Review: A Spy in the House, by Y.S. Lee

A Spy in the House, the first book in The Agency/Mary Quinn Mystery series feels like a rarity in the realm of Young Adult fiction. Whereas virtually every other series of books you might find in the YA section involves either some form of magic or a futuristic dystopia, the books in The Agency series are a throwback. They are like Nancy Drew for modern times, though ironically they are set in the Victorian era.

A Spy in the House might also be considered a crossover novel. The writing is unflinching in telling of the exploitation and violence that stalked the lower classes and outsiders of Victorian England. It's also handled in a mature way that can appeal to both adolescents and adults. While Y.S. Lee's debut borrows heavily from some cliches (e.g. the orphaned heroine), she also takes it in some refreshing new directions, which I'll get into beyond the jump. Any attempt to simplify or categorize the book doesn't really do it justice, however. Quite simply, the story works because it is fun and engaging.

Lee uses her background as a scholar of Victorian literature to good effect in telling the story of Mary Quinn, a street urchin who is saved from hanging by a reform school. After progressing through the school to become a teacher, she gains the knowledge that the school is actually a front for a secret agency. Lee knows the particular expectations that Victorian society places on women.  So the agency carries out work that women have the distinct opportunity to do: to blend in, be unnoticed and unheard.

She offers historical details of daily life that flavour the narrative. She tries for a formalness in the dialogue without belabouring it. Though it sometimes errs a bit on the colloquial side, it strikes a fine balance between historical accuracy and accessibility. The author extends this crossing between the historical period and our time by having characters with seemingly modern sensibilities. This might feel like a cheat, but as Lee herself points out that this is fiction in the jacket notes:

If a top secret women's detective agency existed in Victorian England, it left no evidence - just as well, since that would cast serious doubt on its competence. The Agency is a totally unrealistic, completely fictitious antidote to the fate that would otherwise swallow a girl like Mary Quinn.

There were other aspects of Lee's writing that had more mixed results. It was nice to have second third person narrative POV rather than rely on the tried and true first person so common these days. However doing so early on in the story eliminated a potential source of mystery and tension in this second character. I also didn't get sense that Mary had a particularly major role in resolving the case, but that also seems in line with an agent's first mission and it will be interesting to see how active she becomes in later novels. The dysfunctional Victorian family at the heart of the mystery wasn't fleshed out fully, with somewhat nebulous motivations and reactions. The story also relied on some coincidence along the way, although the largest coincidence did not really affect the plot but added layer of motivation for the heroine.

The most striking aspect of A Spy in the House requires a minor spoiler alert to discuss.

Review: Red Sky, Black Death, by Anna Timofeyeva-Yegorova

Translated by Margarita Ponomariova and Kim Green

As a source of stories and ideas, is there anything that can compare to World War II? Its scale and impact was so monumental, it seems every type of conflict affecting people from all walks of life and all corners of the world, every moral dimension and literary archetype can be drawn from the real life experiences of the war. For a time period that has been covered as extensively as it has been by our popular culture over the past six decades, there still seem to be limitless supplies of new and compelling stories to be mined from its depths.

The most recent example I've encountered is also one of the best military memoirs I can recall reading. Red Sky, Black Death is the story of Anna Yegorova, a ground attack pilot who fought for the Soviet Union during World War II. The book traces her youth, from her time as a proud communist worker building the Moscow underground, to becoming one of the world's only female attack plane pilots, finally ending with her struggle against the shameful stigma placed on her by Stalin's policies as a former prisoner of war. The Soviet Union was the only country to officially recruit women for combat duty during the war. Even having read numerous first hand accounts and non-fiction books on the subject of Soviet women combat pilots, Yegorova's story still surprised and enthralled me in equal parts.

First and foremost, what stands out is the quality of writing and translating. Yegorova's experiences are interesting enough on their own, however, given the length of time that has passed, it could easily devolve into either unlinked snippets of memories or a grocery list of events. It is neither of these things. The book is a story and it holds together a clear sense of events as they happened, sometimes sprinkling with intimations of the future and how the recollections linger in the present. The narrative momentum never falters. Further making her telling stand out is her unusual openness about the contradictions in Soviet life at the time. Many similar memoirs suffer from excessive influence from Soviet era propaganda that the authors' experienced, or simply gloss over the political realities. But having bitterly confronted her own brother's persecution during one of Stalin's purges as well as her own after the war, Yegorova gives us a fully formed notion of the cruel ironies of risking and sacrificing so much country she loves that is ruled by such a repressive system.

What would have served to improve the book would have been an appendix, which could clarify the progression of time and place during the narrative (a bare bones timeline is offered as a preface.)

Still, this is a personal record, and it stands with the best military memoirs from the war. I am very happy that this book has found an English translation, as it sheds light on several little known (in the Western world at least) corners of the World War II canon. It is such a rarity not only as a memoir of the Soviet experience, but also of a woman in combat.

 (out of 5)

Review: The Kassa Gambit, by M.C. Planck

"You should totally judge a book by its cover." That was the advice of a friend back in college when recommending fantasy and sci-fi novels. This was in the days before the ubiquitous blogs, review sites, Amazon recommendations and tweets helped us to pick out our next read (I'm severely dating myself, aren't I?)

Review: Ghost on the Throne, by James Romm

When reading a book on true history, I find that the notes sections are often what makes the overall quality of the work shine through. If I feel compelled to read through the notes, this tells me a few important things. It usually means that the work is well researched, and allows the notes to present a clear basis for the author's statements, as well as alternative interpretations of the evidence. Well written notes give enough context that I don't feel the need to annoyingly flip back and forth between sections. Most importantly, if I'm spending time reading through the notes, it means I didn't want the story to end.

The best non-fiction works have a strong narrative without sacrificing academic rigour. My favourite work of this kind, Batavia's Graveyard, by Mike Dash, is an excellent example of a book I did not want to put down, even while reading the notes. Ghost on the Throne, by James Romm, also passes this test and is easily the best non-fiction book I've read this year. 

Review: The Lies of Locke Lamora, by Scott Lynch

It's hard not to be too effusive about this novel, Scott Lynch's debut.  It is a great read that stands out moreso for being the author's first published effort and became an immediate favourite of mine.

The strength of this novel, I think, is based on a very detailed, fully-realized world that Lynch has built, although that worldbuilding, ironically, is also one of this novel's weak points (more on that later).  Through the novel, there are intricately fleshed out details about the economy, art, cuisine and sport and leisure interests of the world's inhabitants.  There is always a sense that the characters live in a real world.  Lynch takes this one step further and imbues even minor characters with personalities and interesting histories.  Different characters take on roles of hero or villain at different times and are driven by rational motivations.

Review: The Bird of the River, by Kage Baker

The Bird of the River is the third and final book in Kage Baker's fantasy cycle.  It was released posthumously and is a fitting farewell from the author.  Returning to the world created in The Anvil of the World, Baker returns to that first novel's breezy feel and anachronistic humour that made it such an unusual and enjoyable fantasy read.