Archives

Valley of Dragons by Christina Baehr

Apr24

The series, The Secrets of Ormdale by Christina Baehr:

  • Wormwood Abbey, Book #1
  • Drake Hall, Book #2
  • Castle of the Winds, Book #3
  • City of Serpents, Book #4
  • Valley of Dragons, Book #5

I already reviewed the first book in this series, and now that I’ve finished all five books in The Secrets of Ormdale saga, I’m going to give you my thoughts on the entire series, rather than review each book individually. My immediate reaction is: excellent fantasy and romance fiction! Set in Victorian London and Yorkshire, these books are appropriately Victorian, with a nod to “new ideas” (at the time) such as women’s suffrage and equality of the sexes and classes. Each book tells a separate contained story, and yet each one leads on to the next. The themes and characters are obviously influenced by Christian and Charlotte Mason ideas and principles, but with a light touch, not at all didactic. There is some exploration of the status and plight of Jewish people in England during the time period when many Ashkenazi Jews were fleeing Eastern Europe to come to British shores. And the central character and narrator, Edith Worms, is a part of a delightful and deeply Christian family who live their commitment to Christ and his teachings rather than grounding their Christianity in Victorian cultural morality.

So, that’s the overview. As for Book #5 in the series, Valley of Dragons, it is much longer than the other four books in the series, clocking in at 499 pages. But the author needed all of those pages to finish her story. As the story commences in Book #5, there are yet many secrets to be revealed, prisoners to be released, enemies to be defeated, and dragons to be tamed.

About those dragons, these stories do feature reptiles, many kinds of serpents, salamanders, cockatrices, basilisks, sea monsters, wyverns, and lizards–even a Quetzalcoatl–all collectively termed as dragons in this alternate world. Indeed, Britain harbors at least four families of dragon keepers who have kept their many species of dragons safe and secret for centuries.

Some literary experts insist that dragons and serpents must always only be shown in literature as “bad guys”, archetypal monsters and symbols of satanic influence, like the serpent in the Garden of Eden. Anyone who writes about a “good dragon” or a dragon ally or pet is inverting the symbols and distorting the fundamental meaning of the literary tradition, and maybe even Scripture itself. However, Edith Worms and her father, a clergyman, and I beg to differ:

“‘You said once that the church had been a comfort to you when you were young, Father, because it mentioned dragons. But aren’t they always a symbol of evil in the scriptures?’

‘A symbol, yes. To say evil is like a dragon is to say evil is deadly and long-lived. . . . But not all of the dragons in the scriptures are evil. What of Job’s leviathan? You will not find a passage more full of wonder than that. Everything was good when it was created. . . .’

‘When I look at the dragons, I see something beautiful–something worth protecting,” I said. . . . “But the people of Dale, they see something fearful. Something only an archangel can save them from.’

‘God made both people and dragons, my dear. What we must find is a way for us to live together peacefully–as He intended. . . ,’ Father said encouragingly.”

Dragons can certainly signify evil and danger and monstrosity with in the literary tradition, but they can also simply stand for power and peril and wonder within that same tradition. Stories are not bound by such petty rules of literary nitpicking. Nor is Scripture. The serpent on a pole that Mose was instructed to elevate before the Israelites in the wilderness was a symbol and vehicle of healing (Numbers 21:4-9). The dragons in The Secrets of Ormdale are certainly dangerous, like lions and tigers are dangerous, but they are subject to men (and women) to whom God gave the job of tending His creation, including all kinds of reptiles, even dragons.

Dragons aside for the moment, these books are all about secrets, especially family secrets, and how they can destroy relationships and even block love itself. The books do involve romance as Edith learns to “open her heart” and accept the pain and loss that loving someone can entail. The romantic scenes themselves are completely chaste, with only a few kisses described, but there are allusions to the perversion of sexual attraction as one character recalls being sexually assaulted and another is kidnapped and almost forced into an unwilling marriage.

I thought these books with their emphasis on freedom and openness and the free choices of responsible men and women to care for each other in mutual, self-sacrificial and loving relationship were a perfect antidote to the typical Gothic romance with its brooding atmosphere of secrets and seduction. In The Secrets of Ormdale, all secrets are eventually brought out into the open, and the happily-ever-after is built on a firm foundation of mutual respect and truth.

The entire series, The Secrets of Ormdale, is available for check out from Meriadoc Homeschool Library for adults and young adult who are prepared for romantic themes, practical young heroines, and of course, beautiful and perilous dragons.

The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion by Beth Brower

Apr18

Brower, Beth. The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion, Volumes 1-4. Rysdon Press, 2019-2021.

I saw these books recommended here and there on the internet, and the synopses and reviews sounded interesting, so I decided to try the first volume of The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion. (I assume that “unselected” means “unedited”.) Miss Lion’s journal in its first volume was a brief read, only 107 pages, but it was indeed enticing enough to make me immediately order a copy of Volume 2. Which led to Volumes 3 and 4, and I am hooked.

In Volume 1 we meet Miss Emma M. Lion as she arrives at Lapis Lazuli House in the neighborhood of St. Crispian’s, London on March 5, 1883. Miss Lion’s journal entries are filled with intriguing and mysterious references to various incidents and persons such as “The Great Burning of 1882” and “The Incident which led to The Scar” and “the monkey’s head Maxwell sent me” and “the Roman centurion (ghost) at Jacob’s Well” and more. Some of these are explained as one reads on; others are left to the imagination and most probably to later volumes. This first volume of the journals really just introduces Emma Lion and a cast of characters who include a nefarious uncle, a formidable aunt, a few friends and cousins, and various inhabitants of the slightly magical, eccentric neighborhood of St. Crispian’s.

In Volume 2, Emma, determined to remain in her home, Lapis Lazuli House, despite financial and social difficulties, begins to enter into multiple adventures and schemes and to add a bit a romance to her life. Even though Emma is not particularly interested in romantic entanglements or marriage, and even though she is not particularly eligible, having little or no money, she does have an awful lot of young men in her orbit: the photographer to whom she rents a room, her childhood nemesis turned into a handsome bachelor, the duke who lives in the neighborhood, a poetic and somewhat eccentric Church of England curate, and a charming scoundrel named Jack, to name a few. Emma navigates all of these with grace and wit, while also doing the bidding of her autocratic Aunt Eugenia, somewhat reluctantly, and managing at least a stand off with her arch-enemy Cousin Archibald.

At this point and into volumes 3 and 4, the story begins to remind one of a TV series (like Downton Abbey or All Creatures Great and Small) with lots of characters, some lovely dialog, little stories embedded into a larger story, and hints and revelations that pique the curiosity and keep one coming back for more. So far the romance is chaste and Victorian, and the language is tame, although there are a very few instances in which characters use God’s name in vain, which I wish were not present. Since I’ve only read Volumes 1-4 so far, I can’t guarantee that Emma remains a paragon of virtue, by twenty-first century standards. By Victorian standards, she’s already lost paragon status by the end of Volume 2. However, her adventures are not really shocking for anyone who is not Aunt Eugenia or of her ilk, and Emma is a church-going, Scripture reading, young lady in all I have read so far.

I love these books, and I foresee spending a great deal of time reading Emma’s journals. Author Beth Brower has promised:  “the plan is to write four years of Emma’s life, give or take. And as every volume covers two months of Emma’s life, that is, indeed, six volumes each year.” So, twenty-four or more volumes. (Volume 2 and succeeding volumes are much longer than Volume 1; 191 pages for Volume 4.) At about $12.00 apiece in paperback, I also foresee spending a great deal of money collecting all of Miss Lion’s journals. If you read books in ebook form, you will have a much less expensive journey, should you decide to read your way through the Unselected Journals. If you can get them from the library, even better; however Rysdon Press seems to be Ms. Brower’s personal imprint, and many libraries do not purchase self-published books as a matter of policy. (Oh, I think Kindle Unlimited may have them for free.)

Still, here I go to order Volumes 5 and 6. At least, you will be able to check out Volumes 1-6 from Meriadoc Homeschool Library in the future. As I said, I am hooked.

Stateless by Elizabeth Wein

Feb2

Having just re-read the Flambards novels by K.M. Peyton, set in the early days of flying and airplanes before, during , and after World War I, I was prepared and pleased to read another golden age of flying novel, this one set in 1937 Europe, just before World War 2 changed everything. Elizabeth Wein, author of the compelling and well written Code Name Verity, Rose Under Fire, and Black Dove White Raven (as well as a disastrously bad prequel to Code Name Verity), likes to write about female aviators, and airplanes, and flying as well as the politics and adventures surrounding the 1930’s and World War 2. In Stateless she has given us a spy and aviation thriller reminiscent of Helen MacInnes’ spy novels which is a high compliment because I am quite fond of MacInnes.

Stella North, Northie to her friends, has been chosen to represent Britain in the Circuit of Nations Olympics of the Air, Europe’s First Youth Air Race. She’s the only female flyer in the race with eleven other pilots from eleven different European countries. The race is supposed to be promoting peace and friendly relations between the peoples and nations of Europe, but with the Spanish Civil War still raging and the Nazis becoming more powerful and belligerent in Germany, peace seems somewhat elusive. And the press is no help at all, with reporters mobbing the contestants in every city they fly to and asking questions that suggest that the pilots themselves might resort to sabotaging each other’s planes to win the race. When one of the racers goes missing, and Northie has dangerous information about what happened to him, she and others begin to wonder if a murderer might be lurking among the contestants.

The themes of international and world peace and the difficulties of achieving it and of individual identity and nationality and transcending European borders are articulated, but left to simmer as the plot itself and figuring out whodunnit took up most of the space in my reading mind. I did notice that the characters were mostly multilingual and multinational with divided loyalties that were soon to tested by the outbreak of World War 2. The author in her Author’s Note at the end of the book speculates on what would happen to these young flyers in just a couple of years after 1937, but we’ll never know unless Ms. Wein decides to write a sequel.

Well plotted and exciting, this novel falls just short of brilliant. There’s the problem of why don’t Stella and the charming but volatile Tony inform the authorities of their suspicions and of what they have actually witnessed. Of course, for the sake of the story, the authorities can’t just wrap everything up, call off the race, and send everyone home. So Northie and her friends must find reasons not to tell what they know: they don’t trust anyone else. No one would believe them. They don’t have enough proof. Nonsense. If I saw what Stella saw and knew what she knew, I’d be screaming bloody murder (literally, murder!) until someone somewhere listened and believed me and did something. At least, I think I would. Anyway, if you just go with it, it’s a good story.

And it’s clean. There are one or two brief kisses, and some faked necking (standing close and pretending to kiss) while the protagonists are hiding from the Gestapo. No bad language that I recall, except for one exclamation using the word “bloody” by a British character, a word which I understand carries more weight with the Brits. There is violence, but it’s not terribly graphic. All in all, it’s a book I would be happy to recommend to older teenage and adult readers.

The Pearl Lagoon by Charles Nordhoff

Nov2

What are boys (and girls) reading in the way of adventure stories these days? Most of the the realistic fiction I read these days for middle grade readers is “problem fiction”: mom is sinking into depression and the child must cope with the fallout, or the main character is autistic or has a learning disability, or the bad developers are going to turn the local park into a parking lot. Nothing wrong with that, but where’s the adventure? Many young readers are into fantasy fiction, which does have the adventure element, but it’s not usually an adventure that the reader can imagine participating in himself.

Well, the novels of yesteryear for young people were full of adventure. Sure some of the adventures required a suspension of disbelief, as does this 1924 novel, The Pearl Lagoon. Nevertheless, excitement and danger used to be abundant in fiction written for young people. In The Pearl Lagoon, Charlie Selden, the protagonist and narrator, is an all-American boy of sixteen, living on a California ranch, isolated and starved for adventure, when his Uncle Harry, “a buyer of copra and pearl-shell in the South Seas,” comes along with an offer that can’t be refused. Uncle Harry wants to take Charlie back to the island of Iriatai in the South Pacific, to help him hunt for pearls in Iriatai Lagoon.

Needless to say, Charlie jumps at the chance to go with Uncle Harry, and the adventure begins. The book includes fishing trips with Charlie’s new Tahitian friend, Marama, a boar hunt, a near-deadly shark attack, some rather perilous pearl diving, exploration of a hidden cave, and a climactic encounter with pirates who intend to steal all of the pearls the divers have found. Charlie grows older and wiser over the course of a life changing and thrilling experience.

The South Sea islander characters in the story are portrayed as “noble savages.” If the musical South Pacific and other stories of that nature are offensively “colonizing” to you, then Nordhoff’s 1924 vintage portrayal of the islands and their culture and people will be, too. Charlie says of his friend Marama,

“My friend could read and write, but otherwise he had no education in our sense of the word. He knew nothing of history, algebra, or geometry, but his mind was a storehouse of complex fishing-lore, picked up unconsciously since babyhood and enabling him to provide himself and his family with food. And when you come to think of it, that is one of the purposes of all education.”

The people of Tahiti and Iriatai are described variously as natives, savages, brown, formerly heathen, and superstitious. But they are also admired for their skill, courage, honesty, and loyalty. Charlie’s uncle, like the author Nordhoff, has come to think of Tahiti as his home, “the most beautiful thing in all the world.” You can read the book and decide for yourself whether Nordhoff shows love and respect for the Tahitian and other South Sea island peoples or not. I believe he does, and I recommend the book as a stirring romantic adventure, in the best sense of the word romance. (Romance, according to Sir Walter Scott, the great romantic novelist: “a fictitious narrative in prose or verse; the interest of which turns upon marvellous and uncommon incidents.”)

The Pearl Lagoon is marvelous, and uncommon, indeed.

The Forgotten Daughter by Caroline Dale Snedeker

May14

If The Forgotten Daughter were published now, instead of in 1927, it would probably be classified as Young Adult, at least in terms of interest level. The story takes a young Greek slave girl from age twelve to seventeen as she grows up in Samnium, southern Italy, on a Roman farm villa in the second century B.C. Chloe, the slave girl, lives in a hut on the mountainside with her guardian, an older woman named Melissa. Chloe’s mother is dead, and her father, the Roman patrician and owner of the villa whom she hates, deserted her mother before Chloe was born. The first part of the book deals with the back story behind the marriage of Chloe’s parents and Chloe’s birth and enslavement.

Although The Forgotten Daughter was a Newbery Honor book, I can’t imagine anyone younger than 12 or 13 being able to read the book with enjoyment and appreciation. It took several chapters for me as an adult to be able to follow the plot and understand the deeply religious, cultural, and philosophical meanderings that the author indulges. I did eventually enjoy the insight into Roman culture and law and religion, but it took some mental adjustment to understand the purpose of the descriptions and explanations of Roman superstition, Greek religious practice, Stoicism, and Roman politics, among other subjects. (It was a bit reminiscent of Victor Hugo, Les Miserables, and the sewers of Paris, but not nearly as long as Hugo’s digressions.)

The story is a romance, but a chaste one, although there is some kissing mentioned. It’s also a story of redemption and of freedom from the bondage of hatred and of forgiveness. The author paints a vivid and memorable picture of ancient Roman family life and politics, mentioning or invoking Sappho, Plato, Euripides, the Grachi, Plutarch, and many other Roman and Greek politicians and philosophers and playwrights. Chloe grows up isolated on her father’s Roman farm property, but the politics of Rome impact her life in unexpected ways. Her journey from slavery to freedom mirrors her internal journey from hatred to forgiveness, and it’s all accomplished within a pre-Christian religious and philosophical environment that feels very true and well-researched.

Charlotte Mason educators who are following her advice and reading Plutarch with their students would find this story full of connections and insights. I recommend it for philosophical girls and stoical boys and interested adults. Available from Bethlehem Books.

Bargain Bride by Evelyn Sibley Lampman

Nov26

I’ll just share the publisher’s (Purple House Press) disclaimer at the beginning of this review to get that off the table:

This book, written 45 years ago, tells the story of a young girl and her experiences in the Oregon Territory during the 19th century. An excellent storyteller, Evelyn SIbley Lampman provides the reader with the opportunity to explore this time and place through the eyes of the main character, including social customs, religious beliefs, and racial relations. Many aspects of life at that time are foreign and sometimes offensive to us now including specific customs, practices, beliefs, and words. To maintain and provide historical accuracy and to allow a true representation of this time period, words such as Indian, Injuns, savage, colored, and Negro have not been removed or edited.

So, Ginny is ten years old, living in Oregon Territory with her miserly and cruel distant cousins when she is sold into marriage to Mr. Mayhew, a man at least thrice her age. The marriage won’t be consummated until Ginny is fifteen at which time her kindly, but old, husband has promised to have a fine house built for her. When Mr. Mayhew comes to claim Ginny on her fifteenth birthday, it’s clear that he’s a kind man who has kept his promise to make a home for Ginny, but still Ginny is terrified, only sure that anything is better than living with Cousin Mattie and Cousin Beau.

Things go from bad to worse (or better?) when Ginny and her new husband get to their flourishing farm only to have Mr. Mayhew fall dead of a stroke. So Ginny is left with a rich farmstead and a whole train of suitors who can’t wait to offer their strength and protection to the wealthy young widow. Ginny has more important worries than finding a new husband, however. What if Cousin Mattie and Cousin Beau move into her house and take over as they are trying to do? Can Ginny stop them? What’s to be done about the Indian (Molalla) woman who’s living in the smokehouse in back? What will the townspeople think of a fifteen year old widow living alone on the farm? But who can Ginny find to stay with her other than that harridan, Cousin Mattie?

Many of the characters in this novel certainly are prejudiced, pig-headed, and close-minded. And that’s just the “good guys”, including Ginny herself at times. The cousins, the “bad guys” in the story are worse. Still, the people of the town and Ginny’s neighbors are generous, welcoming, and consistently helpful to Ginny as she learns to make a life for herself on the Oregon frontier. Their relationships with the Native Americans in the area are complicated, and this story presents some of those complications with all the nuance and compassion possible in a short young adult novel. None of the characters is completely right or completely wrong (except maybe Cousin Mattie). Some are more prejudiced than others. Some learn, like Ginny, to accept the Molalla people, even though Ginny never does completely understand their culture and actions.

At any rate, this young adult novel, and I think it is indeed young adult, maybe ages 13 and up, raises lots of good questions. What is marriage, and why is it important? Are economic reasons sufficient to make a good marriage? Are we so sure that romantic love is the only basis for a sound marriage? How old is old enough to be and adult? What if one is forced into adulthood? How do we begin to understand and value people from a completely background or culture other than our own? What if we can’t communicate? What if they don’t seem to value us or want to communicate? How do we confront racism and prejudice? Can you talk someone out of their prejudices?

I found this novel to be thought-provoking and compelling. I’m thankful that Purple House Press was able to reprint it, along with three more of Ms. Lampman’s novels: The Shy Stegosaurus of Cricket Creek, Three Knocks on the Wall, and The City Under the Back Steps. You can purchase all four books from PHP, or you check them out from my library, Meriadoc Homeschool Library.

Vivid (The Color Theory #1) by Ashley Bustamante

Sep26

All of the people left on Earth live together on a protected island run by those who manifest some sort of color magic as children and by those magical adults who become Benefactors, protectors of the world on this island. Ava’s goal as she studies in her school Prism has always been to become a Benefactor someday. So, there are three kinds of color magic:

  • Red Augmenters have magic that affects the body: healing, strengthening, and increasing agility and speed.
  • Blue Shaper magic changes and makes objects, technology, building and re-forming things into different things.
  • Yellow Mentalists, however are dangerous. They can work on, even control, others’ thoughts and emotions. Yellow, the color and the magic associated with it, has been outlawed, and practitioners of yellow magic have disappeared from the island. They are exiled or perhaps destroyed?

This book is firmly in the Young Adult camp. There’s an on again-off again romance building throughout the novel, and it reads like a very teenage-y, somewhat ridiculous, romantic entanglement in the eyes of this sixty-five year old grandmother. (Not a criticism. If you’re a teen girl, you may fall hard for Ava’s love interest, Elm.) Ava indeed does fall for the “bad boy”, only maybe he’s not a bad boy at all. But he is a Yellow magic mentalist, so maybe he’s manipulating her mind? Ick! Is he good or bad? Can Ava trust him or not? That’s a lot of the plot and tension in the entire story.

I enjoyed the book, but I never could get over my discomfort with the idea that Yellow magic people could manipulate other people’s thoughts and feelings. How would you ever know if what you were feeling or thinking was real and accurate if that’s the case? I think this is exactly why God gives us free will; our responses have to be our own, and we have to know that our loves and and beliefs are not coerced. Otherwise, nothing can be trusted to be real or meaningful or logical.

So, although the premise of the story is catchy, and the writing is decent, I’m having trouble staying on the train. Maybe the second book in the series will explain more. And maybe the romantic part of the story will be just a little more mature? I don’t mean explicit, just less angsty, more carefully considered.

Overall, it’s a decent start to a possibly good series. You might want to wait for the next installment, or if you like clean bad boy romances, you could go ahead and jump in now.

The Borrowed House by Hilda van Stockum

Oct10

Janna is proud of her membership in the Hitler Youth. She’s proud of her parents, famous actors, who have left Janna in Germany while they tour and entertain the troops of the Reich. Janna is also proud of having been chosen to play Brunhilde in the upcoming play that her youth group is going to perform, the story of Siegfried and Brunhilde from Hitler’s favorite opera by Wagner. Most of all, Janna is proud to be German and Aryan, and not a member of those inferior Jewish or Slavic races.

The Borrowed House is a young adult story, not because it’s about a teenager; Janna is only twelve years old in the book. And it’s not YA because of explicit sex or even violence, although there is some of the latter as the author describes the violence against Jews and others in Holland where Janna goes to join her parents. The Borrowed House is YA because it deals with mature themes of racism and indoctrination and trust and adultery in a way that is nuanced and complicated and respectful of the maturity of its audience. Janna is an unusual twelve year old, and she sees and understands things that most twelve year olds wouldn’t even think about. And there is a developing romance between twelve year old Janna and an older resident of the borrowed house that Janna and her parents live in. Nothing explicit or illicit, but the romantic subtext is there.

Maybe you should read this one yourself before handing it to your child, because first of all, it won’t be the right book for every young person. And secondly, The Borrowed House is one of those rare novels that adults can appreciate just as well as teens can. The book gives a lot insight into the way the German civilians looked at the war and at Herr Hitler as well as the privations and persecution and courage of the Dutch and Jewish people in Holland during World War II.

Republished by Purple House Press in 2016, this World War II novel is an excellent story and a definite discussion starter. Just think carefully about who would appreciate it properly and at what age.The writing and subject matter and characterization remind me a little bit of Madeleine L’Engle’s young adult novels. If you’ve read and enjoyed A Winter’s Love or The Small Rain by L’Engle, then The Borrowed House has about the same maturity level with some similar themes.

Castle Adamant by Sally Watson

May24

Sally Watson was an author who wrote several books I loved as a child: Mistress Malapert, Linnet, Jade, and Lark are the ones I remember reading. Several years ago I found a couple more of her books, Highland Rebel and The Hornet’s Nest, and added them to my library. I already had a copy of Lark, and my daughter enjoyed it when she was a girl just as much as I did. However, all of Ms. Watson’s books were out of print and nowhere to be found for many years.

Then, I found that many of her books had been reprinted or republished, either by the author herself or by some small reprint publishers. And there were more books, set during the English Civil Wars of the 1640’s, Cavaliers versus Roundheads, with strong-willed female protagonists and exciting historical plots just like the Lark/Linnet/Jade books. So, I ordered myself a copy of Mistress Malapert and of a new-to-me book, Castle Adamant.

Unfortunately, I didn’t look closely at the suggested target age group for the novel, and I won’t be able to put this book in my library. That’s a shame because it’s a good story, and the others that I do remember are completely appropriate for middle grade readers. However, Castle Adamant (and apparently the two other books that form a trilogy with it, The Outrageous Oriel and Loyal and the Dragon) has just enough “adult” or “young adult” content to make it too much for the middle grades.

Castle Adamant features the defense of Corfe Castle by its Royalist owners from assault by the Parliamentary forces. The story of Corfe Castle and the battles that took place there are true, but Ms. Watson throws in a few fictional characters to make it interesting. Peregrine Lennox is the second son of a Royalist lord and advisor to King Charles I. Verity Goodchild is the independent-thinking daughter of a Roundhead colonel. Trained to be a Calvinist but also educated in the classics and in logic, Verity is a mass of contradictions, determined to forge her own ideas and convictions through the various conflicting and confusing issues of the time. Peregrine is an “arrogant sprig of nobility”, “vain, kind, condescending, and resigned to boredom.” When Peregrine’s lazy intelligence meets up with Verity’s fiery intelligence, the arguments and the Latin quotations fly fast and furious, along with many a Scripture verse from Verity’s unlimited and memorized storehouse.

So, the novel is made up of two elements: the battle(s) for Corfe Castle and the battle(s) between Verity and Peregrine. The content warning is that the author keeps throwing in not so subtle hints about the the physical attraction between Verity and Peregrine:

“The maleness her small breasts pressed against was firm and strong and hard and smelled of horse and herbs. Prevented–not for fear of Satan, but by her painful arms–from holding yet more tightly, she allowed the unslapped side of her face to rest against his doublet.”

“Verity instantly fell into lusting even harder after her friend’s husband-to-be. With passion, Satan was indeed tempting her; and it was a shock, for she had never willed it.”

“At one point she ripped her skirt all the way up, providing a stunning view of a long shapely leg. She was not aware of it, nor even of the long deep scratch down her thigh. . . .She had no idea she had titillated Peregrine, or indeed showed him her leg at all.”

“‘I won’t wed anyone. I’ll be a spinster. But—” She looked at him, and all virtue left her. ‘Peregrine— If we could manage— I would come to your bed anyway.’
For a moment, she thought in anguish that he was repulsed by her froward and sinful thoughts. His face was blank, and an odd bulge appeared just in the front of his breeches. A strong instinct told Verity it was something not to be asked about nor even noticed—but that perhaps it was not revulsion either?”

That, and couple of scenes where a villager and a soldier try to assault Verity and steal a kiss, are as explicit as it gets, but sadly way too much for children. The theological debates that Verity has with Peregrine, with the doyenne of Corfe Castle, and with God Himself are certainly somewhat mature also, but her questions are nothing an intelligent eleven or twelve year old wouldn’t be able to handle.

I haven’t read The Outrageous Oriel, but I did read this bit about it at Sally Watson’s website:

“Outrageous Oriel was lots of fun–-and possibly a bit shocking to a few–-but times change, don’t they? That was Oriel, all right. Outrageous.
In the ’50’s and ’60’s the trilogy would be definitely Adult, with Oriel and her friend Evan agreeing to marry platonically, because, he tells her, he loves her dearly as a friend but prefers fellows in his bed. Now? Who knows? I’ve read YA much nearer the mark.”

So, yes, the three books in “the trilogy” are adult or young adult, and the others I’ve named are middle grade reads that can be enjoyed by all ages. I liked Castle Adamant for the most part, but I plan to stick to Sally Watson’s juvenile novels from here on out.

The Mantlemass Chronicles by Barbara Willard

May9

The Sprig of Broom (1485)
The Lark and the Laurel (1485)
The Eldest Son (1534)
A Cold Wind Blowing (1536)
The Iron Lily (1557)
A Flight of Swans (1588)
Harrow and Harvest (1642)

These books take us through English history from the Battle of Bosworth, to the reign of the Tudor kings, to Henry VIII’s dissolution of the monasteries, to the Spanish Armada, to another English civil war between Cromwell’s Roundheads and the King’s Royalists or Cavaliers. During all these great events the families in and around the manor house Mantlemass—-Mallorys, Medleys, Plashets, and Hollands–-pursue their own ends and keep their own secrets. From reading the synopses of these other novels in the series, I can see that marriage and romance and family secrets and loyalty and independence continue to be themes that Ms. Willard explores in her books. I’m going to enjoy exploring with her and her characters.

**********************

And I did it. I “binge read” the last five of The Mantlemass Chronicles and enjoyed the experience immensely. Barbara Willard is not well enough known or regarded. Her family saga that covers multiple generations (about with or ten?) is insightful and compelling. The characters remind me of Elizabeth Goudge or Winston Poldark (Poldark), but they are more believable than Winston Graham’s sometimes over-wrought and over dramatic characters, and Willard sticks with the same family for seven books, unlike Goudge. And even though the people who inhabit Mantlemass in the last book of the series, Harrow and Harvest, know almost nothing about the ancestors whose story is told in the first two books, there is a family secret that is handed down from generation to generation over 150 plus years. This thread of secret plus inheritance plus genetic line plus the house itself, Mantlemass, ties all of the books together, making for a very satisfying read.

A Cold Wind Blowing covers the same time period that was chronicled in The Eldest Son, but this time we get to read about events from the perspective of the second son of the Medley family, Piers. Gaps and events that are only alluded to but never explained in The Eldest Son make up the story in A Cold Wind Blowing, and readers learn to understand this family and relationships within it in a deeper and more illuminating way. Piers, a likable character in the first book, becomes the center of the family in this book, the young man seasoned by grief and tragedy who will in the next book/episode be both the patriarch and the source of continued family drama.

The Iron Lily introduces readers to another branch of the Medley/Mallory family, an illegitimate daughter who finds her family and brings a new strength and will to the family she finds. Lilias and her daughter Ursula move into the vicinity of Mantlemass and become a part of the community there despite not a little struggle and misunderstanding. Lilias, a widow, is determined to support her daughter and make her own way in the world of the iron industry. In a world of men workers and owners, Lilias is an anomaly, a strong woman who runs her iron foundry as she runs her life, with stubborn purpose. However, she’s not completely out of place in the Mallory/Medley family, which has a history of strong-willed women and men to match them. The question is whether or not Lily with her autocratic ways will ruin the life of her daughter Ursula when the two clash over Ursula’s future.

A Flight of Swans moves the story to the next generation and the attempted invasion of England by the Spanish Armada. Ursula is now the mistress of Mantlemass, and a couple of Jolland cousins, Roger and Humfrey, have come to visit. Ursula must deal with a broken marriage and with suspected treachery in the ironworks as it becomes profitable to sell the iron industry secrets to the highest bidder in a time of war. This book displays exactly what I liked about the entire series. Ms. Willard’s characters are real people who grow (or deteriorate) and change just as real people do, sometimes disappointing the reader but always continuing to be compelling and intriguing. The novel covers a great deal of time, and the reader must pay close attention to “fill in the gaps”, sometimes from one chapter to the next. But the attentiveness is worth cultivating for the sake of a fine story.

The last book in the series, Harrow and Harvest, takes place during the English Civil War between the Royalists and the Roundheads in the 1640’s. The family is in decline, and the family secrets have been all but lost. Nicholas Highwood and his sister Cecelia are managing Mantlemass, barely, when a distant relative from an estranged part of the family shows up with possibly a better claim to the inheritance. All of this family drama is made almost irrelevant by the approach of war and the necessity to declare their loyalties either to the king or to Parliament. Again, there are traitors in their midst, and the ironworks is a source of support and contention.

I thought the story ended well, and I very much enjoyed the ride. Again, I think this series could be an excellent period drama series along the lines of Poldark or Downton Abbey, but it’s better than Poldark since the characters never do anything that is wildly out of character as they sometimes do in Winston Graham’s series. I definitely recommend this series to fans of the family saga or British historical novels.