In the newest adventure in Lauren Willig’s “Pink Carnation” series, all about nineteenth-century British flower spies (the first of which, The Secret History of the Pink Carnation, was an affectionate sequel to Baroness Orcy’s The Scarlet Pimpernel), we move from England to colonial India, and the change of locale breathes new life into this series.

As is usual for Willig’s work, we’ve met our heroine Penelope Deveraux (now Lady Frederick Staines) before, when she made a brief appearance in the previous novel, The Tempation of the Night Jasmine. In that book, she was involved in a minor sex scandal…now we find her married off to the other party, but it’s a marriage that was forced upon two people who are really completely unsuited for each other simply to give the appearance of propriety to their relationship.

To further avert scandal, the couple’s been sent to India, where Lord Staines (Freddy) will take the position of Governor Generall Wellesley’s Special Envoy to the Court of Hyderabad. He, of course, begins an affair with a local “bibi,” – a mistress – and Penelope, who is quite the tomboy, with shooting and riding skills rivaling those of the men around her – makes her own niche, befriending Captain Alex Reid, who is escorting the couple and their entourage.

What follows is a rollicking adventure that includes murder, mayhem, passion, and politics, all rolled into a steamy climate. It’s a great read – so much so that for the first time, I wasn’t looking forward to contemporary character Eloise Kelly’s interludes (Eloise serves as narrator, as these adventures are all part of her graduate research project) with the dashing young relative of the original Pink Carnation, although, I will admit that reading about her grilled cheese dates are much more fun than reading lipozene reviews.

While these books are better when read in order, this novel can stand alone without the reader missing too many details.

Goes well with: grilled cheese sandwiches and good beer. Or a really tasty curry.

A few weeks ago, I was offered the chance to receive an ARC of the latest Ethan Gage adventure, The Barbary Pirates, by William Dietrich. In less time than it takes a patient on House to shake off a finger pulse oximeter, I leaped at the chance. After all, I love historical action/adventures – why else would The Eight, by Katherine Neville, be one of my favorite books.

In truth, I’d never read an Ethan Gage adventure, but I’m planning on spending some money at new and used bookstores in town, because I am hooked.

At the risk of ruining the plot, because this book is a mystery, or at least a puzzle, I won’t rehash it. What I will say is this: The Barbary Pirates is a wonderful swashbuckling adventure through history, and includes Napoleon and Robert Fulton as characters, has the Lousiana Purchase and the first submarine as important plot keys, and involves Atlantis, Egyptian History, and a mysterious and creepy (not to mention dangerous) organization called the Egyptian Rite, and of course, all of this has to do with a race to find the Mirror of Archimedes – the device rumored to have incinerated a Spanish fleet – before the “bad guys” can do so.

With romance, action, mystery, and historical figures popping up (Ben Franklin is quoted. A lot.) willy-nilly, this book is a wonderful romp akin to the National Treasure movies and Clive Cussler’s novels. Translation: it’s great fun, and you HAVE to read it.

This review is based on an uncorrected proof of the book. The Barbary Pirates will be available at your favorite bookstore on Tuesday, March 30th.

While there is no such thing as a term life insurance policy that repays you if you don’t like a book, it’s a pretty safe bet that if you see enough random strangers reading a novel you’re also considering, it probably doesn’t suck. That’s what happened to me with Tatiana de Rosnay’s recently reprinted novel Sarah’s Key: I’d looked at it in various bookstores on more than one occasion, but hadn’t bought it, and then, finally, after seeing too many other people reading it, I took home a copy of my very own a couple weeks ago.

I read it almost instantly, but haven’t had time to post the review until now.

In Sarah’s Key we are treated to not one, but two stories, one taking place in 1942, and the other in modern France. In the past, we are introduced to a young girl named Sarah. She is awakened one morning by loud knocking at the door of her family’s Parisian apartment, and when her mother answers the knock, they find the police waiting. Sarah’s family is Jewish, and they’re about to be part of one of the largest roundups of French Jews. Her father’s been living in the basement for weeks, anticipating such an event, and her little brother isn’t awake yet.

Given time to gather a few things, Sarah wakes her brother, and sends him to hide in the secret cabinet – literally a hollow space in the wall between two rooms – where they often play, and have created a secret lair, as children do, with food and water and books. She locks him in, and promises to come back. Sadly, she and her parents are then hustled off to the Vélodrome d’Hiver, an indoor bicycle racing arena in Paris, then to a camp outside the city, and then off to Auschwitz. While Sarah does manage to escape before the last transport, and is taken in by a French farmer and his wife, she doesn’t make it back to Paris in time to save her brother.

As Sarah’s story is unfolding in the past, however, Sarah’s Key also introduces us to Julia Jarmond, an American journalist who has lived in Paris for 25 years, and is married to a French architect. She shares a special bond with her grandmother-in-law, who is a feisty old woman, and when she is assigned to cover the memorial of the Vélodrome d’Hiver roundups, it is this woman who reveals that the family moved into their vintage Paris apartment only because it was available after being vacated by Sarah’s family.

As Julia begins to research her story, she finds herself compelled to learn about the family who previously lived in the apartment, and eventually, she does track down Sarah’s surviving family members, but only after her marriage disintegrates.

If this sounds like a depressing story – trust me, it’s NOT. It’s imbued with love and hope, and is written so delicately, so gently, that what should be horrifying instead serves as a backdrop for a wonderful exploration of history and the human heart.

It’s October, and even though the temperature is bouncing between hot and cool in much the same fashion as the ball on a ping pong table, there is still a bite to the air, and something indefinable that always comes as Halloween draws nearer. It’s an appropriate time, then, to revisit a classic horror tale. It’s an even better time to experience such a tale in a new way, which is what I did over the weekend, as I immersed myself in Dracula: the Un-Dead, the official unofficial sequel to Bram Stoker’s original novel.

Co-authors Dacre Stoker and Ian Holt do an excellent job of weaving their tale with Bram’s original, and with blending familiar characters with new ones. In this novel, however, Dracula isn’t the villain the original Stoker (Dacre’s great-granduncle) portrayed him to be – though, in all truth – neither is he sweetness and light. Mina Harker (nee Murray) is also painted with a slightly different brush. In this version of the story, which picks up 25 years after the Transylvanian Count’s apparent demise, she and old Vlad consummated their relationship in more ways than just the drinking of blood, and young Quincey Harker is not Jonathon’s son, but his.

Mother and son aren’t exactly the best of friends, however, especially since the younger Harker wants to pursue a career on the stage, and not in Jonathon’s failing law firm, while Mom doesn’t seem to be aging the way a respectable woman should. This latter is also a bone of contention between Mina and her husband.

It’s not just the Harkers who figure into this sequel, however. We see Seward, Holmwood and Van Helsing all dealing in completely different ways with the aftermath of their earlier adventure.

New characters enrich the tale in this novel. Notable among them is Inspector Cotford, a Lestrade-like police detective who is working the Dracula case while also trying to solve the mostly-cold case of Jack the Ripper. His associates are given names that vampire fans of the modern era will find either amusing or jarring, perhaps both. One is Price, but I’ll not reveal the others. Suffice to say that in-jokes abound.

All in all, Dracula: the Un-Dead was both satisfying and entertaining.

Even better, Stoker and Holt have left open the possibility of another sequel.

First of all, the depth of research required to pull off a novel like this, filling in the blanks between the birth of Christ and the point at which we pick up his story again, when he’s in his thirties, is incredible, and even if many of the scenarios in this novel are preposterous, Christopher Moore deserves kudos just for that.

Second, this is parody at its best, and while, yes, it’s controversial, the best comedy comes from darkness and controversy. Parody serves a purpose, it makes us examine the truths we hold close, but non-threateningly.

Third, this novel is hilarious. Completely hilarious. Biff is the perfect foil for the world’s only perfect person, and the notions expressed – What if Jesus studied Buddhism? What if he knew kung-fu? – are delightful to ponder.

As the author points out, it’s fiction, and if reading fiction causes you to doubt your faith, it’s your faith that should be examined, not the novel that caused your doubts.

Read LAMB.
Laugh a lot.