Tiny Library

The eNotated Alice in Wonderland is an electronic version of the story with parts highlighted. These direct you to notes that explain the text, offer context or give a theoretical viewpoint. As well as this, there are two short essays after the story that give more interpretation.This review isn't going to be about the story of Alice in Wonderland, but rather my experience with the notes themselves and how this added to my reading. Believe it or not, this is the first time I've read an annotated version of a classic and on the whole I enjoyed it. The notes that I appreciated the most where the ones that gave background context about Carroll himself and the inspiration for the story. I knew Alice was a real girl, but I didn't know she kept rabbits as pets, actually had a cat called Dinah or that the Queen of Hearts was based on her rather overbearing mother (I hope the mother herself didn't find this out!).I knew a fair bit about the Victorians before reading this, but added bits of context are always welcome. For example, I wasn't aware that families often renamed their servants, even going so far as to give a string of servants the same name so that they would only have to learn one name. Apparently, 'Mary Ann' was a popular name for a servant. Alongside these context notes, I liked the ones about Carroll's construction of the story and how this changed over time; the tea party wasn't in the original draft, meaning the Mad Hatter and March Hare were initially absent.My feelings about the notes offering critical interpretation were more mixed. I was interested to see the theories but had I been reading the story for the first time, they would have stopped me coming up with my own ideas about what the story means. For that reason, I think versions like this are best suited to those already familiar with the story. Sometimes there were a lot of notes on each page and I didn't know which ones to select. I read this on an old kindle so I don't know if this would work on colour devices, but it might be nice to somehow differentiate the context notes from the theory ones, so the reader can select just the notes they are interested in. I also think the notes best suited to an American audience as there were a few explanations of British phrases that I personally didn't need the notes for; 'leave off' and 'box her own ears' were a few examples.I do feel that I got more out of the text reading the notes alongside it. The two essays at the end were very interesting (I wish there had been more) and I feel I have more of an understanding of Carroll and why he wrote the story he did. The inclusion of many illustrations from early editions was a nice touch that made reading more pleasurable. On the whole, I'd recommend this to others, especially those already familiar with the story.

The Vampire Lestat opens in San Francisco in 1984 with Lestat realising that the journalist from the first book has published Interview with the Vampire. It's riding high in the fiction charts and humans have no idea that the 'story' inside the pages is actually true. Despite it being taboo, Lestat decides to respond by writing his own account of his life and this is what he bulk of The Vampire Lestat covers. We follow him from his aristocratic beginnings in Revolution-era France through his travels around the world as he attempts to find out why vampires exist before finally settling in New Orleans. Along the way we meet many more vampires and hear their stories as Lestat traces the source of vampirism back to Ancient Egypt. But will the vampire population allow Lestat to publish his book?The Vampire Lestat is a chunky book at 500+ pages but it reads quickly and fluently. I enjoyed it much more than I enjoyed Interview with the Vampire. One of the reasons for that is simply that Lestat is an easier character to read than Louie, he doesn't indulge in self-pity and is very impulsive, which leads to a lot more 'action'. Lestat is also curious about the world around him and other vampires, which opens the door for Rice to bring in some more stories alongside his. Although Lestat is the centerpiece of the novel he finds older vampires and they tell their story to him, meaning the book covers a wide time period and many perspectives. I appreciated this variety.There's also a lot more information about vampires in this book. We find out why vampires exist, more about the rules that govern their existence and how vampires can differ from each other. I don't know if world-building is the right world for a novel such as this, but the 'vampire theory' feels more thought-out than it did in Interview with the Vampire and it makes sense as a whole. I especially appreciated that the vampires themselves couldn't agree about how best to be a vampire and what they should/shouldn't do. This made for some interesting conflicts as the book progressed.The Vampire Lestat is pure escapism. I breezed through it and thoroughly enjoyed it. However, some parts crossed the line into silly/tacky, especially the Lestat as a twentieth century rock-star sub-plot at the very beginning and end. Having said that, I enjoyed it much more than Interview with the Vampire and would definitely read the third in the series, Queen of the Damned.

Colour is part travel, part history. Finlay has divided the book according to the rainbow and investigates how each colour was made in the time before synthetic colours. Where possible, she visits countries of traditional production and learns how to make these colours herself and also about how colour production changed societies and cultures. Finlay writes about why certain colours are given a high status (e.g. purple as the colour of royalty), compares how the same colours were made in different countries and why some became prized over others.I really enjoyed Colour. Finlay is an engaging writer who is fascinated by her subject matter and this comes across on the page. Finding out how colours were made was truly compelling as I had no idea that humans were so inventive. From sea snails to animal bones to bug blood to precious stones, there seems to be nothing colourful in nature that was not exploited for paint or dye at some time in history. I was fascinated with the complicated process of making colour, of how you go from a rock of lapis lazuli to a blue oil paint and how artists used to make their own colours and tones according to what they wanted to paint. Colour had power in history and there are plenty of accounts of countries and places become rich by making a fade-resistant paint that could be exported. Finlay does a good job of explaining how these colours then became exulted and held up by society, part of the fabric of life.Although I enjoyed the travel sections, where Finlay meets people living where colours were made in the past and discusses the legacy of colour with them, these sections took a backseat for me to the sections about actually making the paint or dye itself. I would also have liked to learn more about modern paint making, about how many of the traditional colour sources are still used, and how the transition was made from natural to artificial colours. Finlay clearly feels like something has been lost as we're forgetting the secrets of natural colours and I couldn't help but agree with her. I'd be interested to see a modern paint-making factory to investigate how different things really are (I know you can still buy some traditional colours).All in all, an absorbing and well written non-fiction book that I'm happy I picked up. I'd recommend it to anyone who enjoys travel or history, or anyone who has ever mixed their own colours using a watercolour set.

Pip is a young orphan being bought up by his sister and her husband when he encounters an escaped convict in a dark, foggy churchyard. Motivated by fear, Pip agrees to bring the convict food and help him escape, an act which weighs heavily on his conscience. Whilst still a child, Pip is sent to Satis House, the home of spinster Miss Havisham, who has remained in her wedding dress ever since being deserted by her fiance. There, Pip meets the beautiful but icy Estella and falls instantly in love, determining that the life of a blacksmith is no longer enough and that he will rise in the world to be worthy of Estella. When Pip becomes the recipient of money to 'become a gentleman' from a mysterious benefactor, he feels certain that Miss Havisham has him in mind for Estella. But is this really the case, or will Pip's past halt his great expectations?I had a bit of a fear of Dickens before reading this so I was pleasantly surprised by how much I liked this book. On the whole, it was a pleasant reading experience with the first and last thirds being the most enjoyable. The first third had the delightful gothic settings of the graveyard and Satis House and of course the first meeting with Miss Havisham, clearly the most memorable character in the book. In the last third, Pip finds out that he may have been wrong about his benefactor (I had guessed this from the start but there were some surprises in store) and the pace quickens dramatically with some great cliffhanger endings between chapters. I literally could not put the book down during the last third. Unfortunately the middle section lagged in comparison with the other two and reading about Pip's being a snobby gentleman in London became very tedious. I struggled to reach part three but was glad to have persevered once I got there.I liked that the message of the book was to be grateful for what you have, rather than always striving for more. Pip as a blacksmith's apprentice had Joe, who was nothing but kind to him, and a potential wife in the intelligent and resourceful Biddy. He should have been happy with what he had but wanted to become 'better', which caused him a lot of hardship. He became embarrassed with the unrefined manners of Joe and put himself above everyone else. Throughout the book, Dickens shows us how false the class system can be by spreading the good/moral characters across the classes and by making many of the upper class characters miserable - money doesn't buy happiness and all that. Whilst I agreed with the message, I did feel Dickens was heavy handed in moralising in some places.One thing that bothered me was how all the characters ended up being related or connected in some way by the end of the book, even the most unlikely ones. Dickens had a gift for creating memorable characters but his London really was a small world. I liked that the ending was full of twists and turns and links between the characters I hadn't guessed, but I was raising my eyebrows at the likelihood of some of them. I guess things were a bit too 'tidy' amongst the characters for my liking.On the whole, whilst Dickens hasn't become my new favourite author, I wouldn't be opposed to reading more books by him (and a good thing too, because I have another four on my classics club list!). The wordiness of the middle section got to me but this was balanced by the memorable characters and how the pace was ramped up by the end of the novel. I'm glad I gave Dickens a try.

Raami is a seven year old girl living happily with her extended family in Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia, when a revolutionary group called the Khmer Rouge uproot them from everything. Forced out of the capital, Raami and her family are moved from village to village, place to place, brutalised everywhere they go. They are separated from loved ones and forced to work all hours on massive construction projects doomed to failure. Private cooking is banned and farmers made to plant rice out of season, leading to mass starvation and disease. Fear is everywhere as the Khmer Rouge are on the hunt for enemies and Raami must hide her connections to the disposed royal family. One by one, Raami's family members succumb to death and Raami has to fight for even the smallest chance of survival in an increasingly violent world.In the Shadow of the Banyan makes grim reading at times. The author grew up in the killing fields and explains in the afterword that Raami doesn't go through anything that she herself didn't experience as a child. And there's so much suffering in this book - murder, starvation, exhaustion, disease, horror, fear, all of it is there. Ratner doesn't shy away from the darker side of Cambodian history, but puts it all there on the page and it's impossible as a reader to not feel completely horrified at the atrocities. I've read about genocides and the Chinese 'Great Leap Forward' (which the history in this book reminded me of), but it's rare to come across such a hard-hitting account of tragedy as this. Raami is so relatable that you almost feel as though you are suffering alongside her.But despite all of this, Ratner somehow manages to balance suffering with enough hope and beauty to make the story bearable. There are glimpses of people still caring for each other, of a young boy collecting snails to feed to his starving sister, of Raami's mother giving up her portion of food so Raami can stay alive, of the kindness of strangers. Cambodia itself is described in lush, colourful terms that also help to give the book some balance; the green rice paddies, bright flowers and in the beginning, the jewel coloured saris of the women and saffron robes of the monks. Even though the events of the book are horrific, you can sense the love Ratner has for Cambodia.Choosing to narrate the book through the eyes of a seven year old child was always going to be a risk and at times Raami does seem too knowing, especially concerning the relationships between adult family members and their thought processes. But on the other hand it mirrors the naivety of the reader and allows Ratner to tell the story without getting bogged down in politics, it's just a human story. Raami is forced to grow up quickly through the book and the contrast between her character in the beginning and at the end is realistic. From the beginning, I was completely invested in Raami as a character and desperate for her to find some happiness.I loved In the Shadow of the Banyan. It may cover a difficult topic but it's an important one for us as human beings and Ratner's writing is simply beautiful. Highly recommended."I had learned not to be afraid of owls or other night creatures. Animals are not like people. If you leave them alone, they won't hurt you. But people will, even if you've done no wrong. They hurt you with their guns, their words, their lies and broken promises, their sorrow."

Code Name Verity opens with a young girl in a Nazi holding camp in Occupied France. She's a captured British spy who has been tortured mercilessly for information and become a collaborator. She agrees to write down everything she knows about the British war effort in exchange for not being tortured any more. And so begins the story of Verity/Julie and her friend Maddie, a pilot, narrated by both before the end of the book. It's hard to write about the plot of Code Name Verity without spoiling it, but the narrator is unreliable and there are many twists and turns. Is Julie really a collaborator? Is she telling them everything she knows?I liked Code Name Verity. It's a solidly written book with many well-plotted twists. I spent the first part of the book perplexed as there seemed to be a big difference between what Verity was saying (I'm petrified and will do anything to stop the torture) and her character, which was still lively and unbroken. As the book went on, the reasons for this became clearer and I understood Verity/Julie a lot better. Wein just about manages to pull off the deceit in the characters that makes the twists believable. There is a lot of suffering and torture in Code Name Verity, but it wasn't hard hitting. Bad things happen to the characters and Wein tried to show the impact of that, but I never really felt it. I wanted to feel Verity's fear and pain but the way she wrote about it prevented that. Had I felt more connected to Verity, more "in her shoes", I would have enjoyed the book more than I did. I liked the plotting and trying to figure out who was telling the truth but there was always a distance in my reading experience. Essentially, the characters didn't feel 'real' for their situation; at times Verity felt like a modern teenager, not a teenager of war forced to grow up too quickly.I did enjoy the character of Maddie though. She is more straightforward and written in a relatable way. When Maddie writes of her love of flying, I wanted to be right there in the plane with her, soaring over the white cliffs of Dover. As a whole, the book was a page turner and it was one I ripped through very quickly. It was just lacking that 'oomph' and depth to turn it from a book I liked to a book I loved.

Albinia starts in Pakistan and works her way up the course of the river, meeting the people that currently live around it and also informing us of the history of the river, from the partitioning of India right back to prehistoric times. I was very excited to start this one as travel and history are two of the non-fiction genres I enjoy and I was interested to see whether Albinia could pull off a fusion of the two.For the most part, Empires of the Indus is a very successful book. Albinia clearly loves her subject matter and is very well read in terms of the history of the different peoples and nations. I must admit to enjoying the travel parts of the book more than the history parts, mainly because Albinia could speak several of the languages of the area, meaning that she could talk directly to people and present their stories. As a woman travelling through strict Muslim and Hindu areas, she also got access to women's stories that were often just as fascinating as the men's. Albinia writes about what it is like to wear a burqa, to travel through the lawless regions of Pakistan, to arrive at a place without knowing anyone at all and having nowhere to stay. She is an adventurous traveller and one of the themes of the book was how hospitable all of her hosts were, no matter where she went. Even in the "terrorist breeding grounds" of Pakistan and Afghanistan, Albinia was greeted warmly and people were always keen to welcome her to stay in their homes and share their food with her. Would that happen in the West?As I read this book, I realised how little I knew about some of the countries featured in it, especially Pakistan. I had always imagined Pakistan as a solely Muslim country. But Albinia uncovers other sides of Pakistan, for example the Sheedi, descendants of a freed African slave, that blend Islam with their own cultural traditions. I learned that perhaps I had been stereotyping some countries in the area, and that the real situation is far more complex than I had realised. I enjoyed the chapter that included a history of Sikhism as this is something I knew relatively little about.Some of the history was a little dense. I knew a bit about the general history of the area before starting this but did find it hard to keep some of the rulers and invaders straight. Although the book is roughly 300 pages long, it felt a lot longer at times as some chapters were heavy on the history and required a mental slog to get through. I became used to this as I read through the book and consequently found the later chapters 'easier' than the first.I'm going to end with my favourite passage from the book;"I press my nose against the burqa and stare out into the world. I see a young man with a pink rose tucked behind his ear sitting on a boulder, his AK47 lovingly upholstered in blue and pink stickers. I see sand-coloured fortresses, the sky cloudless blue behind them. I see graveyard after graveyard fluttering with flags of jihadi martyrs. I see a gun on every male shoulder. And I see no women at all - not grannies in burqas, not even a little girl."

Don't judge this one by the cover. It may look bright and cheerful but A Brighter Fear is a hard-hitting account of the Iraq war through the eyes of seventeen year old Lina. We first meet Lina in Baghdad in 2003, where she is living with her father in the prelude to the American-led invasion. Lina describes a culture of repression, where people are scared to even think negative thoughts about the regime, let alone express them ("a lifetime of being allowed no opinion but the right one"). Lina has experience of this threat as her lawyer mother was taken away by the secret service years ago and no one has heard anything about her since. As the bombs start to fall, Lina shelters in the basement with her Papa during the night but attempts to live a normal life throughout the day.But normal has ceased to exist. As a Christian, Lina is shunned by her former friends as it would be dangerous for them to be seen with her. Her father takes on a job interpreting for the US army, making him a target. When she continues to walk around with her hair uncovered, Lina is the victim of an acid attack. Through Lina we hear of rape, torture and see dismembered bodies abandoned by the roadside. Interspersed with all this is the story of what happened to Lina's mother, Sacha, when she was taken by the secret police, starting with horrific torture scenes.So A Brighter Fear isn't your average young adult novel. I really appreciated it's boldness at setting down what the Iraqi war must have been like to actually live through. If I had read this as a teenager, I would have found it even more shocking than I did as an adult. I also appreciated how Drewery refrained from making this a black and white novel, she showed the shades of grey involved in the conflict. Lina and her family hate Saddam due to what happened to her mother so initially they welcome the invasion. But the trigger-happy soldiers and the fact that "we all look the same to them" makes Lina reconsider. There's never any 'good guys' or 'bad guys' in the sense of the conflict and that struck me as realistic - who can be a good guy in a war situation? Drewery writes about fear very well and we see Lina's attempts to overcome her fear, something that made her relatable;"I was living a horror film with no end credits in sight. But this wasn't a film, or a dream, or a story. This was life. And I couldn't just press the off button, or wake up, or slam the pages shut. I had to live it."Despite all these positive elements, I think the 'love story' between Lina and an American soldier was a mistake. It came across as an add-on to the real story, an attempt to make the book more appealing to it's intended audience (it's even the tag-line of the novel despite it playing a minor role in the story). I get that Lina didn't have any friends, that she would cling to any escape clause from her life, but it could have been written as a friendship rather than an impossible love story. There are a few times where Lina and Steve manage to meet despite impossible circumstances, and these situations felt contrived.But overall, I was pleasantly surprised by A Brighter Fear. It was bold and direct and had a lot to say about the Iraq war without shying away from the unpleasant aspects or simplifying it. A job well done.

It's 1914 and newlywed Grace Winter is travelling to New York on board the Empress Alexandra when it begins to sink. Her husband, Henry, manages to secure a place for her on a lifeboat that is already over capacity. As the days pass and those on board the lifeboat wait to be rescued, they come to the realisation that for anyone to live, some of them will have to die. The passengers break into groups and malicious gossip starts to spread as everyone tries desperately to save themselves at the expense of others. Grace has to decide which dominant personality she will support - Hardie, a sailor, or the powerful Mrs Grant, who already has the backing of all the women on board. Grace ends up on trial for murder in New York, but did she commit the crime?I thoroughly enjoyed The Lifeboat and sped through it in just two days. It's a short, tightly paced novel where not a word is wasted. I tend to enjoy books that examine human nature in times of difficulty, so it was fascinating to see how the passengers changed as the threat to their survival increased. We may all think of ourselves as considerate and humane, but no one truly knows how they will react in a situation like this until it happens and for some of the passengers, the veneer of civilisation was stripped away completely. It became about power politics, about being in a group of passengers that could command power over everyone else. Of course, the view of humanity wasn't completely bleak, but it was the most survival-minded that lived long enough to be rescued.Rogan's writing was simple but effective. I appreciated that she dove straight into the story rather than filling the first few chapters with background about Grace. Starting with Grace in jail was a good hook, it made me want to read on to find out whether she deserved to be there or not. I also liked how Rogan made Grace an unreliable narrator; the story is set up as though you are reading her diary, but there are quite a few gaps and errors in her account that are contested by other passengers later on. If anything, I wanted to see this theme further developed - I wanted it made very clear that Grace was not to be trusted and I wanted some closure as to who exactly was telling the truth at the end.One criticism I will make of this book is that it was a bit tame. Maybe it's because I've read Jamrach's Menagerie recently, which also deals with survival after a shipwreck, but Rogan seems to shy away from what survival would actually entail. Grace complains of hunger and weakness but we never really feel the desperation and despair of the lifeboat passengers. I was expecting things to get a lot more grim than they did before the survivors were rescued. Jamrach's Menagerie was a bold, direct look at survival at all costs, The Lifeboat was more polite and more focused on the moral implications and decisions rather than the physicality of surviving. Out of the two, I preferred Jamrach's Menagerie although I still enjoyed The Lifeboat.Overall, I found The Lifeboat to be an impressive debut novel and I'll be looking out for the next book that Charlotte Rogan writes.

In the sequel to the Booker prize winning Wolf Hall, Thomas Cromwell has enabled King Henry to marry Anne Boleyn but not everything has worked out as he had hoped. Although Anne has given birth to the Princess Elizabeth, she's had many miscarriages and seems unable to bring a child to term. Worse, the English people haven't accepted Anne as rightful Queen and relations with Rome are at an all time low. When Henry spends time at Wolf Hall and notices Jane Seymour, Cromwell seizes his chance to both help the King and take revenge on those who have acted against him in the past. As he works to bring about the final days of Anne Boleyn and her courtiers, Cromwell makes new allies and seeks even greater power.I should start this review by mentioning that I was ambivalent towards Wolf Hall. I know it was loved by many bloggers but I found it a stuffy and tedious read that was hard to get through. I'm pleased to report that many things that I found difficult about Wolf Hall were not present in Bring Up The Bodies; the pacing was tighter, the pronoun use was clearer and there was more action in the story. Like Wolf Hall, one thing I admired was how Mantel has taken a well known and much written about period of history and made it fresh and relevant. There is no screen of sentimentality, it feels as though Mantel is writing about how it must have been like to actually live then, rather than just look back on it.Thomas Cromwell is a fascinating character. I admired his slyness and intelligence in Wolf Hall, but he takes it to new levels in Bring Up The Bodies. It becomes clear that this is a man who never forgets a thing, who watches all of those around him and is always poised, waiting for the right moment to strike at his enemies. This can come across as downright chilling;"Would Norris understand if he spelled it out? He needs guilty men. So he has found men who are guilty. Though perhaps not guilty as charged."Overall, there was much I admired about Bring Up The Bodies. In my opinion, it was a tighter, more successful novel than Wolf Hall. But despite admiring the characterisation and the writing, reading this book just wasn't a pleasurable experience for me. I've been thinking about it over the last few days and I can't quite put my finger on why, but reading Bring Up The Bodies was an effort. I never wanted to pick the book up and it seemed to take forever to get through it. Enjoyment is such a big part of the reading experience for me, so even though I admired the book, it fell short at this vital hurdle. I know I'm in a minority on this one, but I didn't enjoy reading it, it just didn't 'click' with me. I doubt I'll pick up the third volume in the series when it is released.

In nineteenth century Japan, the Southern clans have risen against the Northern and claimed victory. In the new capital of Toyko, reform is on the way as Western ideas such as eating meat, changing style of dress and the destruction of the Samurai class take precedent over tradition. Taka is the daughter of General Kitaoka from the Southern Satsuma clan and is able to escape her fate as the daughter of a geisha by enrolling in a new Western school. One of the servants in their household is Nobu, a boy from the Northern Aizu clan who would have been a Samurai but instead must eke out a living any way he can. The two become close but must keep their friendship a secret.When General Kitaoka returns to the South in anger at the corruption in the new government, things become dangerous for Taka and Nobu. The Satsuma clan are planning another rebellion and Nobu joins the Japanese government army to fight them. Taka is being pressurised into an arranged marriage by her mother and soon war breaks out with dangerous consequences. Nobu is in the impossible position of fighting the Satsuma whilst trying to protect Taka and look to the future all at the same time.Unfortunately, I was underwhelmed by Across a Bridge of Dreams. To start with the positives, it was clear that Downer had completed a considerable amount of research into Japan at this time and that shone through the writing. I knew nothing about the Satsuma rebellion and appreciated learning about it through the story. The different settings in Japan were clearly evoked with the more tropical South being distinct from Tokyo and the geisha districts. There were fantastic little bits of information that added historical accuracy, for example the fact that married women used to blacken their teeth or explanations about the honor of being a samurai wife or daughter.I also liked the characterisations. I often find that the female characters in historical fiction have modern ideas and this can be jarring. Taka did have modern ideas, wanting to marry for love and resisting an arranged marriage, but in this case it made perfect sense as she had been sent to a Western school and experienced freedom. The female characters as a whole were well developed and interesting.Where I think Across a Bridge of Dreams fell down was that it was completely missing grit. I didn't mind the romance but it needed to be more balanced with sections about the harsh reality of war. Downer did write about war and touched on some horrific scenes, but everything felt too light and fluffy, especially when you compare her writing with someone like Lisa See's. As a result, I never felt scared for Taka or Nobu or fully engaged in the story. There was a sense throughout that everything would work out well in the end, which ruins any suspense.Downer also relied on some pretty fortuitous circumstances to keep reuniting Taka and Nobu throughout the story. I know they needed to meet to move the plot along but the situations felt very unlikely to occur in war time. Nobu also keep running into Taka's brother out of all the soldiers in the Satsuma rebellion, something that also felt contrived and thus took some enjoyment away from reading the story. Without spoiling the ending, it felt too neat and too 'easy', given that Downer had spent so long previously in the story explaining the enmity between Satsuma and Aizu clans.So Across a Bridge of Dreams was a mixed bag of positives and negatives. Unfortunately it didn't live up to my expectations.

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings is the first volume of Maya Angelou's autobiography and deals mainly with her childhood in the rural town of Stamps, Arkansas. Sent to her grandmother after her parents separate, Maya and her brother come of age in a Southern small town in the 1930s where segregation is total and racism everywhere. At eight, Maya moves to St Louis to live with her mother and is raped by her mother's new boyfriend before later experiencing new freedoms as a teenager in California.I've been meaning to read this book for the longest time and it certainly lived up to my expectations. Angelou writes in a very simple way but her writing is extraordinarily evocative of place. Whether it was the general store in Stamps, the gambling clubs in St Louis or the slums of California, I felt as though I was right there with Angelou. She even manages to capture the atmosphere of each setting and infuse them with a sense of time and history.There were some fantastic character portraits too. I enjoyed the sketch of the cotton pickers lining up at dawn outside the store full of optimism but back later in the evening with half empty sacks and wounded hands, full of worry about how they would feed their family through winter. Maya writes without judgement, which means she can provide a balanced portrayal of her mother, who wants to be a good mum but who is caught up in the excitement and glamour of life. Of course the character of Maya's grandmother comes through very strongly as she was the person who had the most impact on the young Maya. Her pride, strength and values are clear to see.Even though this book deals with a lot of 'issues', I was pleased to see that it was also a coming of age story. Whilst racism, crime and rape are dealt with powerfully by Angelou, at it's heart I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings is about the universal experience of growing up and contains hope as well as hardships. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it but did find the ending a bit abrupt. I know there are several other volumes in the autobiography but it would have been nice if this volume had a more complete ending, rather than just suddenly stopping at a new life event.Recommended to everyone that's not had a chance to read it yet, this is an important book.

The Caliph's House is an account of the first year Shah and his family spent in Casablanca, renovating a dilapidated traditional house and attempting to fit in with the locals.Unfortunately, not all of my expectations were met. In many ways, The Caliph's House is a wonderful book full of simple but absorbing writing and Shah certainly does a good job at describing Casablanca and Morocco itself. Although there are sketches included, they aren't really necessary as, reading the book, I felt as if I was actually there with Shah and his family. The culture of the Moroccans (for example their belief in Jinns) is described with respect but a gentle humour that shows the high regard Shah has for his adopted country. As someone who has often daydreamed about packing everything in and moving to an exotic location, I enjoyed reading about the renovation of the house and how the traditional Moroccan artisans worked. But this was also where I felt the book fell down a bit; Shah's writing is much more suited to stories and atmospheres, not practicalities like finding a carpenter or fixing a sewerage pipe. The passages about the Moroccans and his visits around the country were enchanting, but the renovation sections seemed to drag. There's only so many times I needed to read about workers not turning up on time or the guardians of the house panicking about something the resident Jinn might or might not have done.All that is not to say The Caliph's House isn't a wonderful book - it is. It's just that In Arabian Nights is better (more about Morocco, less about house renovation) and I happened to read that first. The Caliph's House was worth reading for the descriptions and for the friendships Shah struck up with some of the Moroccans in the slum bordering his house; I had a soft spot for the refined stamp collector, Hicham. I look forward to reading some of Shah's other books in the future, particularly In Search of King Solomon's Mines and Trail of Feathers, about Peru.

Saba Tarcan is a half-Turkish girl living in Wales during World War Two who dreams of using her voice to escape her mundane surroundings. She auditions for ENSA and is delighted to be offered the chance to travel to the Middle East and be a part of performances to boost troop morale in the desert, even though her father threatens to disown her. Saba plunges in head first, eager to soak up all the experiences life has to offer her, including a romance with injured fighter pilot Dom. When she is approached by the secret service for a mission she is uniquely qualified for, Saba is seduced by the idea of doing something exciting and important, oblivious to the danger the offer also entails. But life during war is not a fairy tale, and Saba and Dom are both in for some hard lessons.Jasmine Nights is all about the naivety of youth. Saba and Dom both think they are untouchable, that nothing will happen to them, that hardships and suffering are for others but never for themselves. They both throw themselves willingly into dangerous situations, thinking of the glamour and adventure rather than the consequences. Saba is entranced by the glitter and shine of wartime Egypt, the praise she receives for her voice, the beautiful dresses and the chance to finally live her dream. She ignores warnings given by everyone around her and behaves as if her life is a Hollywood movie in which she has the starring role. Dom has already been shot down once but willingly requests a move to an active company so he can continue to fly. They fall completely, dramatically in love and trust in a happy ever after ending.The first half of the novelwas like this and I was starting to question whether Jasmine Nights would be a book for me. Where was the grit? The realism? But as I read into the second half and Saba became more involved with her spying mission, the grit gradually seeped in and both Saba and Dom learned some hard lessons indeed. The technique of making the first half so light and glamourous was a success as it provided a great contrast with the events nearer the end of the book. The final sections were gripping to read and I think Gregson was clever to structure the novel in the way she did.Overall, I did think there was too much romance. I don't mind reading about characters falling in love and it was well written, but in this book what I really wanted to read about was Saba's role in the secret service. I knew that women served as spies during World War Two and I find this completely fascinating. I wanted the character of Mr Cleeve, Saba's agent/boss, to be further developed, especially his reaction in the aftermath of events at the end of the book. For someone intelligent, Saba shows remarkably little curiosity about the secret service - I wanted her to find out more so I could be in on the secret too! Altering the balance slightly away from romance would have made this novel work better for me.All in all, I enjoyed Jasmine Nights. The setting of WWII Egypt was of course wonderful and I was satisfied with the ending. I just found the first half a bit too light and fluffy and a bit too long.

For me, Speak was a victim of it's own hype. Melinda Sordino seems like an ordinary teenager until she attends a party one night the summer before starting high school. She becomes known as "the kid that called the cops" and isolated by her peers. As we follow Melinda, she becomes more and more insular and full of complex emotions as the year goes on and she stops communicating with those around her. But what really happened at the party to have such a big impact on her?I really wanted to love this book. I enjoyed reading it and think it is an important book in some regards, but unfortunately I just don't see it as the modern classic that others do. I'm going to set out my 'problems' with the book below, some are subjective to my reading experience and some are more objective. If you love this book, I'm sorry!1. I already knew what was wrong with Melinda before reading. This meant that there was no emotional kick in the teeth for me when the reader finally finds out what happened to her. I applaud Laurie Halse Anderson to drawing attention to the issue and hope that teenagers reading the book learn more about how horrific an experience it could be. Having said that, I felt like the perpetrator was a stereotypical example and it would have been more realistic if he was Melinda's boyfriend rather than a random? (Trying to not spoil the book for anyone else).2. I couldn't relate to Melinda's high school experience. I'm not American and the school environment Melinda describes was worlds away from my own experiences. I know it's subjective but it meant I wasn't transported back to my high school days, like I would have needed to be to really feel for Melinda and connect with her.3. Some of the writing was too obvious. I liked that Anderson wrote about how the enormity of what had happened to Melinda literally stopped her from talking but at times it felt like this device was over-used. Particularly when Melinda gets sores on her lips and requires medical attention; it just felt like too much.4. I didn't think the writing was especially great in general. The simplistic style was a good choice but it felt clunky and awkward. I much preferred the writing in her later book, Chains.5. Melinda's parents - I understand they were busy and frustrated with her and each other, but I found it hard to believe they would do nothing for so long. As an adult this especially bothered me as absent parenting is something I've noticed a lot in YA. There are plenty of absent parents out there but sometimes it feels that writing them this way is just a convenience for the author. I don't want to be too negative about the book as I enjoyed reading it and, as I said, it spotlights an important issue to a vulnerable group. It simply wasn't all that I had been hoping for.

Ayla is a young girl orphaned by an earthquake in prehistoric times. Only five and left to wander helplessly looking for food and water, she is attacked by a cave lion before chancing upon a group of Neanderthal. Taken in by the medicine woman, Iza, and the holy man, Creb, Ayla is bought up as a Neanderthal, as one of the Clan. But despite her best efforts she is different and finds it hard to conform to all of their customs and rituals. The leader, Brun, is accepting and lenient, but the future leader Broud, develops a deep resentment towards Ayla. As she comes of age her differences become more apparent and tensions appear in the Clan. As they prepare for a Clan gathering with other groups of Neanderthals, things build to a head for Ayla and her adopted family.I was ambivalent about The Clan of the Cave Bear. I found it to have a very slow start and it took me a good hundred pages or so out of five hundred to actually get involved with the story. It was hard to connect with Ayla properly until she was a bit older, but once I had connected with her I started enjoying the book a lot more as I did want to find out what would happen to her. The first time she got into trouble with the Clan, I was gripped, but as the book went on the structure became a bit repetitive. It basically went like this: Ayla breaks a Clan custom because she is different, Broud wants her to have a death curse, the men have extended deliberations, Brun finally decides to accept Ayla back. This happens two or three times and so the tension was lost; Ayla didn't seem to be in any danger of being cut off from the Clan whilst Brun was in charge.I admire the world building in The Clan of the Cave Bear. The prehistoric times are bought back to life vividly and it's easy to tell that Auel has thought about every aspect of Clan life and ritual before writing. The slow pace meant that this world could be fully introduced and also that there was time for all the characters to shine and be developed, not just Ayla. I was fond of the leader, Brun, and the calm, logical approach he took to the people he was responsible for. Even the villain of the piece, Broud, is a balanced character and Auel takes the time to explain his motivation for acting in the way he does towards Ayla.In fact, my main issue with The Clan of the Cave Bear was how long it took for me to read it - almost two weeks. This is unheard of for me, even if I did choose to read it during a busy time at work. To put it into perspective - I read Anna Karenina faster than I did this! And even more so than the time it took, Cave Bear felt like an effort to read and get through. There was so much background information that it became dense and at points it took me days to get through a single chapter. I wanted to finish it because of the characters and world building, but it was hard work and a book like this shouldn't be. So whilst there was a cliffhanger ending and I am interested to see what Ayla will do next, I'll hold off reading Valley of the Horses for a while yet.