Lisl Announces: The Review's March 2015 Book of the Month Award

Lisl is so very proud to 

announce the winner for 

The Review's March 2015 

Book of the Month Award:  

A Rip in the Veil 

by Anna Belfrage

Recipient of the B.R.A.G. Medallion

See below to learn how you could win one of TWO FREE COPIES we are gifting!

Previously having read and enjoyed The Prodigal Son, third in The Graham Saga series, I approached this first book with assurance and excitement. It is, after all, where the adventures begin, where the rip in the veil dividing time(s) occurs, at least in the case of Alex Lind. From my reading of that third in the series I knew she’d gone tail spinning through time back to the 17^th century following a freak thunderstorm, though further details, of course, remained unknown to me. Reading the opening sentences of the first in the series, I was very aware of my transition into the beginning, and that enticingly soon these details would be revealed. I am quite sure anyone who has ever read Belfrage’s Saga out of order—which can be done—will understand.

Having read A Rip in the Veil for a second time it should be noted I didn’t like the book as I did before. I have grown since that reading, come to new awareness and made changes in my own life. I am different to that person who read the book last time. Through all that, I came out at the end of my second go-round with this result: I love it at least ten times more. Some of this could be attributed to a greater understanding I have towards the foreshadowing I hadn’t noticed the first time around. It could also be said that having gone on to read—since The Prodigal Son—the rest of the series save its final installation, my affection for the characters has grown. All this would be accurate and surely contributes to my ongoing admiration for Anna Belfrage’s first in her timeslip series. 

However, her strength as a novelist carries through more than in the ability to create strong characters with enduring appeal—an accomplishment in of itself not to be to sniffed at. Her words flow off the pages with the sort of enchantment that allows readers to recognize their beauty and rhythm, but also veils the utilitarian duties they pull on the side. 

Further, true to the nature of a splendidly written book, one finds something else to adore they might not have taken in at first. In this instance one example would be phrases that capture our attention from where we stand now, not unlike the sun hitting stained glass at just the right angle or time of day. “The bright turmoil of oils,” for example, engages the imagination as it interweaves contemplation of an artist and her emotions; they unify in the moment and stir the sensations. There also is the author’s subtle sense of invitation into the story. We may share an understanding with a select character, or the author might slightly pierce the boundary between events as they occur and the observer holding the book, by acknowledging the observation. 

“Jeans; everyone wears them where I come from.”

“Djeens,” he repeated, “well, you must be from very far away.”

“You could say that again," she mumbled, hunching together.

and

[F]or an instant Alex thought she could see shame in his eyes. For an instant, mind you, and then his face hardened.

As Belfrage gets her tale going, readers also recognize what Alex herself does not, and her responses artfully contribute to the flow and continuity of the story as the author inserts detail clues for readers’ benefit; we learn ancillary information without being instructed, and the technique is used throughout the book, sparingly and subtly, also economically lending insight into players’ personalities.

The most apparent location these hints appear would be in dialogue, which also informs readers of how much each character knows about various events. In this way and others, Belfrage weaves a complex story, pleasurable and fascinating to follow—and I do mean fascinating: there were a number of occasions that gave me pause as I stopped to consider implications, how something could work, what might it mean in reality, and so on. The author’s prose lends credence to such a possibility, too: described with verbiage so on target and believable, responses and consequences so plausible, not an extra or out-of-place word, it becomes real as readers as well are drawn into the vortex with Alex, mysteriously and frighteningly into another time and, really, another place.

“Are you alright?” Matthew asked Alex.

“Yes,” she said shakily.

“Do you know him?” He cocked his head at the groaning shape.

“No.”

“Yes you do!” Two penetrating eyes fixed on her.

Alex shook her head, taking in a battered face, a dirty flannel shirt and jeans that seemed to have burnt off at calf length. He looked awful. The skin on what she could see of his legs was blistered and raw, made even worse by a large flesh wound. But he was here, an undoubtedly modern man. . . One person dropping through a time hole she could, with a gigantic stretch of mind, contemplate. Two doing it at the same time was so improbable as to be risable[. . . .]

[The man’s] eyes stuck on Matthew. . . . His eyes widened, his mouth fell open, he cleared his throat and gawked some more, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a cork.

“Where the hell am I?” he said. “Where have I ended up?”

Indeed, sense of place is a strong element in Alex’s story and we see some overlap in time, eliciting more questions that contribute to an urgent sense of need-to-know. I also longed to learn how those Alex leaves behind react; here, Belfrage does not disappoint. Initially alternating with some frequency between her new/old world and the time she has left behind, gradually the narrative settles into Alex’s story within her current surroundings, only periodically bringing readers back to those seeking answers as to her whereabouts. This reflects Alex’s perspective of the experience, as she begins to make a life, her life, in this strange place she has landed. Like Alex, we acclimate to life without frequent news and knowing of her family. 

Perhaps the most significant element Belfrage employs throughout the book, this literary reflection of a character’s reality does extra duty as it is simultaneously employed with temporal distortion—texting her father from 1658, muttered comments Alex has to explain away—and a spot of pastiche, whereby her 21^st century words, ways, songs, clothing names (e.g. djeens) are imported backwards in time. Alex herself often brings this distortion to readers’ attention with her questioning of her new world (which is actually old) and how she could be there, given that at this time, she has not yet been born. Nor have any of her family, so how could they be searching for her? What may be the most satisfying yet, and perhaps a little surprising, is Belfrage’s manner of writing about timeslip—writing mostly in the destination era being the largest contributor to the sense of surprise—utilizing postmodern technique to do it. Moreover, her interweaving of the various strategies is absolutely seamless.

Through the book, we get hints of Alex’s history awareness as she periodically betrays, to readers only, her knowledge of what is to come in this historical era. The temptation for an author to lean on this type of understanding must be great; fortunately for readers and characters alike, Belfrage does not rely on it. In fact, she shies away from it in most instances, as Alex determinedly seeks to make her way in this era with more natural supports—and, of course, to avoid accusations of witchcraft. When readers may expect some historical event to be referenced, Alex moves on; she has learned quickly.

As Alex learns what she needs to in order to survive—including about Matthew’s vengeful younger brother Luke, and the wife once paired with Matthew himself—she also begins to see much in Matthew, joining forces with him to live a life of integrity in the face of religious persecution and inconceivable human cruelty. Alex sees this very quickly after they meet each other, during their journey back to his home, and through their time living there. She also captures the attention of someone who believes there is more to her than she tells, bonding with her and others as she makes her way through newcomer status and the daunting awareness of not knowing what she is doing, including in the presence of those who wish her ill.

Matthew has an ally in Simon, his brother-in-law and attorney, who protects his interests and indeed, his life, counseling the newlyweds in ways small and large. In a sense, as Matthew and Alex get to know each other, their story is timeless—two people with a bond who must learn to integrate their beings into a cohesive and workable whole. On top of their own challenges, ordinary and unique, the pair must also deal with the threats that remain, for despite Matthew having made it home, Luke’s anger has not subsided, and it menaces Matthew and those he loves at every turn. The Grahams do not claim victory over every challenge, and sometimes must learn to compensate, including with each other.

“I didn’t like the ‘obey’ part,” Alex grumbled as they walked back to Simon’s office [following their wedding]. “I mean the love and to hold and all that, fine. But to obey? It makes me feel like a dog. . . . Why should I obey you?”

“Because I’m your husband,” Matthew explained with exaggerated patience. “And you’re but a mindless wife.”

Will they always be so lucky? How do they keep Luke’s hatred at bay and can they continue? What of Alex’s strange circumstances? She was brought here against her will; what if the forces that carried her here reverse themselves? Can she ever go back? How can she stay under the conditions she will be required to live? These are just a few of the top questions that will arise from readers, who certainly will reach eagerly for the next book for answers as well as more of the Grahams, for while the book’s technical brilliance impresses the intellect, its soul captures the heart and imagination.

It is understood that certain factors affect any given reading, including order of books read. Did my awareness of Alex’s future, so to speak, with Matthew affect my perspective of the first in the series? Undoubtedly. Would I have enjoyed it as much had I not read the third book first? The only truthful answer I can give is that I do not know, though I am certain I still would be clamoring for the rest, as I had been. It has not escaped me, however, that like Alex, I myself have done a bit of time travelling by learning of a future portion of her life in the 17^th century before being brought to the first part of her time there. While many of my questions arising from the third are answered in the first, the readings of both remain magnificent. When first I published this review in its original form, I had added, “and I will not be satisfied until I have read them all—and even then I may still want more.”

I assure you, even after having now read them all (except the most recent), I very much still want more. I will be reading this book again and again with the knowledge that Belfrage has created the Grahams and a tale vigorous enough to journey with us through time and all of our own changes.

Anna Belfrage is so graciously offering TWO FREE COPIES of A Rip in the Veil for two lucky winners. To get your name in the draw, simply comment below OR at this review's Facebook thread located here.  

It's that simple to win of two free copies we have to gift!

Anna Belfrage can be found on Amazon, Twitter, Facebook, on her website and at her fantabulous blog, where you can learn much more about the author, her projects, the Grahams and her own world.

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Note: This entry has been updated to fix the link to the review for The Prodigal Son.

The Best of The Review: Favorite Posts From the First Half Year (Volume VIII)

Sons of the Wolf~~Paula Lofting

It was truly so difficult to choose two--just two!!--entries for our favorite blog posts; there really were so many I loved--from books I liked the sound of and wanted to read, to reviews of works I might not otherwise have given a second look, but was drawn in by the reviewers' ability to get me to see new possibilities. In the end I decided to go with the ones that came to mind most fluidly and frequently when trying to decide on which constituted my favorites.

To that end I went first for Linda's review of Sons of the Wolf. I already had a close bond with this book, oddly enough one that before I read feared I would not enjoy. This pre-Conquest era is not one I remember much of from school and I was, I admit, a bit intimidated. In the end I not only loved the novel but grew to care about the characters and, as Linda writes, "Thankfully there is a sequel coming." I also loved Linda's descriptive review which also succinctly guides readers through the "how it came to be," and she does a fantastic job of it.

There is a village in pre-Norman Sussex called  Horstede which  has been invaded by a time traveler, or so it seems. I am tempted to speculate that not  even a member of Regia Anglorum like author Paula Lofting could create a story like Sons of the Wolf unless she had lived among them.  I suspect that in spirit, indeed she has.  Her novel  is the product of a writer who not only loves her subject and knows it well, but also knows her craft.  As I read the opening pages, I can smell the woodsmoke and feel the warmth of the greetings of the villagers as protagonist Wulfhere and his right hand man Esegar return from a bloodly battle as the opening curtain rises.  I remain a captive of the story until its final page, and best of all, beyond. Thankfully there is a sequel coming.

Any meticulously researched and authentically presented historical  novel set in a well known milieu faces the risk that devotion to historical truth  may become its own spoiler. Such is not the case with Sons of the Wolf. To avoid the common pitfall,  Lofting has masterfully selected two characters from the pages of Doomsday Book about whom little is known. The only references is to their names –Wulfhere and Helghi—and the amount of land they owned. Their respective societal ranks can be guessed from a notation as to the size of their respective estates. The balance is  Lofting’s creation.

Wulfhere is the thegn of Horstede and Helghi’s superior in rank. Helghi also  is a landowner but a tier below his rival. Their families have been fueding for years, and the conflict brings out the worst of each. Their  abiding hatred forges their destiny and contaminates others. Wulfhere is a  good man who seeks to do the right thing, but he does not always like it. Helghi is the consummate villain,  obsessed with bringing Wulfhere to his knees, and willingly sacrifices the future and the well-being of his family to do so.

When the historical character Harold Godwinson, Earl of Wessex and brother-in-law of King Edward seeks to reconcile Wulfhere and Helghi, he sets events in motion that make matters worse.
After I read the initial four chapters of the book I put it down, not because I did not like it, but because I was utterly unfamiliar with its historical context.  My intense study of British history is framed by the  Plantegenets on one end and the Marlboros on the other. What I knew of the Norman invasion could be  summarized in a  line  from the 1953 movie Young Bess.  Says adolescent  Elizabeth, "England has never been invaded, except by the Normans, who do not count because they were us."  What I knew of Anglo Saxon Britain would have scarcely filled a journal page. I  profited from  spending  a few minutes on Wikipedea,  and once I had a better understanding of what transpired in Britain in the years immediately prior to 1066, I was ready for a breathtaking, violent, fast and furious and often heart-rending ride through the years before the Normans came.

Click to continue reading…

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The Witch Finder~~Blythe Gifford

Here Louise also snares me with her ability to capture the intrigue of a book, and I was interested in the topic as well. She takes us to a dangerous time and points to the author's skillful use of privileged position and dramatic words to draw us into the events and follow the players as they make their way through their own world. This book is the very next on my to-be-read list and I plan to reward myself with it at the end of the month when I make several deadlines. Books make fantastic rewards!!

“It’s October 1661, Scotland, the Borders – Hoofbeats woke her, sending her heart tripping fast as the horse, even without knowing who rode. Nothing good rode at night.”

These are the opening lines to a story that will take you into the realms of the witch finder.

The horrors of not being able to make someone believe that you are innocent, when those around you see you as guilty. Blythe Gifford cleverly draws the reader into the story, pitting the searcher against the searched.

The opening lines of a book, for me, are very important. They have to set the scene, hook me in, and make me want to turn the page. Blythe Gifford’s The Witch Finder does that for me. It is not a book that I would instinctively choose, but the cover intrigued me. First of all it has a teaser – “He’s a haunted man. She’s a hunted woman.” The title of the book overlays the picture in a bright yellow font that catches the eye; encouraging the reader to view the picture that sits behind it; a woman cloaked in black. So, being naturally curious, I had to read it. 

Margaret is our protagonist, hiding her mother who has been sent mad through interrogation in Edinburgh by the witch finder called Scobie.  They are living in a small, remote, barely furnished cottage out along the road from the village of Kirktoun. Here she could keep her mother safe and away from prying eyes and questions. Blythe has the reader feeling sympathetic towards both Margaret and her mother from the outset. We feel her panic as the witch pricker comes riding past her home. Will Margaret’s mother be found? Will Margaret be accused of being a witch? Nail-biting moments carry the reader page by page. We are taken into the realms of interrogation, and the bitter futility of declaring innocence.

Click to continue reading...

Red Shift by Alan Garner: Simon Stirling pays tribute to a long-time favorite

You'll often hear me say that I don't read very much fiction.  And, even when I do, I tend to avoid fantasy fiction.  To which I might add that I hardly ever read fiction aimed at a younger audience.

So here's where I demonstrate my inconsistency by recommending the works of an English author who rose to fame writing fantasy fiction for children and young adults.  But we're talking favourites, here, and Alan Garner is the author I've learnt more from - as a writer myself - than any other.

I came across his short novel, Red Shift, when I was about twelve and on holiday.  I was already familiar with his previous books - The Weirdstone of Brisingamen, The Moon of Gomrath, Elidor, The Owl Service - and so I thought I knew what I was letting myself in for.

I was only few pages into Red Shift when I gave up; I had no idea what was going on.  The book was like shifting sands and I couldn't make head or tail of it.

A few years later, in my mid-teens, I gave it another go.  And since then, it has unquestionably been my favourite book, my favourite piece of writing and - in many ways - the standard to which I aspire.  I even had an exchange of letters with Mr Garner, when I was something like seventeen, in which I begged the right to adapt his book into a screenplay.

Alan Garner tends to write about the landscape he knows best - his local part of the world in Cheshire, England.  His first two novels (Weirdstone and Gomrath) are set in those parts, and his genius is to turn familiar places into places of marvel and mystery and adventure.  So one of the first lessons I learnt from him is the importance of location: where something happens dictates, to a large extent, what happens.

Red Shift takes Garner's fascination with place to a new level.  The novel (and it's a very short one) follows three stories which all happen in the same places, but at different times.  So we start with Tom and Jan, teenage lovers in the second half of the 20th century; then we're suddenly plunged into 2nd-century Britain, with a detachment of soldiers on the run from the Roman army through tribal territory; and then we find ourselves in the 17th century, with a frightened village awaiting the arrival of hostile troops.  There are no chapters, just short breaks in the text which signal a shift from one time to another.  The stories play themselves out in counterpoint to each other, all occupying the same space but a different time.  The effect is like superimposition, or the strange feeling that a particular location would yield different accounts of its past if you could only 'tune in' to that period.

After the weird and wonderful creatures, the magic, witchcraft and high adventure of his earlier novels, Red Shift came as a profound shock to me; it was as if Garner had grown up with his audience and was now writing, not for kids, but for young adults.  Very intelligent young adults.  Young adults who were crashing into all the problems of their age-group.  In fairness, Garner had anticipated some of this in The Owl Service, a wonderfully spooky novel in which a Welsh myth plays on in a Welsh valley, affecting generation after generation and inducing sexual jealousies and class tensions.  It is a tribute to Garner's skill (I feel) that the older you are, the more aware you become of these undercurrents in novels which are, ostensibly, aimed at a younger readership.

With Red Shift, the undercurrents of The Owl Service burst out in an explosive mix of physical and emotional violence. Again, this is something I might not have been fully aware of when I first read through the book.  I've read it many times, and on each occasion some aspect of the novel stands out - the pain of teenage courtship, the true nature of violence, the way the past occupies the same spaces as we do, the lyricism of brilliant dialogue - but the simple fact is that Garner perfected his technique with his short, strange, disturbing novel.

It is almost entirely written in dialogue - snappy, crackly, dialogue from three different periods - with the barest minimum of description (Lesson Two: sketch, don't paint, the scenery).  There is violence a-plenty in the book - which I hadn't really expected when I first picked it up - but each act of violence just happens; there is no lingering over the deed, so that there is nothing pornographic about the brutality.  Indeed, I learnt from this book that a far more intriguing effect can be achieved if you establish an atmosphere of violence than if you obsessively describe each horrific act.  The same applies to sex.  Let the reader's imagination do the work for you.  Lesson Three: don't be indulgent.

Already, I feel as though I'm misrepresenting the book.  Yes, each of its three overlapping, interlocking stories is violent, with the sexual frustration and jealousy of the 'contemporary' story finding its echoes in the past, but Garner is far too clever to fob us off with anything so simple.  The book is also something of a puzzle, and at times the intelligence of the author challenges the reader to keep up.  Puzzles and mysteries form a major part of the narrative (there is even a word puzzle at the end which I have never yet managed to solve - but then, Garner enjoyed putting magical incantations into his earlier books, and the puzzles of Red Shift are a natural progression).  Even the title is a bit of a puzzle: it takes in the Doppler Effect in astronomy, the habit worn by a clergyman, a petticoat dyed with alder, the lights of the cars which whizz past on the M6 motorway ...

But what Red Shift taught me, more than anything, is the power of words.  Words used with laser precision, nothing spare or redundant or unnecessary.  Words mean a lot to Alan Garner.  They do to me, too.  And Red Shift indicates to me what can be achieved when an author masters those tricky little blighters, words.  The effect is magical, emotional, exciting, painful.  Pictures play in our heads, and we feel the pain and despair and confusion of the characters.  Life acquires a poetry, even in its darkest, basest moments, and that poetry sings out across time.  If we can learn how to listen to it, we can hear the voices of the past - the past which we ourselves are part of, for we tread the same turf and are made of the same atoms - and the place where we stand will come alive.


Simon Stirling is the author of Who Killed William Shakespeare? The Murder, the Motive, the Means and The King Arthur Conspiracy: How a Scottish Prince Became a Mythical Hero, both also available at Amazon UK. He can be found at his blog Art and Will.

If you would like Simon to review your book, please see our submissions tab above. 

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