Book Review: Voodoo Doll by Leah Giarratano

by Uncategorized

it took me until the end of the book to realize why it’s called voodoo doll, and now I feel a bit sick..

Giarratano is a clinical psychologist and her second novel delves deep into sadism and victim hood. It’s the story of Jill, a damaged cop whose carefully controlled life is thrown out of orbit when she’s assigned a new precinct and a new partner, the enigmatic and clever Gabriel who has a rough past of his own. its the story of Joss and the life he made with his family after a reckless adolescence and the horrors or war and of Cutter, a boy forced into a life of depravity who threatens to take everything from Joss and from anyone else who gets in his way.

The story is brutal and unflinching in its atrocities. Giarratano has truly seen the full gamut of what humans can do to each other and doesn’t hold back from describing torture, sexual sadism, self mutilation and assault. It’s a book that turned my stomach on some pages, but at the same time, it seems an honest recounting. This is what the police deal with, what veterans and doctors and victims and psychologists must deal with on a daily basis.

The book does go over and over Jill’s kidnapping, but in a way that makes you feel sorry for her-you can easily imagine that those events run through her head constantly. You can empathise with these characters, despite their flaws. You understand why Joss drinks. Why Jill runs. Everyone becomes real, even the desperate old school mate in the bar who speaks with a voice that can be found in every seedy bar around Australia at closing time. It’s a hard read, but there is compassion there.

Giarratano had me in the edge of my seat (well, pillow) for most of this book, but I felt like the ending was a bit rushed. Why set the house on fire and then go upstairs to kill people rather than the other way around? Why would Cutter go to the house in Mosman when. It was so obvious the cops would be there? It’s as if Giarratano knew the book was at risk of carrying on forever, but losing all momentum if she didn’t end right there. Still, if you can handle the violent imagery (Warning: there are LOTS of childhood trauma/assault/rape triggers, so read in a safe place if you’re at risk) and you want an interesting read (the attention to detail in the psychology is awesome, not so much with regard to the police work) then give this a go. I think I have her debut, Vodka Doesn’t Freeze somewhere too, but I can’t remember if I’ve read it.

Apologies for any typos- I’m on my tablet at 1.40am with no contact lenses in so cut me some slack and send me new books!

Book Review: The Left Hand of God by Paul Hoffman

by FantasyFictionWarning: Violence

Don’t run away yet, I promise this is a fantasy novel and not something dogmatic!

The left hand of god is about a boy called Thomas Cale, who was raised in an eerie and violent monastery to become a weapon against the unfaithful. Beaten, humiliated and punished often without warning, Cale is a brutal and unforgiving child, an expert in combat who feels no fear and can predict any move an opponent makes. So when he sees a young girl about to be grotesquely murdered by a redeemer priest, no one is more surprised than Cale when he risks his life to save her. He is forced to go on the run with two other acolytes and the girl, escaping the Sanctuary and making their way across the treacherous scablands to the city of Memphis.

Accused of murder and imprisoned, Cale quickly proves his skill as a warrior and tactician, becoming a vital player in the political battles of Memphis. He falls in love with the Marshal’s daughter, Arbell Swan-neck, embarrasses the pride of the Materazzi army and befriends the out of favour half brother of the Lord Chancellor. His devil may care attitude and dour reticence mean Cale (and his rather unwilling friends) are constantly in trouble, but when Arbell is kidnapped by the Redeemer army it is only Cale who can bring her back alive. But maybe it’s not Arbell that the Redeemers are really after.

This book is gritty, bloody and in some parts so witty that it made me laugh out loud. Richard and I have been discussing pain in fantasy and how some authors (cough Ian Irvine cough) dispense punishments and pains to characters that couldn’t possible survive it. We are fragile creatures after all (And no, I will not be reviewing any of Ian Irvine’s books any time soon, I did read them, but they are far too gory for me).The left hand of god is different – yes, the characters suffer excruciating pain, but only the ones who have been conditioned to harshness (those who grew up in the sanctuary and IdrisPukke who has spent years running, hiding and being shot at) actually survive it.

I also liked the scene where Cale battles Solomon Solomon. As a duel, it’s much more realistic than many I’ve seen, where the author wants to give the character a fluffy, merciful side. Cale has no softness. Even his feelings towards Arbell are tempered with violence, confusion and pain. Cale does not know mercy, because he has never seen it. When he does something, there is always more motivation than just doing the right thing – when he saves Simon from the boys in the yard, it’s more because he hates the boys than because he feels pity for Simon. When he pulls Conn from the battlefield, even Cale cannot say why he’s done it. Even when he rescues Arbell from the Redeemers, he is expecting a hero’s welcome and great recognition on his return. Cale is not a nice boy. He is not honourable or merciful or even good. But he is not bad either.

This book has some horrific moments. If you are at all squeamish, I suggest you miss pages 368 – 372. But if you do read it and decide that such a scene is too horrible to be realistic, I’ll remind you that a nearly identical method was used by Turkish troops during the Armenian genocide to wipe out the entire population of villages – human beings can be just as terrible as anything you’ll find in the left hand of god.

Wikipedia tells me the next book in this series is coming out soon. It’s called The Last Four Things. I’ll probably read it and it will probably haunt me for a few days like this book has. But it’s worth the reading – Paul Hoffman‘s style runs on and on, never stopping and never slowing and when he does backtrack, it’s deftly woven into the storyline so you don’t feel like you’ve lost time or track in going backwards. The violence is unforgiving and the politics are… well, political and if you like that kind of thing then you’ll enjoy it and if you don’t then your eyes will glaze over a little bit like mine did. Same with the battle tactics. Both (politics and battle tactics) are well researched, but not my cup of tea. The only other problem I had with this book are the obvious lines leading to a sequel. I like to be surprised by reapperaing characters in sequels – ones that pop up and you go ‘oh! Wow! I’d completely forgotten about that guy!’ In this story, characters like the boy who survives the village massacre are simply turned loose and you are left thinking ‘gee, I wonder how long before he turns up again’. But apart from these small irks (and it’s mostly me being picky), this book is a good read that is a bit like a car crash – horrific, but you can’t turn away from the page!

437 pages. Published in 2010 by Penguin (Michael Joseph).

PS: I found this, which I think is a really clever way of using visual media to advertise a book.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmeDvY7s2F0&w=560&h=349]

Book Review: Black Sea Twilight by Domnica Radulescu

by Author LoveFictionHistory

I like books about misplaced histories. What happened in Romania under Ceausescu, the Armenian Genocide, India immediately after the British withdrew, Haiti after the revolution – all these events that happened and impacted thousands and have somehow been glossed over in history books and swept under the rug. Romania has always held a macabre fascination for me, I think mostly because I have lived all my life in Australia, where at most our political systems is laughable and at least we pay nothing for education and food is abundant. We are spoiled and fat and with the exception of what happened to the Aboriginal people during settlement, Australia has been lucky.

I don’t know enough to get into some political diatribe about Communism and security and nationalism and civil war and I liked that Black Sea Twilight doesn’t spend hours trying to negotiate the history of the Ceausescu dictatorship. Instead, it simply tells what was happening inside the country from the point of view of a young girl who is struggling to be an artist, struggling to be a daughter, a sister, a lover, a Romanian. As Nora juggles these roles, the story moves along at a frenetic pace. First Nora is fifteen and about to discover her passion for art and for the boy she has grown up alongside, a Muslim Turk named Gigi. When the pair rescue a melancholic and beautiful french tourist from drowning, Nora realizes that she must act in order to hold onto her loves and begins to paint the divine and grotesque images she has in her head. Life under Ceasescu is getting more and more unbearable, as Nora’s twin brother Valentin returns from Bucharest and Nora suffers septicemia after procuring an illegal abortion which brings her family and all those around her under government suspicion. When Nora, Gigi and Valentin all have their university applications knocked back after her and Gigi unwittingly overhear military secrets, Nora knows she must leave Romania and make her way to Paris where she can be free to live and love and make art.

After two years lost and alone in Istanbul, Nora finds herself in Paris once again saving the tragic Anushka from herself. She enters into the university of art and finds new friends, but she longs for the freedom of her beloved Gigi, to see her brother and family again. In discovering unspoken truths about her new friends – Anushka, the circus girl Didona who once broke her brother’s heart and the motherly Agadira – Nora finds herself learning more about herself, her art and what she is going to become. Finally the Romanian revolution overthrows the dictatorship and Nora is free to speak with her Mama and see her brother perform in concert. But so much has changed, not only within Nora herself, but with the country she fled and the love of her life who has been on his own hard journey. There is no going back, but what life are they going forward into?

This book doesn’t stop. Told in first person by Nora with dialogue both spoken and implied, this novel allows you not only into Nora’s life, but into her very soul. Colours and shapes and sensations come alive thanks to Radulescu’s beautiful and frenzied prose. Although in some instances it is difficult to keep track, this adds to the narrative – When Nora arrives in Istanbul, ill, suffering from amnesia and uncertain even of the language she is speaking, the scene and language picks you up and carries you on a bizarre carnival ride of emotion and longing and confusion and art. When Agadira and Nora are nursing Anushka through the ravages of heroin withdrawal, it seems as though time condenses into a long twilight with no sleep and no awake and no beginning and no end, which only serves to elaborate the desolation and suffering of Anushka and the desperation of her nurses. The tag line on this copy of the novel says it is “a spellbinding story of escape and self-discovery”. and I certainly found myself captivated, dizzied and gloried by it, enthralled by the sense of history and more than a little in love with Nora for all her strengths and weaknesses. I’m certainly on the look out for Radulescu’s other novel, Train to Trieste.

Review: I’m watching you by Karen Rose

by CrimeFiction

I have a confession to make. I love trashy crime novels. Something about the combination of lurid sex scenes, gore and suspense just totally does it for me. Especially if it involves a sassy-yet-secretly-damaged female lead and a gorgeous-strong-and-silent-type male. Especially if there is sexual tension for half the book and constant smooching for the rest.

It’s bad fiction. It’s an anathema to literature. And I can’t get enough.

I know that Karen Rose’s books do have a reading order, but it’s fairly loose. The books of hers that I have read have linked together in a way which makes them perfect as stand alones or in sequence – this particular novel is linked to You Can’t Hide (Aidan Reagan, Abe’s Brother) and Nothing to Fear (Dana Dupinsky, Mia Mitchell’s friend) and probably others that I haven’t read. I love the idea of coming back to characters I’ve met before, while being introduced to new ones. This technique means Rose’s books are new and fresh, but with some familiar faces and stomping grounds.

I’m watching you is the story of Kirsten Mayhew, a prosecutor who feels each loss in the courtroom keenly as she pours her whole life into her job. Abe Reagan is also a man living for his work, after the murder of his wife Debra left him hollow and angry. When a serial killers starts targeting criminals who escaped justice ay Kirsten’s hands, Abe and his new partner Mia Mitchell are put on the case. Soon Kirsten and Abe fall in love despite their best intentions, but can he protect her against the growing number of criminals crying for her blood, a vindictive reporter who will stop at nothing to get her scoop and a vigilante killer who dedicates each kill to Kirsten?

Of course he can, but you already knew that. Karen Rose’s novels do have happy endings. The characters always realize that they were meant for each other. The bad guys always end up dead or in jail. And if a few bystanders get shot or maimed along the way, well then you’ll know they wont appear in the next book. It’s crime lite and while there is gore aplenty and enough suspense to make me stay up past my bedtime in order to finish, these books do focus heavily on the romance and s-e-x. Don’t worry – the sex scenes are juicy, realistic and not overly corny. No turgid members here! This attention to detail is also put to good use in character development – Rose’s novels are filled with single mums, single dads, grandparents raising children, dedicated professional types who work long hours and mobsters who just have their families best interests at heart. The main characters and their occupations are documented faithfully, their neurosis are well researched and believable and if everything wraps up a little too neatly at the end, rather than giving up on the series, I’m more inclined to sigh and think “god I wish my life was like that. Maybe I should become a lawyer..”