The Dovekeepers by Alice Hoffman is a
lyrical, if heart-breaking account of the mass suicide of over 960 jews when
sieged by Roman rule.
It intertwines the lives
of four very different women who work the dovecotes, tending to the best
possibly opportunity for fertilization afforded them, as they shelter
themselves from Romans and before their discovery comes to a head. Yael, Revka,
Aziza and Shirah are at times mystical, frustrating, angry, lovely, romantic,
violent and withdrawn, all well-realized within the curtained poetry of Hoffman’s
lyrical narrative.
The sheer amount of
research that must have gone into this novel is mind-boggling. You escape inside the confines of this religiously
and mystically shrouded world and thrive there as these survivors do, swinging
up with their highs and tugged down by their lows. Sometimes their very lows:
there is a lot of barbaric violence realistic to the time and the Empire.
Ruined by a Rake: When a fatherless, friendless boy is set
before the gorgeous older granddaughter of an earl, what hope does he have?
None. Other than to keep the girl well enough engaged that she can’t possibly
ignore him even if she wanted to.”
Ruined by a Rake is a spicy and sweet novella by talented wordsmith Erin
Knightley. A friend recommended it as a free kindle download and I was besotted
by the fun, spirited regency setting populated by spinster Eleanor and her
dashing, rakish cousin Nick. Like the
tenuous dance of pas de deux, the book is at its height in the carefully
laid-out swordfights between the two, whose growing attraction is surmounted by
their rapier wit intelligence, spars and clashes of steel. It was here the chemistry was most ripe: a
careful reel of dance with perfect dialogue beats so that their story unfolded
not unlike a well-played theatrical scene.
QUOTES:
“Old and dried up at
that age of four and twenty, according to the ton. Which was ridiculous. She
was perfectly moisturized.”
“Rolling her eyes,
she put a hand against his chest, blocking his advance. Good heavens, was he
hiding a metal breastplate beneath his shirt? She gritted her teeth and blew
out a breath. “
“He angled his head,
his gaze far too observant for her peace of mind. “Shall we proceed directly to
the joyful weeping, then? I do believe your eyes are dewy already.”
“Independence is so
much worse than scandal”
“Sophisticated is
just another word for old and boring.”
“Are there very many
opportunities for mediocre female fencers?”
This is a surprisingly emotional ride, with layers dissonant
and bleak, heartfelt and painfully resonant beyond the cupcake-coloured palette
of the cover.
Cast completely with colourful eccentrics of the village
fair type, Beth Moran’s Nottinghamshire and the central campground of the novel’s
action –the Peace and Pigs” are prime for those who enjoy quirky portraits of
British life. If this were the 19th century, think Lark Rise or
Cranford. If this were a tea cozy mystery, think Midsomer. Marion’s narrative is bleak and sonorous, but
with such potential for life which she finds under the rocks and crags of
Sherwood Forest. The dialogue is pitch
perfect and there are outlandish laugh-out-loud instances with bike accidents,
chickens and full-frontal nudity. Splashed with themes of faith, redemption and
forgiveness, Marion’s story is one of a young woman who must establish her own
self worth before she is able to recognize what others—and the reader---
immediately see in her.
To add, Moran is a gorgeous writer: “On this static canvas a
million tiny dramas, a billion scenes, played out unceasingly in every corner,
under each rock and crevice. I have always been small, and here my smallness
became a good thing. I am just one life
in a world teeming with others. My
problems, my past, the questions about
my future, seemed so inconsequential --- insignificant – among all this doing.
All this being.”
“He leans back in his chair so the serving girl can set the
last course in front of him, stewed late season berries bleeding into thick
cream” (that’s such an amazing word choice)
“Oh honey, Scarlett put down a bowl of bread and was next to
her foster daughter in three strides. She wrapped herself around the Valerie-shell
and buried her face in her hair. For a long, long time they stood there,
Scarlett poured out love into that girl like sunshine onto the water.”
“ The thrill of being entirely surrounded by the forest—this
forest wrapped itself around me. I could
have been the only person alive. It was fabulous. The trees rustled and rasped
with the wisdom of a thousand year and it seemed as if every other creature
kept silence in honour of their age and beauty.
I soared through dozens of miniature spotlights, where the sun’s rays
flickered through chinks in the verdant roof above my head, illuminating the
insects in their dance shows, warming my skin with an ancient blessing.”
Soft, pastel-printed, quirky and wistfully funny, Making
Marion is soft-brushed with the first awkward hope at attraction and the slow
creaking move toward friendship by a woman unsure of how to be in her own
skin. Marion falls for a man with eyes
like twilight in a forest. You will fall
for him, too. But not before you fall for her.
I got Dovekeepers from the Library, Making Marion from Netgalley care of Lion Hudson and Ruined by a Rake I bought on amazon for kindle.
1 comment:
I used to auto-buy Alice Hoffman but I haven't in a few years. I did get this one because it sounds good. Now to find time to read it!
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