooks explains. The characters, however, from Anna to the Rector Michael Mompellion and his wife Elinor are fictional.

As I've said both the writing and the research are impeccable. My complaint, however, lies with the character of Anna Frith. A few years ago, I read Annette Vallon: A Novel of the French Revolution, which I enjoyed immensely, except for the way in which Annette consistently got herself into (and out of) situations that absolutely beggared believe and also made her seem a bit too self-righteous and/or martyresque for me to be deeply invested in her as a character. I have the same issue with Anna Frith. From taming wild horses to delivering premature, breech babies, Anna does it all, when if she'd done just a bit less, I might have liked her more. (The midwifery scenes brought to mind The Midwife of Venice, set slightly earlier than Year of Wonders, but with many similarities.) Also, although this may be splitting hairs, Anna's obsession with Elinor was definitely weird.

Finally, and I've heard this from the friend who recommended Year of Wonders to me as well, but the ending simply does not make sense. The last 10-15 pages seem to belong to another book, which is a shame because there are any number of more believable endings Brooks could have conjured and still kept with the overall story.

Monday, February 24, 2014

Chronicles of Avonlea & Further Chronicles of Avonlea

Anne of Green Gables (and all that came after) was one of my favorite books as a girl. How was it I had never read L.M. Montgomery's Chronicles of Avonlea or Further Chronicles of Avonlea? Determined to rectify this omission, I read both recently. Montgomery's stories are, it must be said, a bit formulaic, with an innocence and a naivete that seems contrived, if not impossible. Widows, orphans, and old maids feature prominently; generally, love comes to all, often late in life, and virtually all stories end happily ever after. There is a sweetness to some, a sappiness to others, but it must be said that, generally, the people and places run to sameness. Montgomery's star is the setting, her beloved Prince Edward Island, whose twilights glimmer, waters dance, and beauty imbues each tale Montgomery spins. As I haven't much to add regarding the Chronicles and Further Chronicles of Avonlea, I can at least share a few pictures (starting with the Green Gables house) of the island that shaped all of Montgomery's writings. It really is a lovely place.






Monday, February 17, 2014

The Assassination of the Archduke: Sarajevo 1914 and the Romance That Changed the World

One must wonder what might have been had Gavrilo Princip's bullet not found Franz Ferdinand in June 1914. Only months earlier the archduke, afterall, had observed presciently that war between Russia and Austria would "encourage revolution in both countries and thereby cause both Emperor and Tsar to push each other from their thrones. For these reasons, I consider war to be lunacy..." He did not live to see the prophecy fulfilled.

I'm getting ahead of myself, though, for Greg King and Sue Woolmans's Assassination of the Archduke is not another geopolitical what-might-have-been as much as it is an intimate look at the private side of Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie. Make that his morganatic wife. I first learned of morganatic marriage when I read the Duke of Windsor's memoirs. As presented by that duke, it didn't seem so terrible - Wallis Simpson would have become his wife and consort, but not held the title of queen and the crown could never pass to any children they might have. Morganatic marriage in the House of Habsburg was an entirely different matter, with open insults heaped upon Sophie for the entirety of the 14 years of her marriage to her Franzi, and then continued upon their death. Suffice it to say, in 19th century Vienna, Prince William wouldn't have even been permitted a morganatic marriage to Miss Middleton!

If the Vienna aristocracy comes in for the worst of it from King and Woolmans (with Emperor Franz Josef and his lackey Montenuevo bearing the brunt of the criticism), the Serbs fare only slightly better. The reader cannot help but feel they are a violent and wretched people, deserving of every misery the twentieth century heaped on them. This is undoubtedly an over-broad portrayal, and one that feels rather unfair, at least based on the evidence presented here. Yes, they killed their king and queen in a midnight raid on a palace, but then again, so did the French (although it took them a bit longer to actually do the killing), and yet the French are seldom, if ever, portrayed as barbaric and backward.

In the same way that I wondered whether the authors were too unkind to the Serbians, I also wondered whether they might have been overly generous with Franzi and Soph. Much of the material for this book comes from statements and memories shared by their children who, one imagines, may not have been entirely unbiased. The eldest was but 13 when Franz Ferdinand and Sophie were assassinated; moreover the insults borne by the mother were also suffered by the children. It seems possible in the circumstances then that they might have then felt their parents rather more perfect and heroic than they were in life. (The grandchildren have engaged in a prolonged effort to get tour guides to be "kinder" in describing the Archduke to tourists. When such are your sources, your story can only go in one direction.) I'm not suggesting they were bad people, but the portrait painted by King and Woolmans suggests the Archduke and his wife were near saints. More surprisingly, is the Kasier's appearance as a warmheared friend to the archduke, warmhearted not being an adjective I've ever considered in connection with the Kaiser before.

On the whole, I found The Assassination of the Archduke to be highly readable and an entirely fresh take on the events leading up to World War I. Certainly King and Woolmans provide wonderful insight on the last days of the Habsburg empire and the intrigue of what was once Europe's most glittering court. I highly recommend it for history lovers or those who are looking for World War I era nonfiction that isn't simply another recounting of all the battles won and last and both sides of the war. Four stars.

Monday, February 10, 2014

The Colonel and Little Missie: Buffalo Bill, Annie Oakley, and the Beginnings of Superstardom in America

A friend send me her local library's list of recommended readings recently and I was intrigued by several of them, not least Larry McMurtry's The Colonel and Little Missie: Buffalo Bill, Annie Oakley, and the Beginnings of Superstardom in America...even though I really, really meant to stop reading about the wild, wild west after my adventures with Billy the Kid, the railways, Wyatt Earp, and most recently, Lewis & Clark (and company).

In fairness (to me), The Colonel and Little Missie was much more about the west than I expected - the shows that made Buffalo Bill and Annie Oakley famous take second billing to the places and adventures that made them. In some ways, this was disappointing, as I found the most interesting parts of the book were those that dealt with the mounting of Buffalo Bill's Wild West - the 80+ car train, the hundreds of performers borne across the ocean and through Europe, the show that stole a bit of thunder from Chicago's World Fair.

A far greater amount of ink is devoted to "the colonel" than is devoted to "little missie," but in fairness (to McMurtry), Annie Oakley seems to have done her best to live as quiet a life as possible for a mega-star, and despite her skill with a gun, McMurtry clearly had less to work with as pertains to Phoebe Ann Moses Butler. As an aside: is it any wonder she adopted a stage name?

The Colonel and Little Missie is a very quick read, enriched by the many photographs McMurtry has included. I enjoyed it, event if I really am done reading how the west was won. I think.