Short Book Reviews: Not the Beauty and the Beast You've Known

 The Language of Roses, by Heather Rose Jones (Queen of Swords)

I loved Heather Rose Jones’s “Alpennia” books, with all their derring-do, politics, and intelligent romance, so I grabbed her new book, The Language of Roses, without nary a glance at the description. It soon became clear to me that this was yet another (yawn) retelling of “Beauty and the Beast,” with hints that it will be a lesbian romance. But Jones is a thoughtful author who has never followed the predictable path, so I hung in there during the set-up as the eldest daughter of a merchant who foolishly plucks a rose takes his place in the home of a terrifying Beast and his icy sister, invisible servants and all. This daughter, unlike her boy-crazy sisters, has never fallen in love (hint, hint) and regards marriage as a duty or a financial agreement, with mutual respect and friendship the best she can hope for. Even if she is a stranger to romance, she loves her family deeply and is fearless and passionate in their defense.

From the very beginning, like a twining rose vine, Jones examines the nature and varieties of love. Is it more than intense, all-consuming physical attraction, and if so, how? The story kept remining me of the different hormones involved in infatuation (dopamine and norepinephrine) versus long-lasting, committed love (oxytocin). Jones doesn’t preach or descend into lengthy exposition on the neurochemical nature of love. Instead, she takes the reader on a journey of trust, comfort, cherishing, and self-sacrifice.

As a final note, I encourage readers to not judge this book as a solely a lesbian romance. If you do, and if you think that’s not for you, you’ll miss out on something remarkable. The characters are universally appealing, as are the emotions. There are enough plot twists and unexpected details to keep the pages turning. It’s an absorbing, rewarding read.

Very Short Book Reviews: A time-travel supernatural mystery thriller

The Lost Girls of Foxfield Hall, by Jessica Thorne (Bookouture)

Two very different women separated by sixty years of history – garden designer Megan in 2019 and heiress Ellie in 1939 – meet in a moonlit hedge maze. After the usual suspicions are allayed, they discover how much they have in common. The legendary Green Lady, who may or may not be Arthur’s Guinevere. Two stern women with the surname Seaborne, one an archaeologist in Megan’s time, the other a wartime secret service agent in the employ of Ellie’s father – or is it the same person? When Megan starts researching Ellie’s home, Foxfield Hall, she discovers that Ellie disappeared without a trace. Then it’s a race against the countdown to the date of that disappearance, for both women to discover the link between the supernatural feminine figures called Vala, the tunnel through time, and the fate not only of Ellie but of Megan herself.

A highly readable time-travel supernatural mystery thriller, The Lost Girls of Foxfield Hall hits all the notes perfectly with smooth prose, evocative details, compelling characters, and a superbly revealed mystery.

Short Book Reviews: Women Take Over Henry IV

Lady Hotspur, by Tessa Gratton (Tor)

The origins of Shakespeare’s Prince Hal (Henry IV, Parts I and II, Henry V) lie in late 14^th/early 15^th Century English history, although the Bard took considerable liberty in embellishing those events, not to mention creating a panoply of additional (and memorable) characters, Falstaff among them. The historical prince was involved in suppressing the Welsh revolt (c. 1400-1415), led his own army into Wales against Owain Glyndŵr, and fought Henry "Hotspur" Percy at the Battle of Shrewsbury (1403). It seems only fitting that since Shakespeare made free with actual history, other writers should take similar liberties both with the factual record and with Shakespeare’s inventions. Author Tessa Gratton takes both sources, turns them inside out, stands them on their heads, shoves them into a magical kingdom full of Arthurian references, and switches genders.

Lady Hotspur focuses primarily on the character of Prince Hal, in this case a woman, and Hotspur Percy, also a woman, who became passionate lovers early in the book. Politics pull them apart as the fallout from the coup that placed Hal’s mother on the throne of unfolds and the magically imbued island of Innis Lear moves toward rebellion. Banna Mora, who would have been next in line to the throne, and who has been a dear friend to Hal, ends up captive in the island kingdom of Innis Lear, then becomes instrumental in leading its struggle for independence. This may seem like a lot of action, not to mention political intrigue, but it’s spread out over many, many…many pages. Pages of character development, of shifting personal and international relationships, battles, skirmishes, magical workings, and of daily life.

I went through several phases in reading Lady Hotspur. At first I was delighted with the gender swap and the larger-than-life love affair between Hal and Hotspur. Then the pace slowed and I found myself dipping into the story, reading a little, then going off and reading something else, then coming back. Halfway through, the story caught fire for me. It drew me in, kept me turning pages, and held my rapt attention to the very end.

Novels can be “about” many things, and the forward energy can arise from different aspects. A character-driven story has quite a different “feel” from one centered on an idea (such as a mystery) or a plot/sequence of dynamic events (action/adventure). Lady Hotspur is as much about the magical sundering and eventual reunification of two lands as it is a political or military drama, or even a love story. Such a story, in which the world itself is the hero, demands a different pacing than other types of novels. Once I understood this, I was able to settle into a long, deep sojourn in this imaginary landscape.

This is apparently one of a series of Shakespearean-derived novels, which I wasn’t aware of when I read it. That said, it made no difference to me, and should pose no obstacle to the curious reader.