Undisputed master of epic storytelling… chock full of issues both social and psychological, vibrant rich vocabulary sketching depictions of love and thunderstorms, mountain ranges and outrageous injustice, delivering a cast of beloved Dickens-style characters possessing of crooked heart—as it writhes and rises from the smoggy docks of London—and the purest of saintly angels waiting patiently by the hedgerows of life’s gardens for the invitation to live.

It’s not the story alone that captures the imagination. No. The story is but half the appeal, possibly less. It’s the craft of pen in descriptive phrasing, unmatched in irony and humour, delightful caricature and the ability to draw the reader into 200-year old settings in a word. This is a masterpiece in Dickens’ teeming gallery of artwork.

Dang. What a surprisingly interesting and FUN read!! Went in not expecting much—maybe even a bit sceptical—and well, I was super pleased with this novel through and through. Read it in one sitting! So entertaining!! (Okay, I listened to the audiobook while cleaning and doing laundry—and while it was initially annoying that the narrator can’t do a Scottish accent to save her life, it became a bit of a moot point as the plot washed in and absorbingly masked the deficiency.)

While not deeply technical nor by any means an astounding labyrinth of a whodunnit, this was loaded with fun bits: time-travel, a slice of the macabre, some mystery, intrigue, hints of romance, loads of feminist commentary and teeming with Victorian historical context without feeling like an info-dump—and the ending is perfectly not dragged out leaving us wanting more.

Added bonus: 
—a Canadian author with Canadian modern ti(m)dbits and references scattered throughout! 🍁

Can’t wait for the second instalment!

Why does it have to be over…? 

This story, the whole 7 books worth of it, will always be a favourite to return to no matter my age. A perfect blend of well-crafted plot and characters, the charmed setting of a fantasy world nestled right between our own gardens yet exploding with wonder, and an ending that doesn’t tie up all the loose ends to every person’s part in the story, but allows the imagination to circle and wander over potential futures and possibilities.

These books are gems and will never grow old. 

With this, Mattea and I have finished the 2022 Harry Potter challenge (well, she finished long before me) and it’s the perfect kind of ending to a book— one that leaves your soul soaring and your heart satisfied and your imagination running wild.

I still maintain, Severus Snape is the best, most complex, most difficult to like yet compelling to love character written in the 20th century.

Adolescence progresses though dark stages, and Harry perpetuates this reality. We dive deeper into the confusion of contradictory appearances, the facades of things we think we know and things unseen, and we are slowly (but not yet) made aware of what true humility really looks like, though as it does not defend itself it will always be mistaken for something else.

Relationships solidify while they appear to crumble. Trust and faith are challenged and strengthened, even while doubted and broken. Love is root and realm; even as masked by protective distances and misunderstandings.

Snape, man. Is he just the most incredibly well-written character of the century? Who compares…?

Oh, I’m tempted to give this one 4 stars… I might just. Eventually…maybe…

When I open the pages of these books (or begin the audiobook) I know it’s going to take at least 25h to finish. 25h of leaving what I’m doing and where I’m at—apart from menial think-less tasks—and going back in time and far from place to live another life.

But I want that life to be full of adventure and intrigue, thwarted love and impossible love, an historical backdrop that piques my interest and sets my heart racing, and wild and fantastic characters that pain me, make me laugh, claw at my emotion, bring me joy…

I’m not much interested in the goings-on of the American Revolution. The snippets of it that come between these pages are offered up as setting to serve the progress of relationships we’ve invested in over the thousands of pages we’ve read in the lives of Jamie & Claire and their family. It’s a family saga that keeps on going as long as there’s life in their bones, blood in their veins. We’ve come to expect there will always be more story. Some of the story moves us more than other bits, and some of it we don’t really care much about—I realise that varies for readers, but it always comes back to Jamie & Claire, and that’s the story that really draws us all in. We always want more of that. Just maybe not so much of it during this particular dragging sort-of-war.

This story lulled a little in the middle, and for fair bouts that nearly exceeded my tolerance. Too bad for that. However, we ended on an exciting adventurous note as expected. Many things are tied up satisfactorily, while other things smash wide open at the end, rousing continued interest and lifting hopes it doesn’t take a decade for the next book to be written and published.

We who are reading beyond the initial intriguing Outlander novel, committing to even read 900+ pages each in novels #5-#9 in a series like this, must love these stories and adore the continued saga. You wouldn’t read if you didn’t, so she’s writing for die-hard fans at this stage. We all admit the first 3 (maybe 4) books were the best, but perhaps we can’t all identify why. I suggest that there’s something to be said for the power of setting; we were in Scotland, France, and the West Indies for the most part in the first 4 books, in an era of great historical interest, turmoil and action—and there was room for beautifully complex characters like Geillis, Dougal, Murtagh, Master Raymond, and even King Louis XV and Charles Stewart—whereas in these last number of additions we’ve been stuck waiting for something (anything) to happen in America and rotating between the same old stories of waning (even some lacklustre) characters (apart from J&C, it must be said) for far too long. As I said, I’m not much interested in the American Revolution, and the setting of North Carolina, while it might be a constant source of delight to some, leaves me shrugging and unimpressed. Meh. As I said, that’s personal, but setting is huge for me—take me back to Scotland, please!

I was delighted with all the insight on eco/zoo-ology and other science-y bits present in these pages, but I’m the reader waiting for more inclusion of 18th CE marine biology…waiting…it’s gotta happen sometime soon…

Now, here you go…

This man and I were definitely born out of sync by about 50 years. I feel though, if there’s a 90+ year old in the world I could be serious best friends with—it’s Sir David Attenborough. He is an inspiration, an encouragement, a light in a world clouded over with looming pollution. He doesn’t have the answers for everything, and he’s humble enough to admit he’s been an unwitting part of the problem, but he does his best to think and wonder at possible solutions for the turmoil we have created in the last indulgent century. And he thinks big for the corporations and governments, and he thinks small and practical for the people like me who can only do wee bits to reverse climate damage. He manages—after all is said and done and we’re left weeping with remorse, repentant of our selfish treatment of this gift of earth with which we’ve been so blessed—he manages to create hope for the next generation. We can restore this planet, but we have to work together, we have to be committed.

All Sir David wants to do here is give a witness statement to what he’s seen in his almost century of a lifetime. But his testimony leaves us reeling with the realities and compelled to engage in change for the better, for the future.

I’ve read the book, watched the full length feature documentary and the mini series, and the only thing left is to meet this man. I wish. And I wish could introduce him to my 11 year old niece. They think a lot alike…

Now, here we go…

This was a fast read. Airplane novel quality, did a fairly good job on the multiple perspectives (not easy with varied voices) which is the best compliment I can give, but the crime was both cliché and completely far-fetched. Far-fetched is nice in some fiction, but since this was trying to also be real/relatable it made me bust giggles where I’m sure it wanted me to go goggle-eyed with hand-to-mouth in shock. The outcome was highly predictable, but the surrounding details also left me rolling my eyes in “oh come off it”—ness. Reminiscent of a ‘cosy murder’ television episode I’d watch with my pensioner parents, only with oodles of bad language here you wouldn’t find coming out of Ms Marple or Hercule Poirot’s mouths.

What a beautiful tribute to a horrible reality.

Gaynor’s writing is sparse in places, unsentimental, and true to the very English character of Elspeth Kent, a stalwart and no-nonsense missionary school teacher. Yet the story is not only told by Elspeth, and in the alternating chapters, the voice of the preteen girl rings with authenticity, even expressing the strange reality of Nancy’s lonely and awkward situation.

I felt a personal affinity with Elspeth as a teacher, and as a missionary who worked for the China Inland Mission, as I have done both (though not in China, and they’ve changed their name since Mao’s day when they got the final boot). I heard some of these stories first hand from the generation who lived through Chefoo’s occupation and relocation, through the aftermath of WWII in Asia, and the efforts of the CIM to continue their great work in Asia. I remember retired missionaries and grown children recounting their own horrors, and I’ve read and taught the beautiful story of Eric Liddell on numerous occasions. This novel was like being taken back to some of the people I knew, to their place in time as they told it, but with new eyes, a different perspective, another angle of a familiar story.

…a beautiful tribute highlighting the joys and light of humanity in some truly horrific times…

This one might be my favourite of the whole series. Fifteen is such a fantastic age. It’s chock full of the deepest spiritual struggles, often the age when teenagers make a life-decision based on convictions, budding abilities, and heartfelt desires that will guide them through to adulthood. We see this happening with Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, and even Draco Malfoy. They set stakes in their own paths that will guide them in the future from this point onwards. And at this stage, they choose which way they will go morally as well, despite the internal voices that taunt or persuade otherwise. Their heroes fall and their ideals are smashed, but they generate hope among one another and never lose sight of a greater vision no matter the extent of discouragement. It’s at this age they begin to become an encouragement even to their mentors. The pupils begin teaching their instructors. And their teachers, regardless of status and knowledge, are humble (and full of good humour) enough to keep on learning too.

Such super characters written in this series. I maintain that Severus Snape is one of the greatest characters of fiction written in the twentieth century, but he’s only just beginning to unfold his complexities to us now…second reading through is a magical treat…

Another incredible work from Ms Vermette full of authentic voices from the streets next door whispering the pains of our neighbours. In response to one of our most concerning National crises in Canada, Vermette writes the stories of our forgotten indigenous women. She speaks with voices who are tired of crying out for too many generations, neglected and unwilling victims of a flawed system they never asked for, and Vermette tells harsh truth with grace and offers hope for the future generations of Métis, other indigenous, and the Canadian descendants of non-indigenous settlers.

I love how this woman says what must be heard. I’d put her work on the curriculum, and fast. Give her another award, but I’m sure what she’d rather is that the country would listen, listen… listen carefully and hear what has been done, and hear what needs doing, and offer support and mend relationships so that reconciliation can happen, so that change can begin where change needs to take place.

Note: in justification of authenticity, I believe the voice of Phoenix, a young, oppressed, defensive teenager, has to sound harsh and offensive, with exactly this kind of foul language and shocking base vocabulary. I encourage the sensitive reader to gain comprehension of the experience of someone like Phoenix in her own voice and not a watered-down version, to listen humbly despite personal preferences, setting aside sensitivities in order to listen, to hear what’s being said through the wall of words cast high to shield the person saying it, a person calling for help, longing to be seen, yet loathing every pang that makes her so transparently vulnerable. The language used is not without purpose. If we spend more time loving the marginalised youth of an oppressed nation we might get beyond the so-called offensive language to the genuinely offended heart …and then we might even touch a spirit with love.