Month: February 2022

The Last Dance Of The Debutante

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

It’s no surprise, well at least it shouldn’t be, I have a fondness for British books. Or books with British settings. Historical British books. British etiquette and customs. So, Julia Kelly’s latest historical fiction novel The Last Dance of the Debutante was a must read.

Kelly’s last few novels focused on World War Two. With The Last Dance of the Debutante, it’s 1957 and the last London season with the debutantes being presented to the Queen (Elizabeth II) is fast approaching. Basically, it’s peak Claire Foy in The Crown time. True confession: The Crown isn’t my thing but oh well.

Quiet, bookish Lily Nicholls comes from an excellent family.  She lives with her widowed mother in reduced circumstances, with Lily’s terrifying paternal grandmother paying for her school and expecting an iron grip on deciding her future. A bit first season Gilmore Girls with less coffee and a mother who rarely socializes and doesn’t sound like a Preston Sturges 1930s leading lady on Pixi Stix.

Then Grandmother Nicholls decides Lily is going to be one of these final debutantes, Lily’s education and her mother’s retreat from the world be damned.

Now since Lily is pretty, smart and can make her own clothes look like something from couture, I was never too worried about her future and was pretty sure she Would Prevail and Find Her Path and Her Tribe.

Does she?

Please read the book.

Of course, what truly grabbed my attention wasn’t the round of parties and just how exhausting being a debutante is. I’ve read my Nancy Mitford. Being a debutante is like being in beauty pageants only the stakes are a husband (preferably rich, titled and the right social class) versus a fur coat and a scholarship. There’s a lot of sacrifice behind the pretty dresses and wide smiles. There are  secrets lurking in the Nicholls household and Lily’s Mummy aka Josephine is a tightly coiled bundle of nerves.

If you want to make Lily’s mummy Josephine jump faster than me at work deep in a project when a coworker comes over to my desk to ask a question? Say “Joanna” and a simmering rage plus terror comes to the surface.

Who is Joanna? Joanna, Lily’s much older sister has committed some grave social sin and her banishment from the family unit is complete right down to her name never being spoken. She’s the shadow haunting everything.

And bit of a side tangent on Mummy Josephine please? She is a such a bitter person she draws your attention. The bitter and coldness radiate off the page. I half want to smack Josephine while not wanting to incur her wrath. And I am talking about a book with a beautiful yet poisonous fellow debutante everyone half loves half fears, a found family tribe of debutantes who will never be Debutante of the Year but are The Girl Squad Who Has Your Back Bestie and a flock of potential suitors.

I try very hard not to reveal spoilers but there is a plot twist I had about 75% figured out before Lily was even presented at Court (Elizabeth II not “Oh crap I have jury duty” court) except for one person. And a second plot twist is quickly handled with much more good character of spirit than I could summon in that situation. I do admit I wish there had been more time devoted to that second plot twist because the ramifications could have been awesome in a glorious peak 1980s soap opera plot line. But Julia Kelly’s heroines are much better people than me even with their flaws. And unlike me, Julia Kelly can really write excellent historical fiction.

So TLDR. Did I enjoy The Last Dance of the Debutante? Yes. Will I ever watch The Crown, nope. And am I waiting not so patiently for Julia Kelly’s next book? Hard YES!

The Woman Beyond The Attic: The VC Andrews Story

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

Let’s set the scene.

It’s the mid-1980s and I’m with my mother at Bradlees. She’s combing the clearance racks and I slip away to the book section and home straight in on the black paperbacks with covers opening onto ominous paintings of hyper beautiful people with darkness looming. I grab one and start reading as much as I can before my mother finds me and it’s back to the real world.

Now fast forward to very early 2022, I really shouldn’t be buying more books. I have so many unread books and I vowed to do a book buying ban to start the year right. But in passing I see something online about a biography on V.C. Andrews. And not just any V.C. Andrews biography but one done with the blessing of her family and by her chosen ghostwriter, the legendary author in his own right, Andrew Neiderman.

Did I pre-order this biography I’ve wanted for years, even though I haven’t read any of the latter V.C. Andrews ™ books since the mid-Culter series? Do I drink oceans of tea? And given the chance will eat a tuna cucumber sandwich at 5:45am while my work computer boots up?

<sighs>

Okay, so I’m predictable and weak.

I’ve had The Woman Beyond The Attic: The V.C. Andrews Story for two weeks now and this has been one of my more challenging reviews to write. It’s not a difficult book, filled with high scholarship that even Helene Hanff’s beloved Arthur “Q” Quiller-Couch would have a hard time grasping. And it’s not the sugar-coated fluff biography cranked out in days and sold in mass market paperbacks in the airport newsstand/bookstore.

I was just expecting…more from The Woman Beyond The Attic: The V.C. Andrews Story. Perhaps I’m a greedy-guts wanting a deep dive into a favorite author, something meaty and 16 CDs to play on my commute to work. Think Barbara Seaman’s excellent Lovely Me on Jacqueline Susann, Ruth Franklin’s acclaimed Shirley Jackson: A Rather Haunted Life or Gerri Hirshey’s Not Pretty Enough: The Unlikely Triumph of Helen Gurley Brown.

It’s lovely to have a proper biography of V.C. Andrews and learn more about the woman behind the paperbacks. I never knew just how disabled she was and the lengths she went to disguise her infirmities and how narrow life must have been living with her mother until she found success and a new world opened to her. It’s easy to see how she could translate those parts of her life onto the page. And having some of her personal letters and an partial unpublished manuscript is something very rare. But I wanted more.

I wanted more on each book than a few paragraphs, especially the novels written by V.C. Andrews herself. And here’s the part where the biography failed my expectations. One might expect, given the author is the very person who took over the V.C. Andrews mantle and has produced more V.C. Andrews books than Lindt truffles I’ve eaten (and I might just be addicted to Lindt truffles) to have what happened after her death. What it was like to be chosen and have your legacy become tied to her eternally. Heck, even a bit more of the cultural impact of Andrews on pop culture and teenager reads would be nice. But these are pipe dreams.

Let’s be brutally honest, The Woman Beyond The Attic: The V.C. Andrews Story, is written for the people who remember reading her books as teenagers, watch the Lifetime movies with awe and reverence. And I am not That Person or That Reader. Does that make me A Monster? Perhaps?

I am not The Woman Beyond The Attic: The V.C. Andrews Story’s Ideal Reader but it’s Ideal Reader is out there and I’m glad I read it even if I found it lacking.

My Heart Is A Chainsaw

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

Last year I read certain horror novels and wondered if I didn’t have a place as a modern horror reader. I could still easily dive into classic horror like Stoker, Machen, Le Fanu, Lovecraft and his literary godchildren but modern horror? Was I too old and cranky? Especially after my disappointment with Grady Hendrix and The Final Girl Support Group. Don’t get me wrong, Grady Hendrix is an interesting voice for modern horror, but he’s been moving closer to almost too precious for words, too all-knowing voice, veering into Horror’s Patton Oswalt for my tastes.

I can’t even with Patton Oswalt. Between this and knowing I don’t do Anne of Green Gables, if this is the final straw and you’ve decided I’m a complete monster and will never read another thing I write, it’s okay, I understand.

Also, it’s been how many months and I still can’t eat pasta or noodles. Damn you, Grady Hendrix.

Excuse me, you might interrupt, but are you going to babble about a book or your stupid food aversions and I’m too different thing?

Hold your horses, I am going to babble about a book, that of course, I found at my local library. Today’s book, My Heart Is A Chainsaw by one Stephen Graham Jones. Now I might be on the fringes of modern horror but even I recognize that name even if I never read one of his books until this month. I read A LOT and it’s possible I’ve read one of his short stories in the past.

My Heart Is A Chainsaw, which does this sound like a long-lost Nirvana album or is my age showing, is the story of one Jennifer “Jade” Daniels, an outsider in the tiny Idaho community of Proofrock. Jade looks like she should be best friends with Nancy from The Craft with her wild dyed hair, more black eyeliner than peek Siouxsie Sioux and battered clothes. She’s smart and obsessed to with horror movies to the point even I’m all “girl please”. Proofrock could be the ideal setting for a 1980s low budget horror movie with a spooky haunted lake legend and an abandoned summer camp with a tragic past. If My Heart Is A Chainsaw was a 1980s horror movie, Jade’s seen it all history teacher Mr. Holmes aka Sherlock or Bear, could only be played by David Warner or Donald Sutherland. But it’s not the 1980s and the modern world is creeping into Proofrock along with a new housing development called Terra Nova catering to the rich and famous.

Of course, being a horror novel, things…happen. Or do they? Jade has a history of instability and has spent time hospitalized after a suicide attempt. Is Jade an unreliable narrator, keeping secrets from herself or are the things happening just occurrences that might happen in any town undergoing a transformation after a tragic past.

Now if you’re curious and want me to spoil the rest of the plot, no. Get your hands on My Heart Is A Chainsaw and read it yourself.

I will say My Heart Is A Chainsaw kept me guessing and reading one handed while making dinner. I don’t suggest this unless you have the spare cash to replace a library book if it falls into the oven or a simmering pot. Note: I did not drop or damage my library copy but hey, it could happen especially when REDACTED SERIOUSLY REDACTED OH MY TULU REDACTED.

Long story short? My Heart Is A Chainsaw is what I hoped The Final Girl Support Group would be. I might not vibe with modern horror as I did years ago but there are still books out there for readers like me.