Short Book Review: Character-Driven Time Travel Romance

Death at a Highland Wedding (A Rip Through Time Novel) by Kelley Armstrong (St Martins)

Death at a Highland Wedding is the fourth installment in  Kelley Armstrong's “Rip Through Time” time-travel novels that feature modern-day homicide detective Mallory Atkinson, who has slipped 150 years into the past to Victorian Scotland. By now, three books later, she's developed meaningful relationships with the people around her and is using her training as an assistant to undertaker Dr. Duncan Gray and Detective Hugh McCreadie. That’s all the backstory a reader needs, since Armstrong skillfully weaves in the relevant material as the plot unfolds. The important thing is that Duncan and Hugh, along with Hugh’s independent-minded sister, Isla, know Mallory’s true identity and trust her investigatory skills.

Now the four are off to a beautiful highland hunting lodge for the wedding of Hugh’s younger sister. All is not well, however. The new gamekeeper has been laying traps that threaten not only local wildlife but the poor folk accustomed to traveling freely over the estate. Soon, Mallory and her friends are caught up in a series of increasingly bizarre mysteries that culminate in the murder of one of the guests, for which the inexperienced young constable arrests the groom.

The combination of time travel and murder mystery would furnish an entertaining read, but Armstrong goes further. Her sensitivity to relationships, the vulnerability of women in the 1870s, especially those without rank or money, and Mallory’s compassion and quick insight all make for a deeper story. It’s not necessary to have read the preceding volumes to enjoy Death at a Highland Wedding, although you’ll likely want to gobble up as many of the adventures of Mallory and her friends as you can find.

The Feathered Edge: Culverelle Part the Second: Meeting Jemina Puddleduck

Last year I began this series on "the stories behind the stories" in this anthology of marvelous fantasy stories I was privileged to edit. I got about halfway through when life in the form of writing deadlines intervened. So I'm going to repost them and hopefully finish the series, then put them together in a companion volume. to The Feathered Edge.

 I received this email from Sean McMullen, author of "Culverelle:"

Relating to my story, I was re-watching Miss Potter (the movie on Beatrix Potter's life) on the weekend, and many of the Lake District scenes were shot at Derwent Water! So, Culverelle and Tordral meet Peter Rabbit and Jemima Puddleduck. That would be quite a story.

I wrote back that he'd have to write it himself. And he did.

"Good morning, Sir Gerald."

"Good morning, Jemima. And what have you and the other ducks been doing lately?"

"Oh bother the other ducks! I'm going on a date, it's so exciting. I met this nice Mr Elf yesterday, and he invited me to dinner. He said to meet him at dusk tonight, and to bring some things to help with the meal. Now what did he say? Bring a baking dish, some parsley, some chives, lots of breadcrumbs, olive oil, orange sauce – oh and an onion, bring a nice onion."

"And where is dinner to be?"

"I don't know, but I'm meeting him at the old footbridge."

"Indeed! Well, here's some advice for you. When you meet Mr Elf, someone behind you just might call out 'Duck!' If that happens, don't turn around and say 'Good evening', just flatten yourself on the path with your wings over your head."

"Good heavens! Whatever for?"

"If you don't,  you just might get an arrow through your poke bonnet."

… with apologies to Beatrix Potter.

The Feathered Edge: The Australian Connection (Culverelle Part the First)

Last year I began this series on "the stories behind the stories" in this anthology of marvelous fantasy stories I was privileged to edit. I got about halfway through when life in the form of writing deadlines intervened. So I'm going to repost them and hopefully finish the series, then put them together in a companion volume. to The Feathered Edge.

Another of the writers whose work I got to know through the SFWA Circulating Book Plan was Australian Sean McMullen. I think the book was Glass Dragons, the second of his Moonworlds series. It's often challenging to begin a series in the middle, but this one posed no problem. Dragons and vampires and "War of the Worlds" and angsty heroes and radical organizers-of-the-people's-revolution, oh my! Well, not all in that first book, but it was enough to get me hooked.

So a little while later, I wandered into the Tor party at a WorldCon and there was Sean McMullen. I think the introduction caught me by surprise because the first words out of my mouth (after "Hello, I'm Deborah") were, "I love your work!" And received a glorious smile in reply, as if I'd just handed him a precious gift. And yes, it was. We create in such solitude, and reviews are such treacherous things when it comes to "did people like my book? did they understand it?" Then to come all the way to a different continent, to be surrounded by people you've heard of and maybe corresponded with but never met in person, and to have a fellow writer recognize your name and have read -- and remembered -- your work. What a joy!

That conversation was necessarily brief. If you've attended a publisher's party -- or any part -- at a WorldCon, you will understand why. Most communications at large conventions are sound bytes anyway, but when you add a crushing crowd, noise, and alcohol, it's many times so. But Sean and his work kept crossing my path -- we both love cats, we're both martial artists (or I used to be -- 30 years of tai chi and kung fu). By the strange synchronicity of publishing, when I returned to the pages of F and SF with my own work ("The Price of Silence," April/May. 2009), it was to an issue that had a story of Sean's as well. 

(The universe is still conspiring to bring us together: Sean and I both have stories in the March/April 2013 issue!)

The Feathered Edge: More Feathers and Masks

Last year I began this series on "the stories behind the stories" in this anthology of marvelous fantasy stories I was privileged to edit. I got about halfway through when life in the form of writing deadlines intervened. So I'm going to repost them and hopefully finish the series, then put them together in a companion volume. to The Feathered Edge.

One of the inevitable results of novel writing is that in order to keep the focus on this story (and not the two dozen others that spring up along the way), we have to rein in that natural desire. Myself, I must sometimes bribe secondary characters into staying secondary, by promising them stories of their own, or endowing their appearances with nifty, memorable details. Or virtual chocolate. Then we end up with outtakes, related stories, branching series, and the like. Sometimes, the worlds and casts-of-characters are so vivid and rich, and speak to us so deeply, that we return to them again and again. They provide the setting, background, culture, history for short stories that are complete in themselves, little jewels set in the larger imaginative tapestry.

"The Art of Masks," by Sherwood Smith, is one such story. You don't need to have read her Inda series or her many other works set in the world of Sartorias-deles in order to enjoy it. It's simply a slice of a larger world, complex and varied. But if you have, you'll see all the shimmering threads that lead off in the distance. At the first reference to the ballad of Jeje the Pirate Queen, I wanted to stand up and cheer -- it was like glimpsing an old, dear friend, just a flash and then back to the present moment. And yet, the story works just as well if you've never heard of Jeje before. Although you should. You really should.

Mary Sue and Pernicious Thoughts

I've been thinking more about that first stage of a writer's development. (See the previous blogpost.) We day-dream, following whatever romantic, adventurous, geeky or otherwise self-indulgent impulses strike us. And then we write it up.

So where does Mary Sue (or Gary Sue) fit in? The term is often used dismissively to describe a character, usually in fanfic, who is a thinly-disguised representation of the author, in many ways, "the author's pet." She or he can be wonderful beyond belief, or equally unbelievably ordinary, but every other character of the appropriately attractive gender falls madly in love with her/him.