Robert Reviews: TimeStorm

TimeStorm

by Steve Harrison

Reviewed by Robert Southworth

Author Steve Harrison has so kindly offered a FREE PAPERBACK COPY of TimeStorm to one lucky reader. Please see below for your chance to win!
Drawing July 30, 2015

This drawing has been held and a winner announced at Facebook.

Please see new reviews for more chances!

We have a giveaway with every review!

TimeStorm is a recipient of
the Highly Commended
category in the Fellowship
of Australian Writers (FAW)
National Literary Awards,
Jim Hamilton Award

TimeStorm begins briefly in the modern day and centres upon a sixteen-year-old boy called William. Then, quite abruptly and with no small skill on behalf of the author, it throws you back a few centuries to 1796, aboard a ship in the Tasman Sea. As the novel moves forward, weather-beaten sailors and hardened convicts alike are transported into the future. To use author Steve Harrison's own words:

TimeStorm is a thrilling epic adventure story of revenge, survival and honour set in a strange new world of unfamiliar technology and equally unfathomable social norms. In the literary footsteps of Hornblower comes Lieutenant Christopher 'Kit' Blaney, an old-fashioned hero, a man of honour, duty and principle, dragged into the 21st century… literally.

Firstly, I would like to mention that TimeStorm is not in any way the type of novel I would usually read. I was so far out of my comfort zone it was like looking for my arm chair from the moon. That said, I believe it is important as both reader and author to experience tales of all types as they give us new perspective in what we can demand from books, and also spur on creative thinking in our own works.  So with a mixture of trepidation and excitement I began. Any fears that I may have had were soon dispelled with the first few pages. The author shows great skill in presenting a picture of modern life, the humdrum existence of a young man with too much time on his hands. As a reader you just begin to settle into the pace of young William’s life and suddenly you are picked up and thrown bodily onto the creaking timbers of a convict ship over two hundred years in the past.

The book moves at a fine pace, keeping you turning the pages with a sense of anticipation. This is helped along the way not only with an intriguing storyline but also the well-developed characters. It is true that some have been sculptured more than others, but all are believable and add to the novel's integrity. I can’t think of one character who is mere window dressing. It’s at this point I must mention Blaney, an officer aboard the ship. I loved this character, and in the blurb he is described as a heroic figure similar to the likes of Hornblower. I could not agree more; heroic and honourable are cut from the same cloth as C. S. Forester’s most notable hero and Cornwell’s Sharpe.

Worth mentioning is the descriptive writing around life aboard the ship. I have very limited knowledge around nautical life in the 18^th century, so it was important to me as a reader that the author created an atmosphere that ensured a sense and feeling of the craft and crew in this era. He delivers this skilfully without interrupting the story with too many mundane inner workings of a ship. Coupled with how those characters react to being torn from their native time to a world that differs from theirs in almost every way makes for a very exhilarating read. I believe that Mr. Harrison the author fused his characters together well; they interacted in a way that was true to the era and to them as individuals.  Of course the book has its serious moments but the author has managed to interject snippets of humour that helped the novel in its entirety.

Karen sighed. She had not anticipated a language barrier. ‘I suppose you must be a foreigner.’

A shadow came across the man’s face and his body stiffened. Karen shivered, sensing for the first time an element of danger in the man. He sat up straight and turned to her coldly. ‘Good Lord, no, madam,’ he said crisply, ‘I am an Englishman!’

TimeStorm is written in a format I have not encountered before, and differs from the traditional chapter numbers or headings. Instead each is labelled with a character's name and the segments alternate between them; the start of main sections also include dates.

When I have summarized books in the past I have had a reference point: a place where I thought the book would begin and take me on a journey and I would give my opinion on that journey. This book in many ways has been more remarkable as I never had a starting point, because the novel is so far removed from my usual reading material. It is like getting on a mystery bus tour, where the driver not only has no clue where they are going, but is also blindfolded. All I can say is that I felt the novel was entertaining and well written, with diverse and interesting characters. The fact that time travel is involved is neither here or there, because the skill in which the author has written about the individuals and the trials they face is of such a high quality, that it is on them the reader concentrates. If I had to give the book a rating, I would not have any qualms about placing a more than healthy four stars next to the title.

For your chance to win a FREE PAPERBACK COPY of TimeStorm, simply comment below OR at this review's Facebook thread, located here. 

About the Author:

Steve Harrison was born in Yorkshire, England, grew up in Lancashire, migrated to New Zealand and eventually settled in Sydney, Australia, where he lives with his wife and daughter. As he juggled careers in shipping, insurance, online gardening and the postal service, Steve wrote short stories, sports articles and a long running newspaper humour column. In recent years he has written a number of unproduced feature screenplays (although being unproduced was not the intention) and developed projects with film producers in the US and UK. 
 
His script, Sox, was nominated for an Australian Writers’ Guild ‘Awgie’ Award and he has written and produced three short films under his Pronunciation Fillums partnership. Prior to publication, his novel TimeStorm was Highly Commended in the Fellowship of Australian Writers (FAW) National Literary Awards, Jim Hamilton Award, in the fantasy/science fiction category, for an unpublished novel of sustained quality and distinction by an Australian author.

You can learn more about Steve Harrison and his work at his blog (which also includes the fascinating story behind TimeStorm), his super fun Facebook page and Twitter. You may also purchase TimeStorm at Amazon, Amazon UK and the Elsewhere Press TimeStorm page.

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Robert Southworth, a big time Aston Villa fan, is the author of Wrath of the Furies and three books of the Spartacus series, and can be found on his Amazon author page and Twitter. He is currently at work on his new Ripper series, and you can purchase his books at Amazon and Amazon UK. 

Guest Post: Anna Belfrage and Alex Graham

To read Lisl's review of Anna Belfrage's Book of the Month Award-winning novel A Rip in the Veil, click here.

Lose some, win some - Alex Graham and Anna discuss the consequences of slipping through time

There was something dejected about Alex that autumn day. She came walking without her normal bounce, eyes turned inward, and I scooted to the side, patting at the stone beside me in invitation.

Alex sighed – deeply.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, running recent events through my head. As far as I could make out, she and Matthew were as happy as always, both of them lit up from within in each other’s presence. I pursed my mouth; at times, I worried that I’d made them too dependent on each other, thereby making them devastatingly vulnerable to the other’s absence. Should anything happen to either of them…My thoughts drifted away, and the outline of book number two in the series took shape, making my stomach knot itself in protest. Could I really put them through that much pain? So many horrors?

Yet another sigh from Alex returned me to the present – well, the present in the sense that here I was, having a therapeutic conversation with my make-believe (but oh, so real) protagonist of The Graham Saga. And before you all roll your eyes at me, muttering depreciating comments about batty writers, let me state that I firmly believe all writers develop strong relationships with their characters. It’s just that some prefer not to shout this to the world at large…

“Honey?” I stroked her back. The russet broadcloth strained over her rounded back, Joan’s former bodice a tad too small, having been let out to fit Alex’s substantially rounder frame. Don’t get me wrong; it’s more a question of Joan being very thin. The woman shares her uncommon height with her brother Matthew, but where he is muscle and wide shoulders, a strong broad chest and long, powerful legs, Joan is thin and supple like a willow twig – and as unbreakable.

“One of those days,” Alex muttered. She extended her legs, studying her worn boots. “Sometimes…” She bit off, shaking her head.

“Yes?” I prompted.

“I miss it,” she said simply. “I miss the buzz, the sound of music spilling from a radio, the smell of sun on hot asphalt, the luxury of electricity, of hot water at the turn of a tap.” She kicked at a rock. “But that’s just stuff, right? I can do without the stuff…” She chuckled, somewhat sadly. “…well, I have to do without the stuff, don’t I? – but today I miss the people.”

“Like Magnus,” I said. Who wouldn’t miss a father like Magnus? Into this tall blond man, I’d poured all the qualities I would have liked in a parent – and some of them my real father most definitely had, but most he didn’t.

“Yeah.” Alex gave me quick look. “You miss him too, don’t you?”

“Magnus?” I shook my head. “I can find him anytime I want – I just have to open one of my manuscripts.”

“Uh-uh. That wasn’t what I meant.” Alex shoved at me. “I meant your father.”

Okay, so how had this conversation ended up being about me? But the thing is, it’s difficult to lie to your characters – after all, they’re a part of you, and so to lie to them is to lie to yourself.

“I do.” I smiled at nothing in particular. “But especially I miss that there is so little to miss, you know?”

“Like with my mother.” Alex’s mouth tightened. She disliked talking about Mercedes – and in her present 17^th century environment it made sense not to talk about a woman who painted portals through time. Being a witch in the here and now came with substantial risks.

“Maybe.” I rubbed at a spot of something greasy on her sleeve.

“Tallow,” she explained. “Those candles stink like hell.” She leaned back, face to the weak sun, and closed her eyes. “Will I ever see them again?”

“Magnus and John, you mean?”

“No, Tony Blair and Clinton,” she retorted sarcastically. “Will I?” Her voice softened, a begging quality to it.

“I don’t know.” I took a deep breath. “If I write you back, I may not be able to ensure your return to Matthew.”

Her face paled, the fingers on the stone tightening on the moss. “Why not? You’re the writer.”

“Logic.” I tugged at a stand of faded grass. “You fell through time due to a number of circumstances. Yes, you could – potentially – be dragged back the same way. But then what? You think I’ll be able to produce yet another humongous thunderstorm?”

“But her paintings!” Alex shivered, pulling the shawl closer round her shoulders. “I can use one of them, can’t I?”

“Sorry, honey. Magnus has destroyed them all.” Not quite – but not even Magnus knew he’d missed one. I leaned close enough to see her eyes. “I can write you back – of course I can. But if I do, you’ll probably never see Matthew again.”

“Never?” Her mouth wobbled. Her gaze locked on the distant house, the dark slate of the roof wet after the recent shower. The door to the kitchen opened and the household filed out, men and women in dark clothes who spoke to each other as they made their way across the yard.

“Bible class done?” I asked, knowing for a fact Alex was more than creative when it came to avoiding these – in her opinion – far too lengthy discussions about God and faith. A point of contention between her and Matthew.

“Obviously.” She fiddled with her cap, ensuring it covered her hair. “He could come with me.”

“He could. But do you think he would be happy there?” I had serious doubts about that. Matthew Graham had his roots firmly planted in the soils of his day and age. Alex considered this in silence while adjusting her shawl and collar.

“No.” She sounded dejected. “It would kill him, I think. He belongs here.” And so, per definition, do you, I thought, smiling in her direction. Not that she noticed, all her attention trained on the house.

Matthew appeared in the doorway, and beside me Alex softened, mouth curving into a smile, hitherto tense shoulders dropping an inch or so. She ate him with her eyes, this tall well-built man with dark, curling hair. As if drawn by magnets, his gaze leapt up the hillside, finding her. He raised his hand and came striding towards us – well, her. Sometimes, Matthew tended to ignore my presence.

“He’s mad at me,” she stated, watching his movements.

“Yeah, he doesn’t like it when you miss class,” I teased. I covered her hand. “So what will it be, Alex? Will you stay here, with him, or go back to John? To Magnus and Isaac?”

At the mention of her son, she started. “Isaac,” she said softly. “Is he alright?”

“He is. Between them, John and Magnus are spoiling him rotten.”

“So they’re all doing fine without me, aren’t they?” Alex stood up, brushing her apron into neatness.

“They are. Yes, they miss you, but life goes on.”

“It wouldn’t for him,” she said, looking at the man presently leaping up the slope. “And it wouldn’t for me either – not without him.”

“No,” I agreed. “It would be one long slow march towards death – for both of you.”

“I’m staying.” She was already moving away from me, to him. I watched as they met, and whatever remarks he had planned to make about her absence were forgotten when she flung her arms around his neck.

“Lass?” He wiped at her face. “Why are you weeping?”

Alex just shook her head, rising on her toes to kiss him into silence. Large hands slid round her waist and drew her close – impossibly close. He murmured her name when she released his mouth, hazel eyes wide and luminous as he looked at her.

I left them to it – at times, being a writer is uncomfortably like being a Peeping Tom. With a little wave I walked off. None of them noticed, lost in their own private little world. As it should be, I suppose. After all, I’d created them to be like that – two halves made a whole, at their strongest when together, at their weakest when apart.

Note: There are two FREE COPIES of A Rip in the Veil to gift; to enter the drawing, simply comment at Lisl's review here or the related Facebook thread located here. 

Lisl Reviews: Whither Thou Goest

Whither Thou Goest by Anna Belfrage

Book seven in The Graham Saga

Review by Lisl



Please see below for giveaway information!

People who populate today’s societies—ehem, us---have a tendency to believe our world is superior to that of the past: more conveniences, broader rights for women and minorities, better medicine. While these advantages have indeed developed, they come with trade offs and in the realization of these gains we’ve lost bits of our selves and relationships. In Whither Thou Goest, the seventh installment of Anna Belfrage’s Graham Saga, this theme comes closer to the fore as time-traveling Alex Lind and her 17th century husband, Matthew, make their way to the West Indies to rescue their unknown nephew from the horrors of indentured servitude—in reality, brutal slavery.

Matthew himself once suffered this fate and it is largely his history that decides for the Grahams they should heed the plea of Matthew’s brother Luke to rescue his son, a youngster persuaded into the Monmouth rebels now facing a terrible future as the consequence of his misguided involvement. There is no love lost between Mr. and Mrs. Graham and Luke, but they also conclude that young Charlie should not be left to such a terrible fate as a result of the animosity between his father and uncle and events not of his doing. Their decision reflects the book’s title as well as their own bond forged, a bond that, like that of Ruth and Naomi, was not “supposed” to be:

“What do we do?” she said, coming over to hug Matthew from behind. She rubbed her face up and down between his shoulder blades, feeling him relax.

“There isn’t much choice, is there?” he said. “I have to go down there and attempt to find him.”



“Wrong pronoun,” Alex told him. “It’s ‘we’, Matthew, not ‘I’.” No way did she intend to let him face the ghosts of his past alone.

“We,” he said, and twisted round in her arms to hold her close.

So they go, and readers follow along, though with the added advantage of seeing events occurring in other family members’ lives. There also are small delights throughout as readers recognize events from the Grahams’ past that led to these moments, links bringing on the awareness of Belfrage’s genius for tying it all together, and from and through such a distance as thirty years. The book’s pace is swift, but not quite as whirlwind as its predecessor, and the author engages in language realistic for the period yet also a comfortable fit for us. So comfortable it is, one never wants to take it off. The only disappointment in this series is that eventually each book comes to an end.

It is a testament to Belfrage’s prowess as a writer of historical fiction that she can manage to get so far into a complicated series of events and a seventh novel, and still maintain reader attention as raptly as in the first book. But more than that, just as history is never static, neither are people and the author brings us along as Matthew and Alex progress through the years: readers never grow out of the series, but rather the characters grow with them. 



Therein lies the ability for Alex to accept—even in many instances relish—the hand she has been dealt. A freak thunderstorm painfully threw her past where a veil customarily divides time and in meeting with Matthew Graham she recognized something so special she fought powerful forces attempting to yank her back. There definitely was a fair share of life in 1658 Scotland unfamiliar and not terribly attractive to Alex—by law and religious tradition loss of voice and stature, for one—so why did she opt to stay? While there were pros to life in 2002, her personal assessment of where she stood may have brought a realization that there, too, the voice she had was also suffocated by circumstance.

Now, in Whither Thou Goest, Matthew and Alex are engaged in welcoming 1686—they have been together for nearly thirty years. The opening passages introduce us to one of the contradictions Alex has grown with all this time: 



“The shrubs were beginning to show buds; here and there startling greens adorned the wintry ground[. . .].Winter was waning, and soon it would be brisk winds, leaves on the trees and weeks of toiling in the fields or the vegetable garden.” 



The beauty of the new life of coming spring is paired with the awareness of the backbreaking labor it brings, with only brief opportunities to savor it around an immediate need to work for survival. In Alex’s 21st century life she wouldn’t have had to do this; instead she would have faced other perils connected to food supply. The lifestyles are so different, but Alex recognizes the similarities as well, here and in many other elements, such as religion. She is content with her choice, a promise towards Matthew that “thy people shall be my people,” and Belfrage’s treatment of Alex’s attitudes towards various aspects of her life strikes a balance, much like the one Alex maintains as she adjusts and carries on.

A complex personality, Alex may differ with us on various perceptions of 2002 as well as 1658 and on, but the author gives Alex’s voice life in a way that even those most opposed could admit that she makes a good argument. 



Like Alex, Matthew is a strong enough man not only to survive, but also thrive because he is willing to grow in a similar way. While Alex certainly caught him off guard that day when they both were on the run and she literally landed at his feet, the intervening years have led him down the road he shares with her. The pair do not always agree, but he has grown secure enough to speak of Alex’s mother—the woman whose hand initiated her daughter’s passage through time—as someone deserving of compassion, even if she was a witch as he always feared she may have been. In discussing her horrific death, Matthew speaks of her dying “well,” that she forgave her tormentors not only because they needed it, but also because she did. 



There is a welcome peace about and within this installment—for reader as well as protagonists, especially given recent events in the Grahams’ lives. Not that Belfrage gives anybody too much of a break--the 1600s in Scotland as well as the Colonies, to where the Grahams have repaired, is a perilous time for all, and getting hold of Charlie is the easy part. Finding their way back to Maryland is the real challenge. Moreover, Alex comes face to face with an old nemesis only to learn painful truths about the world and her place in it. 



Nevertheless a softening shift can be felt, and Belfrage winds the threads of this aura through her narrative like a subtle breeze come to cool a painfully hot day. Acceptance occurs a lot, between Matthew and Alex as well as each of them with others, and the bond they have, one that has been growing over the years to reach this point, is tangible to another. It is significant that Belfrage has this insight coming from a relative of the Burleys, dangerous and destructive men once driven to destroy the Grahams, as she shows us again through this contradiction how life often blooms from the seeds of destruction.



“Tilting his head, he studied Matthew Graham and his wife, fascinated by how they automatically fell in step, a slight leaning towards each other. Her skirts brushed against his leg, her profile turned towards him, and she said something that made him laugh, bending his head close to hers. Her hand touched his, fingers widened and braided tight together as they continued down the dusty road.

He had never seen anything like it, never seen two bodies come together so effortlessly, so obviously halves of a perfect whole. Welded together, it seemed, and Michael stood where he was, his eyes glued thoughtfully to their backs until they dropped out of sight.”



Here as in many passages, Belfrage utilizes ordinary yet such poetic language, painting a moving picture in which readers can easily see what she describes: the tender closeness of a man taking in the words of his wife, the curl of her swinging skirts’ material, the wide, deliberate yet instinctive opening and joining of fingers as they move in time to each other’s steps. What’s more, she does this undetected: the words and rhythm are so natural it is as if they are a part of ourselves; we only understand how much these characters have “over the years” come to mean to us. Like the paintings of Mercedes, Belfrage’s draw us in and bring us to another time. 



There are, of course, no easy conclusions, and the novel ends with a few questions unanswered, a lead-in to the next—sadly the last—installment in the series. There are continued contradictions with which the Grahams find acceptance: an event Alex has painfully yearned for occurs, but at a price; Matthew helps his son build a bridge between his own two worlds; a cherished piece of his past is re-imbursed, though he may never be able to claim it; and, as in the opening passages, fragile life makes an appearance, life that will bloom, but only with perseverance. 

Whither Thou Goest, to be sure, contains scenes of heartbreak and sadness, with painful reminders for some characters of a past and connections they will never completely be able to escape. But it also is a love story of sorts, in which promises and commitments are made, solace is taken from unexpected quarters, and individuals experience awakening, a blooming of new life amidst ruins to be cleared as futures are built. It is a story only Anna Belfrage could tell of a family readers will never forget and often wish to re-visit.

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Anna Belfrage has so graciously offered a FREE COPY of Whither Thou Goest for one lucky winner. 

To get your name in the hat, simply comment below OR at the Facebook thread here.

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Anna Belfrage and more information about her wonderful Graham Saga series, as well as other works, can be found at her website. Follow her on Twitter and Facebook.