British fiction

Changeless: Gail Carriger (The Parasol Protectorate, Book 2)

Author’s note: Written in 2015

Alexia Tarabotti is back! Now married to Conall Maccon, Alpha of the Woolsey pack, and promoted to Muh Jah on the Shadow Council for the Queen of England, life is busier than ever. All of the military regiments overseas have returned to England—and there's at least one setting up camp on her front lawn—and there's a rather peculiar force turning all members of the supernatural set human, at least in a particular area. When that space begins to move northward toward Scotland, following her husband, Alexia decides to follow him via dirigible. Forced into traveling with escorts, Alexia is joined by her French maid Angelique, her husband's claviger Tunstell (who is entirely in love with her friend Ivy Hisselpenny), her antagonistic half-sister Felicity—who is particularly angsty as the youngest sister is in the throes of planning her marriage, and—not to be outdone—her close friend Ivy Hisselpenny, who is newly engaged to one Captain Featherstonehaugh (but kind of irrevocably in love with Tunstell).

Before she leaves, however, she meets one particularly interesting French woman by the name of Madame Lefoux, who daylights as a hatmaker, but is a brilliant inventor behind closed doors, and was commissioned by Conall to make her one helluva parasol... that does everything but function as a parasol.

What's most interesting about Madame Lefoux is that she dresses in men's clothing, tailored to fit and accentuate her female body. She wears pants and waistcoats and cravats and the whole bit. It's glorious, if a bit scandalous. There are also some indications that she may be bisexual, as there is an interesting sexual/romantic tension between her and Alexia, and this all makes a very interesting commentary on sexuality and power in [modified] Victorian society. Whether that says anything about Alexia is kind of unspecified, although her "discomfort" might lend some clue.

On the dirigible, it becomes apparent that somebody is trying rather hard to rid England of Alexia, first by poisoning her food (which unfortunately affects Tunstell instead) and then by pushing her off the edge of the deck and apparently wrestling with Madame Lefoux. Alexia saves herself on the side of the beast, however, and makes it back to safety no worse for wear.

Once in Scotland, the group meets up with her husband and travels to Kingair Castle, where they are met with a surly, unattractive woman who is introduced as Conall's great-great-granddaughter. Alexia doesn't take too kindly to the sudden realization that her husband had been married once before and he never told her. Frankly, I can't blame her.

While in Kingair, at least as many issues arise as are solved. The source of the humanizing agent turns out to be a mummy brought back from Egypt. The individual ransacking Alexia's room and trying to kill her is her French maid, who had at some point in her past—surprise!—been romantically involved with Madame Lefoux.

But the real kicker to this book is the ending. And I'm telling you, I got so mad I fumed. I almost threw my book.

Alexia is pregnant. Surprise of the ages, since, theoretically, supernaturals are incapable of producing offspring. But despite the fact that Alexia couldn't possibly have slept with anyone else and certainly wouldn't lie about it, her bloody husband flips out and starts swearing at her in front of everybody until she and Madame Lefoux leave for London.

Now. Believe me. I understand that it looks bad. And Conall is emotional (at best). But this was simply uncalled for. He married a preternatural, which had never been done before, so I don't know why he couldn't believe that the union would be capable of producing something no one ever had before: a baby.

Soulless: Gail Carriger (The Parasol Protectorate, Book 1)

Author’s note: Written in 2014, this writing style is no longer indicative of my modus operandi, but I stand by the gist of my points herein.

CONTAINS SPOILERS. BE ON YOUR GUARD.

Soulless is the first novel in a series of 5 by Gail Carriger, a writer who is both hilarious and brilliant, and unquestionably has my loyalty after just this one novel.

I read it in the span of about a day and a half, just purely because I was so into it. And I was putting off my homework. As per usual. So sue me. (Don't, please, I beg you.)

Although the common mythology is that vampires and werewolves lack souls because they're "undead" if you will, Carriger has flipped this concept around, instead claiming that they have an excess of soul, which is what allows them to be supernatural in the first place. Alexia Tarabotti, our heroine, is what they refer to as a preternatural, or an otherwise normal human being who has been born without a soul. What this means is that she counteracts all supernatural-ness; coming into contact with a supe causes an immediate reversion to humanity for the werewolf/vampire/ghost in question, which is particularly interesting and, at times, sort of dangerous. This soullessness is, in fact, hereditary, and she got the trait from her Italian father, a heritage she and her family are most embarrassed about because they are, after all, British in the nineteenth century. (From my studies, I've gathered that this disdain of foreigners was a pretty solid thing for these people; whether or not it still holds is up in the air.)

Because supernaturals are "public," if you will, there had to be some manipulation of history in order to account for it all. It's actually quite genius, the way that things are perfectly accounted for and addressed. I wasn't even expecting such interesting developments. Also, there is an overseeing organization called BUR--an acronym I've unfortunately forgotten at the moment, and my novel is across the room, and I'm naked and in bed, so I'm not getting it to tell you. Suck it--headed by one Lord Maccon, the 20-years new Alpha of the Woolsey pack.

Alexia is particularly bold and educated in the sciences, etc. Her father is dead and has been for quite awhile, and her mother remarried a proper Brit and had two more daughters--and I'll be the first to tell you that Alexia's entire immediate family is a group of bloody twits.

Anyway. The plot of this novel is that roves (independent vampires not connected to a Hive--as opposed to a coven) are going missing, and new, uneducated vampires are randomly showing up. Not only that, but Alexia's being targeted and followed and such. Drama and hilarity ensue, and untoward romance sparks between Alexia--considered a spinster at age 26--and Lord Maccon, which is also bloody hilarious, I should mention.

The remainder of the plot and such is certainly worth discussion, but I'm not going to thrill you with it because it simply won't do to elaborate on the entire plot, now, will it? What would be the point in ruining it? Regardless, it's definitely worth a read.

The Midnight Mayor: Kate Griffin (Matthew Swift Chronicles, Book 2)

Author’s note: Written prior to 2014, this writing style is no longer indicative of my modus operandi, but I stand by the gist of my points herein.

The Midnight Mayor by Kate Griffin

And so it continues.

Surprise! Swift survived the first novel. It got a bit hairy back there what with all the fighting and the murderous intentions. Secret societies, organizations pitted against magic (for "religious reasons"), psychotic colleagues, etc.

This novel opens just as abruptly as the last one did.

Matthew answers a public phone (because he will always answer the phone when it rings; it's part of who he is) and is blasted back down the street. And now he's being attacked by spectres, which are particularly rare for London. All I'll tell you is that the tools for their demise include beer and a cigarette. Happy imaginings. =]

Let me give you a visual of a spectre:

You've ever been strolling around a city and you see that kid shuffling along in a hoodie with the hood up and headphones going in, bobbing along to a beat that only they can hear? Now imagine said kid without a face. Just a gaseous space holding clothes in the proper shape. Now you've got a spectre--but you can hear their beats, and not all spectres bob to the same rhythm.

It's been said that, should the Ravens ever leave the Tower of London, should the Stone ever break, should the Wall be defaced, the city of London shall be damned. The Midnight Mayor's job is to protect the city--provided the Midnight Mayor actually exists, since Swift seems terribly skeptical--but if the city requires a protector, clearly there are things it requires protection from. Correct?

I am sure you have already deduced a few things with the help of the above paragraph coupled with the title. Namely, that the Midnight Mayor has died, that the position has been transferred to Matthew Swift, and that the city is in pretty deep shit.

Suddenly, the phrase "GIVE ME BACK MY HAT" is graffitti'ed across the city, written on the London Wall, on the wall where the Ravens were killed, on the window of the business housing the broken Stone--everywhere. Significant? You bet your ass.

Griffin does such a marvelous job creating suspense and then systematically untying knots which tie more knots until finally the whole thing comes undone at the end. You can't help but be drawn in, be captivated by her vivid imagery and intense, peculiar descriptions of things. She uses such unexpected language that catches you off guard but gives you a perfectly exact picture of what it is you're looking at and it's amazing. She has swiftly (hahahaha) become one of my very favorite and most inspiring authors--and it only took two novels. (One, actually, but we'll say two.)

Happy reading!

A Madness of Angels: Kate Griffin (Matthew Swift Chronicles, Book 1)

Author’s note: Written prior to 2014, this writing style is no longer indicative of my modus operandi, but I stand by the gist of my points herein.

And so it begins.

Matthew Swift is a sorcerer in London, but it is immediately apparent that he is more than that. He has been resurrected after having been dead for approximately two years.

Before the night is out, Matthew is attacked by a "litterbug" (a summoned monster composed of, you guessed it, garbage. Which, for the record, he defeats with a dustbin. Not to ruin it. It's a marvelous scene.

Newly resurrected, Swift's sole missions are to (a) find his murderer and return the favor, and (b) find who resurrected him, find out why, and then, quite likely, kill them as well.

So the novel progresses and you learn more and more peculiar things about this Swift, but things are still left unsaid, left in the dark and unexplained, leaving an air of mystery and suspense until finally the truth is spilled--but not all of it. Only one set of truths. As the book progresses, truths are revealed in clusters until finally the book ends and the final shoe finally drops. The perpetual mystery and vague confusion coupled with the peculiarity of the narrative--due to the intrinsic peculiarity of the narrator--are large parts of what keep the novel moving at the Andantino cum Accelerando (a little faster than "a walking pace" but steadily speeding up) tempo that it does.

 The prose is marvelous and intriguing; Griffin doesn't write in chapters. Sections are broken up with white space or " * * * "; larger sections are broken up as "Part One: [Title]", "The First Interlude: [Title]". It's fascinating. And I totally love it. But there's also a number of places where the writing totally breaks into stream of consciousness style, which is also terribly moving in-context. (Also because I know things you don't. hahaha.) It can catch you off-guard if you allow it to, but if you just get lost in the text as you're reading, it just works right into the story. Some of the paragraphs are these great, barely-connected run-on sentences (one or two sentences total in the paragraph) and it's magnetic. It really keeps you moving through the material because it's different in that it's a frequent change in prose style, which catches your attention even when you aren't conscious of it.

Happy reading!