Winterset

Winterset
Candace Camp

In a Nutshell
Three years ago Anna Holcombe refused Reed Moreland’s proposal. Humiliated and rejected without explanation, he has never been able to return to the home their romance was associated with—Winterset. This changes when, years later, he experiences a vivid dream of Anna being in danger. Putting the past aside, he returns to protect the woman he will always love. Once they are reunited, passion reignites between them once more. That isn’t their only problem, however—the discovery of two dead bodies leads them to believe that previous events are repeating themselves, pulling them both into the mysterious and dark legends surrounding Winterset.

What’s right with it?
Winterset launches into action quickly, and it doesn’t stop until the last page. While it’s passed off as a historical romance, the novel is actually more of a thriller mystery. Motives and clues are unfolded with precision; like most good thrillers, you’re constantly tossed red herrings, dead ends and unlikely answers, before being hit in the face with the truth. I genuinely didn’t determine the culprit until it was revealed.

The relationship between Reed and Anna is an interesting one. It could have been the simple, run-of-the-mill boy-meets-girl type romance, but the added complication of Anna’s heritage just makes it more intriguing. The reason why she rejected his proposal so many years ago is quite a reasonable one which made me feel for the character that much more. It reminded me, in a way, of The Mayne Inheritance—she loves him too much to subject him to the poison of her gene pool.

What’s wrong with it?
Having read Camp’s other novels I found this one makes a mistake the others don’t: the language is not always consistent. At some points the language seemed to be beyond their time, something you’d find in the present, and in others, speech seemed to be right out of Jane Austin novel. Writing historical romance is tricky, but in this book the style wasn’t watched closely enough. It was either too much or too little.

Last word
Winterset is an absorbing, gothic read. Camp does a stellar job of balancing angst and passion between the two main characters, while still including enough surprises and twists to keep the story interesting and suspenseful.

Scale-of-awesomeness
Not too shabby

A Version of the Truth

A Version of the Truth
Jennifer Kaufman/Karen Mack

In a Nutshell
Nothing has really gone right for Cassie Shaw. She’s finally hit the big 3-0, she’s a widow (albeit her dead husband was a jerk of the highest regard, but the stigma still remains), and dyslexic—something that made finishing high school a non-existent reality for her. She’s broke and needs a job, but doesn’t have the credentials for one. So she tells an eensy-weensy lie on her resume. It gets her an entry-level job at a university, working for Professor William Conner, who is every bit as interesting and unique as the wildlife that Cassie loves so dearly.

She begins to explore the thought-provoking world of literature at her own pace, which opens her up to new experiences and gives her a new perspective on life. Her only problem is that the longer she maintains her job, the bigger her little lie becomes—and it’s not a matter of if so much as when this lie will be discovered.

What’s right with it?
The pages are filled with the greats of literature, paying homage to Keats, Descartes, Thoreau and Plato. The authors did a good job of integrating these thinkers and their arguments into the plot, to shape Cassie’s change of perspective. Her emotional journey—going from a woman stunted by low self-esteem, to one of esteemed thinking—is a fascinating and believable one. Interspersed throughout the novel is caustic wit that lifts the mood every now and then, and stops it from getting too heavy.

Cassie’s relationship dramas are also something every woman can relate to. She has her fair share of being burned by jerks, and being tricked into bed by that man with the smooth tongue. Despite the setbacks, however, she proceeds forward, leaving them in her dust with her head high—a good example for all women who have been in similar situations.

What’s wrong with it?
Once you finish the novel, you’re left with a lack of resolution. Due to the fact the novel reads more like a journal than anything else, it doesn’t have the much needed climax that most books contain. You’re left hanging for what is coming next, only to find that there is nothing left. The plot itself isn’t a very big or complicated one. Instead, the novel feels like an emotional, literature-filled journey of self-discovery. The problem with this is that if the reader isn’t prepared to accept this journey as a main part of the story, then they will hate it with a passion.

Last word
A Version of the Truth is one of those rare books that don’t have the feel of a traditional novel, even though it contains many elements of one. As a result, you get a very different experience from reading it—whether this experience was expected or wanted is up to the reader to decide.

Scale-of-awesomeness
Better than laundry

Some Nerve

Some Nerve
Jane Heller

In a Nutshell
Ann Roth is everything a journalist is stereotyped to be, bar one thing: she’s nice. She doesn’t fish for gossip, she doesn’t write stories based on rumours, and she doesn’t badger people for comments. It’s for this reason, however, she’s about to lose her job. Unless she can become a “killer journalist” and get an interview with the incredibly reclusive it-boy Malcom Goddard, she’ll get kicked off the staff at Famous magazine. So Ann does the only thing, really, someone can do when their head is on the chopping block—she breaks her own rules. And it almost works, too. She gets the interview, but on one condition: it must be done on a plane while Malcom is flying. Pity Ann has a phobia of flying.

Mustering up as much dignity as possible, she returns home to Missouri, jobless and depressed. But just when she’s about to give up on ever getting her job at Famous back, a miracle occurs: it just so happens that Malcom has just been booked in for surgery at the local Missouri hospital. Ann will do whatever it takes to get an interview out of him—but what will it cost her in the end?

What’s right with it?
Ann, for being so nice, is refreshingly blunt in a world where fluff and ass-kissing gets you everywhere. As a journalist-in-training myself, her desperation to get the story is something I can sympathise with—it makes her situation extremely realistic. Her family, too, is a constant source of amusement—a bunch of phobics, with fears of everything from medicine to walking outdoors.

What’s wrong with it?
While I was reading the book I got the distinct impression that Heller was trying to write a story far more serious than it actually is. The constant attempts at questioning morality and ethics are half-hearted at best, and you don’t believe them anyway. It’s clear from the very basis of the plot—volunteering at a hospital, befriending the star to get the interview—that there is nothing righteous about what Ann is trying to do, even though Heller would like us to believe otherwise. In the end, she goes just as low as she can go to get the story. Desperation calls for drastic measures, and for Ann it is to completely disregard the beliefs that so cemented her personality in the first half of the story.

Even though the story, and its outcome, has been done many times in many different ways, I found the author didn’t succeed in making any parts of it original. She obviously tried, by weaving in various sub-plots to give the story more depth, but it didn’t work—ultimately resulting in a plot that is riddled with more holes than Swiss cheese. Many of these subplots—such as the shady dealings of the hospital—are only explored a little, and then completely dropped towards the end without further mention, even those that had quite serious undertones. I got the impression they were just merely space-fillers, which in my opinion is just a waste of pages.

Last word
Even though a deeper plot was attempted, in the end Some Nerve is just a mindless, breezy chick-lit. The plot was just too convenient, even for suspended disbelief, and it gives the impression of work that is only partially finished.

Scale-of-awesomeness
Clean the house instead

Frostbite

Vampire Academy: Frostbite
Richelle Mead

In a Nutshell
In the second installment of the Vampire Academy series, things are heating up in the war between the Strigoi and Moroi. A household of royals and their guardians have been completely decimated, putting the rest of the Moroi world on edge. As a result, the students of St. Vladimir's have been sent to a heavily protected ski resort until the group of Strigoi behind the attacks have been identified.

While many of the students are considering this something of a winter vacation, Rose is once again caught up in the political struggles of the Moroi—all the while trying to figure out her own problems. As a result of the attacks, extra Guardians have been called in for reinforcement—one of them being the legendary Janine Hathaway, Rose’s no-nonsense mother. The introduction of a new character, a royal Moroi called Adrian, also throws a spanner into the works. His motives aren’t clear, but he seems to have more in common with Lissa than anyone is willing to admit. Not only that, but Rose is facing the dilemma of her relationships with the men in her life: she loves her mentor Dimitri, who seems to be showing an interest in someone else these days. Her best guy friend, Mason, is making it clear that he wants more than friendship. And this Adrian guy… his reputation is enough to send a girl running.

When a small group of Moroi and novices decide to take matters into their own hands, Rose must join up with an unlikely partner to save them. It spirals into a conclusion that causes Rose to learn the harsh realities of the war with the Strigoi first-hand, and question everything she once believed in.

What's right with it?
Mead extrapolates on many topics that were only hinted at in the first novel, which brings a more mature tone to the series. It explains political and social ties amongst the Moroi, and touches things like tradition and their potential in the war against the Strigoi. The plot moves much faster than it’s predecessor; again, the amount of events occurring, and their lack of repetition, ensures you never grow bored.

Character development is also quite obvious in this novel. The numerous events in the story begin to shape and influence Rose’s reasoning in terms of Guardians and the Moroi, as well as her relationships with the people around her. She matures emotionally, especially when confronted by her mother’s seeming indifference, and the distancing of her mentor, Dimitri, who doesn’t seem to want much to do with her anymore. Her relationship with Lissa is also tested, as things with Christian move to the next level. Mead works with the voice of Rose well—the readers can empathise with Rose through her struggles of growing up, and dealing with things beyond her maturity level.

The conclusion is a little shocking, and the outcome is unpredictable in its execution. The much-hinted-at reality of the Strigoi is finally incorporated into the story, and thankfully nothing is held back.

What’s wrong with it?
Like with the first one, with so many new characters, motives and political sub-plots, your head can spin from the inertia of it all. In particular, I wished Rose’s relationship with her mother was extrapolated upon a lot more than it was.

Last word
Frostbite is an amazing follow-up that clearly surpasses it’s predecessor. More elements of the world that Mead has created come to light, all the while narrated by Rose and her witty sarcasm. The ending brings closure, but at the same time leaves you reeling for more.

Scale-of-awesomeness
Freaking A!

The Bridal Quest

The Bridal Quest
Candace Camp

In a Nutshell
Lady Irene Wyngate is a one-woman army. After witnessing her own parent’s marriage, and the melancholy her father inflicted on the entire family, she has always sworn to anyone who will listen that she has no intention of marrying. To her, marrying a man would be just the same as signing her life over to them, for them to use as they please. Now at twenty-five and near-spinster, things still aren’t any different. She keeps the men at bay with her blunt speech and disregard for pleasantries—and it was working, quite well, until Gideon, the Earl of Radbourne, stepped into the picture.

Gideon, who was kidnapped from his family as a child, grew up in the dangerous streets of London. Even though he’s now been restored to his family, and regained his rightful title, he’s still rough around the edges—far too rough for any real lady to consider him a decent husband. He’s assigned to famous matchmaker Lady Francesca Haughston, who enlists the help of Irene, in order to pull him into line. They’re teaching him to be a proper gentleman, so he can marry and appease his new family.

Too bad that both Irene and Gideon both seem to be each other’s kryptonite. As they perform their own demented version of courting each other, circumstances surrounding Gideon’s kidnapping begin to unravel, pulling them both into a search to find the truth.

What’s right with it?
Camp has a flair for managing to mix decent plot and realistic detail from a time period with romance. With every flick of a lady’s fan, secrets are unveiled, plots thicken and reputations are damaged. She is also expert at creating the intense sexual chemistry between the two lead characters. I admire the character of Irene—even though such a woman was quite scandalous back in the day, she is a refreshing one to read about. She’s strong-willed, and her belief in marriage is actually quite understandable for the era in which the book is set, when women were married off as trophies and possessions.

The plot, though slow to get moving at the beginning, constantly expands. It allows you jump to conclusions, before quickly reeling you back in with new information that keeps you guessing. And you never quite know what is going to happen until the last few pages of the novel—quite good if you like suspense.

What’s wrong with it?
Despite being firmly entrenched in the romance category, the romantic aspect itself isn’t explored as much as it probably should have been. Irene and Gideon’s relationship is a rocky one that takes quite a lot of time to develop—more details on the development were needed in order to see the change more effectively. Even though there are a few steamy moments—and quite a big one towards the end—interspersed throughout the novel, you are constantly wishing Camp would deviate from plot and throw the readers a bone.

Last word
It is clear throughout the entire novel that Camp has done her homework—you can immerse yourself into Irene’s world without having to suspend too much disbelief. Brief but powerful moments of sexual tension is broken up by an intricate plot that has both substance and realism and keeps you guessing until the end.

Scale-of-awesomeness
Not too shabby

Fire Study

Fire Study
Maria V Snyder

In a Nutshell
Fire Study is the third installment in the Study series, which follows Yelena as she tries to both accept and learn how to use the powers she discovered in Poison Study, and tried to master in Magic Study. The new revelation that she is also a Soulfinder has set the officials of Sitia uneasy—can they trust just one person with so much power?

The book begins with Yelena discovering a previously defeated foe is back and threatening both her homeland, and the precarious truce between Sitia and Ixia. Despite the fact she is wanted dead or alive in Ixia, and is close to reaching the same status in Sitia, Yelena sets off with a few select allies to track down her old enemy, while at the same time finding a bigger, more terrifying set of enemies. As she discovers what it truly means to be a Soulfinder, Yelena must also face the issue of loyalty—can she afford to be betrayed, yet again, by someone she thought trustworthy?

What’s right with it?
In this presumed conclusion, lose ends tie up and all the old favourites from the last two books make an appearance. Ari and Janco return to taunt Yelena with their combination of brute force and badly sung rhymes, and Valek, as always, is the suave assassin that’s harder to pin down than a slug.

The mystery and action is pumped up by volumes from the last two novels, with a new enemy and a new battle practically every chapter. Characters mature, switch loyalties, meet their end, and you’re constantly kept guessing at the story’s final outcome. Yelena herself has grown since her days as a poison taster, although she does frequently reminisce the old days. Although not everything is tied up in a neat bow by the end, we still get a decent enough ending to her story.

What’s wrong with it?
While reading Fire Study, I found it difficult to pinpoint precisely why the story wasn’t working for me. Was it because it just didn’t have the same magic that I loved in Poison Study? The same emotion as Magic Study? Most likely a combination of the two. Even though I’ve been an avid follower of the novels from the very start, I just found Fire Study to be a little flat. Yelena’s reasoning for some things just seemed so beside the point I stopped caring for her after a while, especially in her dealings with Valek. For a man she professes to love so much, she manages to have an easy enough time throwing herself into situations in which she may not live to see him again. A particular moment that annoyed me was towards the end, when she seems to make a resolution to never see him again, and instead devote herself to something else without even letting anyone else in on the secret. It didn’t even seem to be a case of martyrdom, which I could have accepted—and if it was, sorry, I didn’t get the message. In fact, the characters in general seemed to have been bathed in a sea of black and white, instead of the shades of gray we had come to expect from previous novels.

In addition, the book seemed to be just a spectacular case of Same Shit, Different Setting. Sure, it was exciting at first, but once the fight-bad-guys-get-hurt-get-healed-move-on cycle has been repeated almost six or seven times, it loses its touch. To put it simply, I felt there were too many pages devoted to the plot. It could have been made much tighter, battles could have been left out, and unnecessary events could have been skipped altogether.

Last word
The Study series will always remain one of my favourites, however Fire Study was a bit of a disappointment. It wasn’t the plot, it was the execution—too much going on, and yet nothing seemed to ever happen. To give Snyder credit, however, most of the characters—old and new—still retained their lovability, rare moments of humour shone through, and it was still quite an engaging story, despite its faults.

Scale-of-awesomeness
Better than laundry

Confessions of a Shopaholic

Confessions of a Shopaholic
Sophie Kinsella

In a nutshell
Becky Bloomwood is broke. Well, she’s always broke, but this time it’s serious. She’s got letters from credit card companies coming at her left, right and centre, and a man called Derek Smeath knocking at her door. Obviously throwing the bills into the bin straight away isn’t working anymore. It’s also obvious that the journalism job she has just isn’t cutting it in the pay stakes anymore. She needs a plan. And a new outfit to go with it.

What’s right with it
The book should almost be called “Becky’s Money Adventures”, as it follows her trying—at least a little—to fix her little money problem. Sometimes the outcomes are quite amusing, sometimes they left me rolling my eyes, but the character is still relatable anyway. You cheer for her when she sorts her problems—both financial and romantic—out. Like it or not, there’s a little bit of Becky Bloomwood in us all—that inner voice that urges us to blow our pay on a really nice, really expensive pair of Manolo Blahniks, purely because they make our legs look bloody fabulous in them.

What’s wrong with it
Becky Bloomwood, actually. At times, I felt like reaching into the book and shaking some sense into her. She’s naïve and extremely irresponsible—to the point where you just want to slap her—about her finances. Things like tossing VISA bills into the garbage, or blowing a hundred pounds because you feel upset (even though you’re already about a thousand pounds in debt) are definitely not examples we need being set in the current economic climate. I know something along this tune has been said before by people better than me, and to be fair to Kinsella, the book was published some ten years ago, when recession was just a dirty word of the past, but right here and now this kind of book (and now movie) is just not needed.

Last word
Even though it’s extremely unlike its movie namesake in almost every element, it’s a fairly breezy read that leaves you contemplating the kind of materialistic world we live in—a heavy message for a seemingly simple chick-lit.

Scale-of-awesomeness
Mediocre