Review: The Sunrise, Victoria Hislop

This is Victoria Hislop's fourth novel and by this point it is very clear that she is a mistress of both substance and style.

Set in Famagusta, Cyprus, in 1972, the story opens with a rich, detailed and immersing description of Famagusta that is so picture-perfect it almost made me go to check out cheap flights for Cyprus (I held off). "Here was a glimpse of Paradise," Hislop writes, and I could certainly see it. The first few pages lay extensive groundwork that give the reader a secure sense of place, the better to understand the interweaving stories that follow. 

We are soon introduced to Savvas and Aphroditi Papacosta, a couple with a dream of building the most fabulous hotel in Famagusta (support by Aphroditi's father). Their vision is realised, in expensive, luxurious detail, and soon The Sunrise hotel becomes the place where anyone who is anyone wants to be. It seems set to be a perfect life for Savvas and Aphroditi, but for a few things. Aphroditi's mother is still heartbroken over the death of Aphroditi's brother, Dimitris, in the fighting between Greek and Turkish Cypriots eight years previously. This information being sown early on gives a nice undercurrent of bubbling tension - Savvas Papacosta works extremely hard to create a perfect image for his guests but there are some things even out of his control (not to say he doesn't try to fix that). 

We're soon introduced to a range of diverse and complex characters: Markos Georgious - Savvas' right-hand man - and the Georgious family; the Ozkans; and Frau Bruchnmeyer, whom came to Cyprus on holiday and never went back to Germany. At first their lives cross over but a little. However, as time goes on, and relationships and dynamics became complex - and even fraught - the cast of seemingly separate characters are drawn inexorably more and more into each other's lives, with little say so from them. 

This is none so evident as when the Turkish invade Cyprus and capture Famagusta. The bright, sprawling, jewelled of Cyprus becomes a ghost town, with but a few within - the Ozkans and the Georgious - whose lives become a fight for survival. The juxtaposition of their lives within The Sunrise, which becomes their refuge, and the narrative of life at the hotel before the invasion is startling. It is a refuge in both capacities, but for very different purposes.

Hislop gives us blue skies, golden beaches, love, heartache, thrill, fear, and more. Richly layered, this is a story one could read several times over and draw out something new each time. The main reason I will pick up anything by this author, even without knowing anything about the story, is that I can guarantee I will be entertained, moved, and be inspired to learn more about the bit of history she was woven within her narrative. Hislop's talent for writing compelling stories based on lesser known historical events is immense. If I could have read it in one sitting, I would have. A hugely enjoyable and moving read. 

Review: Way Station, Clifford D. Simak

This is the first book in a long time that I've read in one sitting. One factor is that it was 218 pages but mainly because it is just a really really good story - incidentally, the winner of the Hugo Award in 1964.

The book opens with a description of a devastating vista that we later learn was a scene of the American Civil War of which Enoch Wallace, our protagonist, is a survivor. The language is jarring and gorgeous: silence hanging over a place which, just moments before, had been home to screams and scorched earth.

The short first chapter is followed immediately by a conversation between two men whom work for the US government. One man, Claude Lewis, approached an Intelligence Agency to tell him of his work - namely, his spying on Enoch who lives on his family farm and seemingly does nothing. He also never seems to age, and of course they are curious. The chapter ends with an astonishing - but not yet revealed- discovery, before the viewpoint switches back to Enoch.

He, of course, is aware that he is being watched. He chooses to leave well enough alone. As the keeper of a Way Station for interstellar travel - he is the only human to know about alien existence -he knows the best thing to do is simply keep his head down. His story switches between present day and flashbacks, and it is cleverly done. Something will happen in his present that reminds him of an alien visitor he once had, or something he once did. Although the flashbacks are a large part of the book they never interrupt the flow and help build up a gradual picture of Enoch's life, which also explain better his present day dilemmas.

The story itself is set in the context of the Cold War, and one scene in the book shows Enoch poring over a map, convinced that a formula belonging to another alien race that helps predict global patterns must be wrong, since everything about it points to war. With the end of World War 2, particularly the atomic bomb, being but a recent memory, he knows how devastating it would be for the world to be drawn into another all out war, this time with destruction a hundred times worse.
It is also heartbreaking on another level, because to go to war again would be forever being barred from the galactic network, of which the Way Station is but a tiny part

The cast is small and well developed. In Enoch's neighbour, a coarse hillbilly family with a deaf-mute daughter (who possesses an ability towards the supernatural), we see a real juxtaposition of broadened horizons with their amazing potential and narrow-mindedness, bent towards violence and fear at anything out of the ordinary. In the postman, with whom Enoch talks every day, there is kindness, curiosity, and a kind of pity. In Claude Lewis, who later plays a major part, there is wonder and humility. And Enoch himself is a real mix - humble, lonely, welcoming, and secretive (for good reason). It's a wonder how in such a short space of time Simak manages to capture the struggle of the human condition, a plethora of deep human relationships, addressing of profound, eternal questions, and a simply great story to boot.

This is one of the best and most enjoyable reads, and a must for any Science Fiction fan.

The Banana Tree - a poem

The second of the poems I found from my exchange trip to Kenya, aka a 14 yo's experimentation with metaphor:

The banana tree, standing there in its splendour

Its leaves green,
Its trunk tall,
Its bananas, ripening ready for the picking.

But not many people see the wilting
When its leaves go brown

They don't realise the tree's subjects aren't truly living
As they should do

They don't realise the tree's subjects are wilting

The Market - A Poem

While clearing out some old paperwork I came across two poems that I wrote while on a Student Exchange trip to Kenya in 2004. The first, called 'The Market', was inspired by a drive we had in either Kisumu or Nairobi (it's been 11 years). Anyway, I think my fourteen-year old self was on to something ;)


Into the market they're there
Children, tapping on the sheet of glass separating you from them.

A riot of noise, people starting to sing and dance
Making a pathway for us
Making us feel like celebrities
People waving and shaking our hands,
All because of our skin
Being burned by a sweltering yellow star.

There's no room for what they consider to be lessers
Being shunned aside as if they're contagious
Trying to touch our skin to see if we are what we look like.

We see the fish hut
Rotten smells and tiny scavengers with wings catch our noses and eyes.
"That is our dinner," we say.

We emerge from the cool and brave the sweltering heat,
Climb back into the machine that will carry us out
Of the town.

Out of the market they're there,
Children, still tapping on the sheet of glass

Separating us from them.

Review: The Distant Echo, Val McDermid

What would you say if someone told you that the next time you went out on the lash, a series of unfortunate events would brand you as a murder suspect?

That's what happened to Alex, Mondo, Weird and Ziggy. Four friends studying at St Andrews university, taking some well-deserved time out at Christmas, happen upon the body of a young woman in a cemetery on a freezing December night. They recognise her as Rosie Duff, a barmaid in a pub they often frequent. They run for help... and end up being treated as suspects, not mere witnesses.


The book is split into two parts. Part 1 is the discovery of the murder and the initial investigation and the reopening of the case twenty five years later. During the first half of the book, though you know the main four characters are innocent, you find yourself questioning whether it was actually one of them because it is impossible to think about who else could have been responsible. Since they live in a small town, the four characters quickly become notorious and victims of abuse, particularly from Rosie Duff's brothers. They take any opportunity they can to deliver their personal brand of justice to those whom they believe to have taken their sister's life without caring about the consequences.

Part 2 is the reopening of the case for a "cold case review" and here we meet Graham McFadyen. He is Rosie's long-lost son who had been adopted since Rosie got pregnant with him as a teenager. He sets off on his own personal mission to avenge his mother.

The story was, overall, well-paced and interesting, although it felt a little dragging in places. This could have been simply because it was reflecting the tedium of every day life and the frustrating nature of police work. It picked up much more quickly during the last third of the book, and it becomes one of those cases where you are skimming to the point of skipping in your desperation to get to the "whodunnit". McDermid does a really good job of making you think who it is, who it must be, up until the last moment coming. I didn't see it coming a mile off, though now I wonder how I could have ever thought otherwise.

Overall, a really good, engaging read with well-rounded characters. The slow boil to the climax point and aftermath is well pitched. McDermid crafts a great story with plenty of suspense and insight into the motivation of a potential killer.

Review: Coastliners, Joanne Harris

If there is one thing this novel will tell you, it is that island life, no matter how picturesque the dressing, is far from romantic. Islanders can harbour the deepest of secrets, iron-clad bonds, and grudges that seem ancient as the Classics.

Le Devin, the setting of the book, is split into two sides: La Houssinière, prosperous, tourist-friendly, and claiming the most habitable part of the island; and Les Salants, a poor fishing village with little to recommend it to the tourists that descend on the island each year. It is no surprise that rivalry has existed between the two communities for as long as anyone can remember, mainly thanks to La Houssinière's complete control over the island's only beach, the main source of prosperity.

It is into this community that Mado, the book's protagonist, enters. Returning to the home that she left when she was small in order to care for her father, she quickly sees that Les Salants is suffering from an almost incurable sense of hopelessness, and desperately wants to wake it up. She meets Flynn, someone not from Le Devin but is treated as one of Les Salants, anyway, and tries to reacquaint herself with the small community. She quickly learns to distrust Claude Brismand, a La Houssinere entrepreneur who essentially seeks to own the whole island, and openly allies herself with Les Salants with the hope that in doing so, they will allow her to help them rejuvenate their part of the island.

It's easy to get swept along in Harris' evocative style, despite the oppressiveness that you can feel at the lack of hope in Les Salants. You can almost taste the salty air, feel the crisp breeze, and your heart aches at the thought of the Les Salants community dying because no one knows how to fix it, or is willing to find out why. However, Harris gradually starts to inject hope like a drip feed. Mado finds out what is happening to the beach and works with Flynn to find a solution; the beloved Saint, lost in the sea at her own festival, miraculously returns; the rivalries within Les Salants itself is put aside for the sake of banding together and doing what they can to put Les Salants on the map. But just when everything is going swimmingly, disaster strikes. Betrayals, hurts, secrets come out into the open and you wonder why they bothered putting in the effort in the first place.

It's a story that can never have a true ending, only a kind of pause, and Harris chooses the pause well. It's difficult to say goodbye to the characters, for whom you feel admiration and pity in equal measure, as you want to know that they're going to be okay. Yet, their lives will go on; it's just unfortunate that we don't get to witness it.

Review: Chocolat, Joanne Harris

This is an old favourite that I pick up every once in a while, but had never reviewed properly. I read it again whilst on a coach to London for a school trip just before Easter - let's just say the journeys there and back were long enough for me to complete the whole book on those two legs!

Vianne Rocher and her daughter, Anouk, arrive in Lansquenet-sous-Tannes on the day of a merry carnival, just before the Lenten period begins. Vianne and Anouk travel where the wind takes them, and may have even passed through Lansquenet in favour of another location had the carnival not enabled them to take notice. Anouk is begging to stay and Vianne agrees. They rent a property and work on opening a Chocolaterie, much to the dismay of the local priest, Reynaud. On the surface, the ensuing battle seems to be between tradition versus change, but as the story progresses it becomes much deeper - as Reynaud sees it, the might of the Church being challenged by pagan beliefs that he believes will tear his flock away. Vianne hopes that the two could live side-by-side but she is not naive. She knows what her choices can cost in such a tight-knit, devout (on the surface) community. Nevertheless, she sticks to her choices and makes great friends. She becomes instrumental in the transformation of people and relationships - Josephine Muscat, Armande and her grandson, and much-needed welcome to the travelling community who stop briefly in Lansquenet, much to the dismay of Reynaud and his cronies. She quietly shakes things up and encourages people to think differently - not necessarily swaying them from their beliefs but merely to look at things for themselves rather than through Reynaud's lenses. It's a good lesson to anyone with faith or no faith, and certainly was to me. 

From the very first page, this book is a feast for the senses. Everything that Harris describes, you wish it were in front of you at that moment to devour. She blends in magical, ancient twists to the very process of Vianne's chocolate-making - Vianne relates how her mother would have decried this as a waste of talent, but Vianne is content. She knows it makes people happy, and, moreover, it makes her happy. This time around reading the book made me wish even more that I could find Vianne, drink some of her hot chocolate, have her guess my favourites and show me something that I'm missing. There are so many ways to read this book, so many messages you can take from it. It's one of those stories where you can find something different with each read. Most certainly a keeper for the bookshelves, and the soul.