Henry VI Part One by William Shakespeare

It is probably a bit presumptuous of me to start targeting the Bard himself for criticism, considering that I've only been blogging and reviewing for little over a year. But I'm going to do it anyway, because I've already read some of his plays for various levels of schooling and I've enjoyed the experience every time, so I see no reason why I should put off reading the entirety of his works any longer. My edition of Shakespeare's complete works orders the plays in what can be considered chronological order (much as that is disputed), so I'll just be reading them in the order set out there, as I see no reason to hop around the texts all willy-nilly. Hence why I've started with the first part in the Henry VI series of plays.

Considering that the play is named Henry VI, Henry himself doesn't turn up until the beginning of Act III. Much as he is the title character though, I wouldn't say that the play is much about him. He's a background factor more than anything. The real conflict here is that of Talbot rallying English troops to regain lost French territories, combating the supernaturally aided presence of Joan La Pucelle (known to most of us as Joan of Arc); this effort is threatened from within the English forces by the uprising of various factions, who aim to influence the young, naive King Henry to support their various personal causes. It also involves lots of stabbing and a lot of jokes about cowardly Frenchmen. As a text, I'd say about half of it works really well. Political intrigue and the changes of allegiance work fantastically because it's an opportunity for Shakespeare to really have some grand dialogue, even if the reason for it is petty beyond all reason. Obviously, battles are a visual things and thus are implied between lines of dialogue, which can make it kind of difficult to keep track of what's just happened if you miss the tiny bit of text about one or another character dying. That said, it's a play, so it is meant to be watched. Hence why I watched the BBC's adaptation of it. While the limitations of using one sound stage for every scene, including battles, made the affair somewhat less grand than I had imagined, it was quite well made and very entertaining to watch. It's a shame that I could never really take the French characters seriously as a threat then. First there's Charles, the Dauphin who claims to be the rightful King of France, is an idiot no more fit for the throne than King Henry who is supposed to be a child; a similar thing could be said of Alencon. The other main followers, Reignier, the Bastard of Orleans and Burgundy just sort of blend into the background. Not what I would consider especially threatening. But my main problem with the French characters is La Pucelle. Compared with the men, she's pretty much lain claim to all the potential evil that they could have had as a whole. Communicating with the legions of hell? Check. Biggest gold-digger that side of the Channel? Check. Disrespectful to the dead? Check. This may just be the interpretation of the BBC production, as she seemed less of a conniving egomaniac in the text itself, but I had sort of hoped that La Pucelle would have at least one redeeming feature, but no. I can appreciate that making the French seem anything but evil would have been unheard of in the time it was written, but there is such thing as re-interpretation. Oh well, it's not an absolutely awful flaw, much as I've talked about it, certainly nothing that detracts from the enjoyment of watching or reading Henry VI.

Overall, a solid first entry into the Henry VI trilogy of plays, if a little simplistic in some areas. 3.5/5

Next review: Angel by L. A. Weatherly

Signing off,
Nisa.

Adventures in Cooking: Honey-glazed Walnut Bread

As you can probably tell from the title, this is not a post about books, shock as that may be. This is instead a post about the various recipes that I will be trying and either succeeding or failing at. Why this new feature? I like cooking and I want to keep a record of what recipes that I have tried to make and my various opinions of what they were like to cook and how they came out at the end. This feature will probably only show up occasionally, as my opportunities for cooking are a bit limited by university and by living with four other people with wildly different schedules.

In any case, I'm starting off this feature with Mary Berry's recipe for Honey-glazed Walnut Bread. Going into this my history with bread has been less than stellar: my last attempt in particular had me misread the recipe and put in about four times the required amount of yeast, resulting in a gooey mess that tasted of yeast and nothing but yeast. Considering this lacklustre history, I don't think this recipe came out badly. 

In terms of the actual process, it put me in mind of power-walks: you're not necessarily working for all that long, but it's a lot tougher than you would expect in that short period. This might just be the fact that I'm not all that in terms of upper body strength, but nonetheless I was surprised at the amount of pounding this dough needs. Speaking of the dough, there are a couple of things that I would do differently, were I to do this again. First, I would use more dry ingredients (in this case flour) because as it was, the dough was far too sticky to actually work with. The recipe does say that the dough should be slightly sticky, but this was just insane. The other thing I would do would be to flour the work-top liberally, instead of lightly as the recipe states. I must have added extra flour about four times because otherwise I'd have had more dough on the work-top than in the oven. 

As for outcome, I think I should have added more yeast. Ironic, considering my previous history with yeast. I skimped on the yeast a bit because I only had self-raising flour, as opposed to the white flour stated in the recipe, but this caused it not to rise that much. Although I don't think that this was a huge mistake, as the bread still tastes good; it's probably a bit heavier texture-wise, but edible nonetheless. At the very least no-one has died yet, so I think my bad bread days may finally be over. Oh, and I would have included a picture of my culinary effort, but I left my camera back in my home town, and I'd feel like a cheat if I stole someone else's photo of it. 

Signing off, 

Nisa. 

Pamela; or Virtue Rewarded by Samuel Richardson

I kind of had this one coming. When I bought this, I had already heard that there were a few things about it that weren't popular opinions these days, usually for good reason. So I can't say that I wasn't expecting some instances of really unfortunate implications. I'm just not sure that I expected this. 

Oh boy, where to start with this one? Pamela is the story of a serving-girl, the eponymous Pamela, as she tries to protect her virtue against her less virtuous master. Remember, it's the 1740s. Chastity was something of a big thing back then. And to be honest, as a premise it's harmless enough. It's when we actually start reading it that the modern perspective brings up all sorts of issues that I feel I have to tackle. Firstly, there's the master. I didn't like him. It's hard to like someone when he propositions, attempts to rape and unlawfully detains a girl because she won't put out. I wouldn't necessarily mind that, and it does work in the first half. I say the first half. At the halfway point, the narrator decides that he's had a change of heart, so they get married. And she's more than okay with that. Need I explain why I find it a "jumping the shark" moment, if you will, when she's praising the great goodness of a man who has treated her abominably? Some of the other values in this book are a bit jarring as well, but that was my main niggling point. Secondly, there's Pamela herself. Don't get me wrong, she's a nice, sympathetic girl and I feel for her plight. My problem is that she's too nice, too good; at no point does she harbour any negative feelings against anyone else, despite how horrifically they treat her. There's virtuous, then there's too nice to physically exist. My final problem is the length. It's about 150 pages too long in my view. As I said, they decide to get married at about the halfway point (around page 250). Much as I don't like that scenario, it's a good place to end the novel: Pamela gets her man after working to improve him as a person. Maybe tie up some loose ends after the wedding. But no, instead we get another 250 pages of what is essentially Samuel Richardson following them whilst pointing and saying, "Hey, look at the two of them! Aren't they the most perfect couple that you have ever seen?" over and over again until I decide I can't take it anymore and knock him out. Granted, there was an interesting bit where Pamela's new sister-in-law goes a bit crazy and forces Pamela to dine with her, but that was one all too brief episode amongst the monotony of people practically singing Pamela's praises. It's probably why this took so long to finish, other than essays I had to write. But, despite the numerous and pretty huge problems that I've pointed out, I can't bring myself to dislike Pamela. Granted, I don't like it a huge deal, but it's pleasant enough. 

Overall, some major issues, but I would recommend this to anyone who is interested about the society of the time. Otherwise I would advise you to steer clear of this one. 3/5 

Next review: Henry VI Part One by William Shakespeare 

Signing off, 

Nisa. 

New Year and Birthday Retrospective

As of yesterday, this blog is one year old. Considering this, and the fact that it's now 2012, I decided to take a look back at what I've already done with the site and maybe look forward to consider what other changes could be implemented.

At the beginning of 2011, this site reviewed books chapter by chapter, in order to capture what I considered to be the most interesting of reactions, that of the initial, ignorant reader. As of six months ago, this is no longer the format, for a few reasons. Firstly, there was the factor that I mentioned when the format change went up at first, that of many chapters not containing particularly interesting events or concepts about which I could discuss. Secondly, I realised that some parts of a narrative can only be appreciated as a whole, after you've read the entire novel and then reflected on it. Finally, there is the factor that sometimes a book is better appreciated after a few days or a second reading, should there be enough time for it.

Since the format switch, it has been a more traditional review blog as it has focused on the whole book within a review. A much preferable system, if I say so myself. If I can get through more of my TBR list, I'm happy. So really I have no real complaints or points to bring up here.

I guess what I'd like to consider for the future would be the kinds of things that get brought up in reviews or whether it would be worth me writing other book-based features, like Top 5 countdowns or the like. If anyone has any suggestions, then I would love to hear them.

Until then, have a Happy New Year and I hope to hear from you.

Signing off,
Nisa.

The Hellbound Heart by Clive Barker

The image of Pinhead from the Hellraiser films is an iconic one, to say the least. So, while I don't particularly have the temperament necessary to enjoy most horror films, when I found the book that the Hellraiser films were inspired by I couldn't pass up the opportunity of reading them. And was it worth it? Well there are certainly worse things to pass the time with.

The Hellbound Heart is certainly a quick read, clocking in at only 128 pages. To be honest, that's all that the story really warrants, considering the simplicity of the material. The gist of the story is that a man named Frank discovers the solution to a puzzle-box that is rumoured to grant whoever solves it with pleasure beyond their wildest imaginings. What happens instead is that he is pulled into a parallel world by creatures called Cenobites, who provide him with moments of great pleasure amongst moments of torture and pain. The other main character of the story is Julia, Frank's sister-in-law, as she finds what is left of Frank and attempts to bring him back to the real world through the gift of blood. It's a short, but creepy little book. To be honest, there's not much to really add other than a quick summation of the plot. The characters aren't especially sympathetic, but then part of the fun is watching their selfishness and arrogance bring their doom upon them. It's not fantastic, but it does it's job quite well, bringing entertainment and visceral gore by the bucket-load along with some pretty nifty suspense. Perfect for a horror film then.

I'd elaborate, but there's not much to say really. A quick read that delivers what it set out to do and is very entertaining along the way. Perfect popcorn reading on a dark and stormy night. 3.5/5

Next review: Pamela by Samuel Richardson.

Signing off,
Nisa.

A Tale Etched in Blood and Hard Black Pencil by Christopher Brookmyre

The reason I picked up this book is incredibly shallow. I liked the title. There was really no other real reason: I read the title, thought the premise was interesting and so I bought it. I'd never heard of it or the author before, so I had no clue what I was in for. It was an interesting experience, to be sure.

The premise is an interesting one to be sure: a murder investigation is going on as the story alternates between the characters involved now and what they were like during primary and secondary education. For me, the idea of previous ideas about people, especially those that you knew as a child, affecting your present day interactions with them was really interesting. The experience overall has even made me reconsider how I view people that I went to school with. The main way that I can explain this is through the characters of Robbie and Martin. At the beginning, I hated Robbie. He was every bully in primary and high school that picked on me because I cared about learning concentrated in one person; but as the novel progressed, you find out that he acts like he does because he's trying to live up to the images of his father and elder brothers, all of them criminals of the worst kind and all of them considering him to be not worth the effort. By the end, Robbie was my favourite, because underneath he was this insecure guy who wanted to belong with someone. Then you have Martin, who actually reminds me a lot of myself. At the beginning, he's the conscientious boy who thinks that by being a nice guy life will be good to him. After school has ended, he's bitter and contemptuous of those who have bullied him for being smart, an attitude that I can understand perfectly. But in the modern day storyline, he's still treating his old schoolmates as he would have twenty years before, at the end of high school, after the majority of them have moved on and become different people, some for the better and others not. It made me think about my own attitude; there are still people that I would be terrified to meet in the street, even after three years have passed since high school, because my opinion of them is solely defined by how they bullied me. There are people that I haven't seen since primary school, whom I regard with utter contempt because of their attitudes, and although it seems an elementary thing, I had never considered what these people would actually be like if I met them now, as an adult. In some ways it's a humbling and disquieting feeling, but in other ways it's quite liberating; for years I have struggled to get close to people, simply because I never knew if I could trust them fully. I have been getting better, but the consideration that change is given here has made me think that there shouldn't be any real reason that I should be scared of people after finding out that they were mean as a child. It's a good feeling. Those two characters are only examples of the similarly stellar characterisation that carries the entirety of the novel.
As you can tell, I really like this book, even though I wasn't all that impressed at first. I probably should mention a couple of things about the writing that may well put people off reading it that I noticed along the way. First of all is the language used in dialogue: considering that the setting is in Scotland, there is the use of dialect to denote strong accents; this can be a tad confusing at times, especially with the slang, but a glossary is provided at the back, so this is catered to within the text (or at least it was in my edition). The other thing that I noticed was the use of the present tense. Personally I had no issues with it other that a little confusion at first, but I have seen quite a few people complain about it, so I thought it a good idea to mention it.

Overall, a slow starter that won me over completely with its complex characters and their individual development as people. Also probably the only murder mystery that has made me reconsider myself as an individual. 5/5

Next review: The Hellbound Heart by Clive Barker

Signing off,
Nisa.

The Aviary Gate by Katie Hickman

I'm still not quite sure what made me pick up this title. Historical fiction hasn't really turned up on my reading lists all that much, despite the fact that I do enjoy history a great deal. I suppose the setting might have been something to do with it: a harem in Constantinople in 1599. Not your standard setting for fiction set in Elizabethan times, to be sure. In any case, regardless of whatever reason I have for picking it up, was The Aviary Gate worth the intrigue? 

The Aviary Gate is the story of two women separated by 400 years. In 1599, there is Celia Lamprey, a English woman who is sold to the harem of the Ottoman Sultan after she is presumed dead. In the present day, there is Elizabeth Stavely, a student researching Celia's life as part of her thesis. I personally don't think that the two separate narratives really worked together. Don't get me wrong, they're both very good, very well-written story-lines; I just don't think they quite mesh together properly. Let me elaborate. In the Celia story-line, the focus is very much on intrigue and mystery, as Celia tries to figure out who poisoned the chief black eunuch, Hassan Aga, and how it could be linked to the English ambassadors outside the palace; the focus occasionally switches to Paul Pindar, an English merchant who was Celia's betrothed, as he tries to ascertain whether his lost love is in the Sultan's harem and if she is how he can rescue her from it. All in all, quite exciting stuff. You then have the modern story-line, which is completely different in tone. The main thrust in Elizabeth's story-line is her trying to escape and recover from an unhealthy relationship with one of the lecturers at the university she attends, as opposed to much actual research; this necessitates a slower tone, as you're looking at a person's internal growth and change, as opposed to the more frenetic pace needed for stories about political intrigue. As I said before, both are well-written stories, I just don't think that they really belong together, considering that they do use wildly different tones and paces; though I did like both stories, I thought that the modern day story lost out somewhat, as it seemed less interesting when compared to the more exotic and exciting Constantinople of 1599. 

As for characters, I must reiterate that the modern story suffers for being added on to the historical story, as the modern characters are nowhere near as interesting as the historical ones. The only ones of any real importance are Elizabeth and Marius, because they are the main character and the cause of her emotional growth respectively. Elizabeth is quite irritating at times, as she is quite weak-willed and responds to a relationship that is causing nothing but uncertainty and heartache for her, but is overall a nice character. Marius is your stereotypical unhealthy love interest, charming but ultimately selfish and inconsiderate. The real stars of the book are the characters in the historical plot-line. The main characters of note are probably Celia, Safiye and another character who I can't discuss without focusing on their role in the central mystery of the plot. Celia is what I would consider a model woman by Elizabethan standards: prim, proper, quite shocked by the customs of the harem and still devoted to the memory of the love that she can't reach whilst in the harem. Safiye is probably my favourite character in the entire novel, simply because of how cunning and crafty she is. Safiye is the Valide Sultan, the Ottoman equivalent of the Queen Mother, who makes it her business to know the goings-on of every woman in the harem, so that her position of power can stay secure for as long as possible; she is an example of the most fascinating part of the historical setting, namely how an individual can use slavery as a career opportunity by marrying into or creating alliances with important members of the Ottoman court. It is a little unsavoury by today's terms considering that this is essentially prostitution as well as slavery, but very interesting nonetheless. 

Overall, an interesting and well-written book, but the fact that two very different story-lines are included as one narrative drastically weakens what could have been a completely absorbing and intriguing novel. 3.5/5 

Next review: A Tale Etched in Blood and Hard Black Pencil by Christopher Brookmyre. 

Signing off, 

Nisa.