Book of the Day

The Luxe begins with the funeral of one of its protagonists, Elizabeth. The characters are introduced one by one: her best friend Penelope, her wayward sister Diana, Henry Schoonmaker, man she would have married. They are shown in their grief, with twice the pain because Elizabeth’s body could not be recovered. Then the clock rewinds a few months, to the time before Elizabeth’s fateful plunge into the river.

Life for Elizabeth, Diana, Henry, and the other members of their “set” is filled with glittery parties, Parisian dressmakers, and all of the trappings class and wealth can provide. But scratch the surface, and life is not nearly so rosy. Like a turn-of-the-century Gossip Girls episode, betrayal, backstabbing, jealousy, dishonesty, and illicit trysts abound. Emotions run high for all involved, slowly implying that Elizabeth’s death may not have been an accident.

I solved the “mystery” only a hundred or so pages into the 433 page novel. This made the last few chapters, when the plots suddenly start to thicken, slightly less intense for me, since I was rock-solid certain what was going to happen. It did not stop me from enjoying the ride, however.

While the emotions might sometimes come off as a bit histrionic, there is real feeling behind the characters loves and hatreds, with a palpable sense of being trapped by circumstances. The stifling atmosphere of the upper class is contrasted with the equally though differently stifling life of the maids who serve them. Though Lina the maid’s story is possibly the least convincing of the several subplots, even here her strong sense of injustice can at least partially explain her actions.

This book is an excellent choice for both historical fiction fans and more modern fans of series like Gossip Girl or the It list.

Babylonne is profoundly unhappy in her current situation – orphaned and living with her maternal family in an unofficial convent of Good Christians during the 13th century – but such a position is preferable to the alternatives. That is, until her malevolent aunt decides to marry her off to a dotard. For Babylonne, this is the last straw. She sneaks out of the house, without much of a plan other than to run away and join the exiled lords she grew up idolizing. Exactly what she’ll do once she gets there is unclear.

But all of her plans, tentative though they may be, are disrupted when a Catholic priest insists on dogging her steps, and all but forces her to join up with him. He claims he knew her parents, meaning that he has information Babylonne is desperate to understand, particularly since some of the priest’s announcements shake the foundation of her self-identity.

This is a companion book of sorts to Catherine Jinks’s popular series of books about Pagan Kidrouk. Babylonne is his daughter, though he never knew about her. She is feisty and spirited, though without ever straying too far into anachronism. The relationships between the characters were well done, and the historical setting was rich and, as far as I could tell, accurate. It certainly made me want to go and look up more information about the Good Christians in 13th century France.

One criticism I had of the book was the way in which the dialougue was formatted. Almost every conversation included interruptions in the speech for thoughts. I found it jarring and became increasingly annoyed by it as the book went on, rather than adjusting as I had hoped. As an example:

“Relics!” What a farce they are. “As if kissing an old toenail is going to bring you closer to God!” You’d have to be stupid to believe such a thing. “I once heard someone say….”

Sometimes it would have made more sense just to incorporate the thoughts out loud. Other times they are secret, but it would have flowed much more easily if the out loud thought was finished and then the author added “but secretly I was thinking….” or something of that sort.

Other than that one complain, however, this was a well-written book that will appeal to fans of historical fiction. There is no romance involved, and lots of bloody battle scenes, so there is even the possibility of convincing boys to read it as well.

Imagine life as one of eleven children. Now imagine it’s the 1920’s, a time when women were almost completely absent from the workplace, that your father has just died unexpectedly, and its now up to the family to somehow soldier through the tough times ahead. This is the scene set in the early chapters of Belles on Their Toes, the moving sequel to Cheaper by the Dozen.

(A side note: If you have never read Cheaper By the Dozen, and justify this with “I’ve seen the movie”, stop right now and go find a copy. The only common element is the title, everything else from names to the children’s ages was changed. The book is far funnier, and while the movie was very disrespectful to the idea of fatherhood and seemed to think that all children are brats, the book’s children idolize their larger-than-life father and, while mischievous and accident-prone, are never bratty.)

Although there were never twelve children alive at the same time (the second eldest died of typhoid at age 4), the Gilbreth family was still sizeable. (And it just goes to show that although we have a stereotype of “old fashioned” families being very large, almost everyone the family comes across is shocked at the idea of 11 children in one family.)The death of the family patriarch, then, was not only emotionally devastating, it was also a blow economically (though this is harder to really sympathize with when, as part of their economy plan they fire the cook but keep the handyman.) The family rallies with typical good cheer, however. They are soon making the best of a trying situation, with laugh-out-loud results.

The same light, breezy tone from the first book is carried through here, although there is an undertone of seriousness. There are enough children that while the older children have reached their teens and begun to head to college, there are still plenty of toddlers and younger siblings ready with a funny misunderstanding or amusing mishap. But the children are growing up, and the stories reflect that, from a hilarious account of the family triumphantly driving away the older sister’s unwanted suitor to teaching the youngest girl every nuance of college life so that she can be the hippest person in the high school. While the slang, and some of the situations, reflect the fact that the events take place nearly eighty years ago, this is still a fun read, and one that helps to show that some things stay the same.

Books about King Arthur are hardly few and far between. Entire libraries could be stocked entirely with books about Camelot, Merlin, and Arthur’s infamously ill-fated love triangle. To write a new book about the Arthur canon and expect to be given any sort of special attention, an author must either write beautifully or come at the story from a new or different angle. Phillip Reeve does both, to produce a fantastic and masterful story that will be sure to garner awards both here and in Reeve’s native Britain.

At ten years old (more or less) Gwyna is a slave girl. But she is about to embark on a major life change, as she becomes first the Lady of the Lake, then a boy, then a handmaiden to the doomed Gwenhwyfar. Gwyna’s journey begins on the night that Arthur and his war band destroy her house and all she has ever known. “Rescued” by Myrddin, a famous bard, she is immediately put to work to further his plans. Myrddin is convinced that the Saxons will soon arrive to destroy them all. The country’s only hope is to unite as one kingdom, rather than dozens of tiny areas ruled by war bands and jealous kings. Myrddin has decided that the only person capable of leading is Arthur, and to this end he will bend every truth and an embellish every tale to create a living legend, a man that other men will want to follow. If only the real Arthur were half as noble or chivalrous as the man Myrddin wants so desperately to believe in.

The reworking of the Arthur story without any real magic – unless one can count the magic of a good tale told – is not necessarily a new idea, but here it is taken to great heights. Other major changes to the story line include the absence of Morgan Le Faye and Lancelot. While Reeve does not mention in his author’s note why he chose note to include either of these famous characters, he does frequently reference “older stories” in speaking of some of the more surprising characterizations. I’ve followed the Camelot canon long enough to know that Lancelot was a relatively late addition to the legend, added hundreds of years later in an era that glorified courtly love. I would have enjoyed a longer author’s note explaining all of the thinking behind the twists Reeve threw into the more well-known storyline.

A recurring theme throughout the book is the idea that myths and stories have their own power. A powerful idea is often stronger than the actual reality of the world. Many teens and tweens are just beginning to realize the immense power of words. Certainly the hurt of a rumor is already well-known, but using a purposefully created story for “good” may be a singular concept for many. Although much of the book is cynical, revealing the many tricks and hypocrisies of the rulers, the eventual ending is one of hope, with the implication that Gwyna has chosen not only to live her own life, but also to create her own stories.

Notes on the cover: The hand emerging from the water makes complete sense in the context of the story and its narrator. However, the clouds and general coloring are almost generically “fantasy” effects meant to signal to the reader the genre of the book. While I think that most fantasy readers will love this version, it is significant to note that it is definitely not a fantasy. Historical fiction lovers who disdain the least bit of the magical will also be enthralled.