Danika reviews Raven’s Mask by Winter Pennington

Part of the fun of running this blog is experimenting with different books. I haven’t read a lot of genre books, so running the Lesbrary has given me a chance to try them out. Unfortunately, I think Raven’s Mask wasn’t the best choice for me. It’s the second in a series, and although it explains enough that it can stand on its own, I think it would feel more natural if I had read the first one. It’s also a paranormal mystery, and I’m not really accustomed to mysteries or paranormal fiction.

Also, I didn’t really feel like the mystery had its own arc; the romance and paranormal aspects sort of took over. Not only is the main character a werewolf and she’s dating a vampire, but she also is a witch… who can also shape-shift into a raven… because she has a special connection with a goddess… [spoiler] and she has faerie blood [end spoiler].

Still, this is probably 90% just me and my tastes. The writing was pretty good, though a little heavy on the similes, and I think it would be much stronger when read after the first in the series, so ymmv.

Kristi reviews Firestorm by Radclyffe

Mallory James is a cool-headed firefighter paramedic (aptly nicknamed Ice) who leads a band of smokejumpers six months out of the year in Montana. Training rookies in thirty days takes all her time and attention, but when Jac Russo shows up unexpectedly to fill a slot, Mallory finds herself fighting an attraction she hasn’t felt in a long time, which makes Jac trouble with a capital T. Jac has the skills to be on the team and is running from both the tabloids and her conservative father, who is on the campaign trail and courting followers. Mallory does her best to put Jac in her place, but Jac isn’t afraid to pursue the woman, or the work, she wants. The relationship heats up as a subtle cat and mouse game between the two women culminates in passion that cannot be denied. However, when Jac is called back to family duty, will Mallory let her go or fight for the one who finally melted Ice?

I liked this story. I do think it took a long time for the characters to come together, even with the obvious attraction between the two. Not that it wasn’t completely unbelieveable: workplace relationships, especially between supervisor and rookie, can be frowned upon. The emotional angst of the two were palpable: Jac has her conservative father and his Presidental run, Mallory has her loss of two smoke jumpers the summer before to increase her concerns about leading the group. The self-doubt would be enough for anyone to question their feelings about everything else in their lives. The whole twist of how Jac ended up in Montana was a bit convoluted, even for those involved in politics, but made the dramatic tension palpable through the end. Radclyffe has a way with words. Her scenes are vivid, both in their visual set up of scenes and the sensual and emotional tension between Jac and Mallory. Having the taunting instigator named Hooker made me chuckle through most of the book, but the secondary characters are solid, especially Sarah.

Radclyffe bring another hot lesbian romance for her readers in Firestorm.

Note: This electronic galley was provided by the publisher through NetGalley.

Allysse reviews The World Unseen by Shamim Sarif


The World Unseen is set in South Africa in the 1950’s and relates the story of two women – Miriam and Amina – and the way their lives impact each others.

Let me start this review by saying that I love this book. After a lot of trouble to get it from my library I read it in two days, unable to put it down unless I really had to.

What I love most about the novel is that Shamim Sarif takes the time to explore the two main characters but also their family and surroundings. The story is divided into three main sections and we can feel those separations quite well when reading the novel. However it is a smooth and logical process. Every part is introduced and possible only from the actions and developments of the previous sections.

Through the pages we are introduced to a culture, an environment, and we feel as a foreigner getting to understand an unfamiliar place. All characters’ point of views are explored objectively. We may dislike a character but it is from our own choices as we are given the key to understand them and their behaviour.

The author takes us into a different era and a different culture but it feels like we are with the characters, getting to know them and sharing their lives. We can sense the political background of South Africa in the 1950’s. It is fully present but only through the lives and actions of the characters. It is not emphasized or put in the front line of the text, it is simply there as a fact of life of those characters.

Shamim Sarif is a very skillful writer to set the tone of a character, a culture, and a place. She never uses many words but in a few lines, through a few gestures and thoughts, she conveys all the meaning necessary for the reader to understand each character and its motivation.

There is one minor aspect of the novel I didn’t enjoy much. It is the use of non-english words. I wouldn’t have minded so much if a glossary or footnotes had been included to give a translation or definition of the terms. Most of the time the context provides a sort of definition but the words mostly remained vague to me and I was feeling a bit irritated at not understanding them fully.

All in all I highly recommend this novel for its numerous interesting characters as well as for the discovery of another culture. I am not an expert about Idians in South Africa in the 1950’s, but it does feel like Shamim Sarif transcribed the feel of a period and culture very well.

On a none literary note, I also highly recommend the film. Directed by Shamim Sarif herself, it is very respectful of the book but the focus is put more on Amina and Miriam than in the novel. The book really is more about them and their environment, their families and friends, taking the time to explore the life of behaviour of all.

Maryam reviews Ghosts of Winter by Rebecca S. Buck

Full disclosure: I did not read anything about Ghosts of Winter before I downloaded it for review. I was coming down off a marathon of Japanese horror comics and the second season of The X-Files when Danika’s suggestion hit my inbox. Ghosts? In winter? Sign me up!

Unfortunately for me, there are no actual ghosts in Ghosts of Winter; the tale is that of Ros, a young history teacher who has broken up with her long-term girlfriend and her teaching career in the wake of her mother’s death. However, a family friend from Ros’s childhood has bequeathed Ros a dilapidated manor in her will, stipulating that Ros restore it as a condition of acceptance. Of course, one woman cannot restore an entire crumbling 18th century manor house by herself – enter Anna, the sexy architect who will help Ros rebuild Winter Manor AND her broken heart!

I have to admit I am not familiar with romance novels at all. I am wondering, then, if a standard romance novel is as – dare I say it – plotless as Ghosts of Winter. Most of the action revolves around the interaction between Ros and Anna – which is not to say that their budding relationship is unimportant; it is just not as interesting against this sort of mundane backdrop of fixing up an old house. There are occasional passages that reveal the hidden passions of the previous inhabitants of Winter Manor, and I wished that the author had given us more of these flashbacks. When I read the first of them, I was hoping for there to be two stories that would eventually merge, but they are just tiny glimpses that do not relate directly to Ros and Anna’s storyline – and frankly, the lives of Winter Manor’s previous inhabitants are much more captivating. They are chapter-long peeks into the secrecy and danger of same-sex romance, and there is far more potential in these stories.

That being said, the sex scenes are well-written and hot, and the author does know her perfumes – can a girl even buy a bottle of Tabac Blond, these days? If romance and house renovation are your idea of a good time, I’d say give Ghosts of Winter a try – but I hope that future efforts by Ms. Buck will be a little more captivating.

Danika reviews Travels Through Love And Time by Christine Hall Volkoff

I feel a little bit uncomfortable reviewing this book, because it reads like a first draft. I liked the concept: a look at three different loves, at three different times, in one woman’s life. Unfortunately, the writing felt clunky, and I never really got into the flow of the story because of it. One of the most distracting elements was the abundance of ellipses, especially awkward when placed randomly in dialogue. Here’s an example, from page 78:

“Come with me to my hotel,” he said. “You’ll see it’s so beautiful there …”

I knew what was happening … what was going to happen. I wanted it to happen. I said yes.

or on page 45:

“What about her? asked Francesca … obviously taken aback by the question.

I also didn’t get attached to the main character, perhaps partially because all three love affairs were about falling madly, suddenly in love with someone she knew nothing about. In fact, the only character I was intrigued by never actually appeared in the novel herself–she was just referred to. That character was Christine’s ex-girlfriend, and the reason I wanted to know more about her was because she was described as such a villainous person that I wanted to know why Christine would ever start dating her.

I do think the concept had potential, and I think the author has a skill for establishing setting (when Christine is in France, you get a really good feel for her surroundings, and you can easily picture them in your head). Unfortunately, I just don’t think Travels Through Love and Time at this point is polished enough to charge money for.

Islay reviews Moonglow by Charlie Romo

I haven’t fretted over exactly what to say in a review as much for any other book as I have this one, simply because I’ve never read anything that is both so endearing and yet also so riddled with basic errors before. Charlie Romo’s novel follows the adventures of a super model in the futuristic super-city of Moonglow, her relationship with her female lover and with the various other quirky characters around her.

There is, undoubtedly, something a tad charming about what Romo is trying to do. The characters are endearing, and the novel itself is littered with page breaks that double as happy emoticons and hearts. Moonglow as a world is super-shiny, bright, effervescently sweet – the characters glitter almost as much as the city does. And Romo is nothing if not ambitious – the string of web addresses (there’s tumblr, a twitter, a facebook group, all dedicated to the world of the novel) tagged onto the end of the novel all suggest the potential for a protracted web-series of the sort we’re likely to see a great many of in the coming years as e-publishing truly takes off.

But all the charm and ambition of Moonglow is entirely undermined by the fact that it feels amateurish and unfinished thanks to its many, many basic errors in writer’s craft. It is littered with tense-changes, type-os and grammatical errors which jar the reader and make it impossible to enjoy the plot. Within the first chapter I counted five mistakes in the grammar and one tense change, and it doesn’t get much better as the book progresses. This novel, in essence, reads like un-beta-ed fanfiction and as such I can’t in good conscience recommend that anyone hand over money for this novel.

I might be prepared to tolerate this sort of work if Romo was operating as an amateur looking to develop his skill, rather than a professional who is charging people for his work – but he is charging people money, which for me demands a certain standard which he isn’t meeting. As it is, I would suggest that Moonglow simply isn’t worth the money. You can buy professionally published ebooks for the same amount, and avoid having to navigate confusing tense-changes and spelling errors whilst reading them. Indeed, there are self-published works available for free or for small donations that are of a higher standard than Moonglow (Sarah Diemer’s brilliant The Dark Wife springs to mind).

What Romo is trying to do is admirable, but he will not get far with Moonglow until he is prepared to properly revise his writing and get someone to knit-pick it for basic errors.

Laura Mandanas reviews Fingersmith by Sarah Waters

A darker tale than one might expect, Sarah Waters’ Fingersmith is a story of deception, double-dealing, and dysfunction. Opening in 1862 in a dilapidated London slum known as the Borough, we meet heroine #1: 17-year-old Susan Trinder. Orphaned at a young age, Sue has been raised as a fingersmith (pickpocket) by Mrs. Sucksby, a crooked landlady who trafficks in foundling babies dosed with gin. When a smooth talking tenant approaches Sucksby with a get-rich-quick scheme to swindle a sheltered young heiress of her fortune, Sue eagerly volunteers to help.

The young heiress, of course, is heroine #2: Maud Lilly. Also orphaned at a young age, Maud lives a safe but excruciatingly dull existence with her uncle on an estate called Briar in the English countryside. Bored to tears and fits of mindless cruelty, Maud is punished harshly and bullied into submission as she is trained to take over her uncle’s distasteful line of work. Needless to say, when an alternative unexpectedly presents itself, Maud jumps at the opportunity. Though the two women come from opposite positions of poverty and privilege, Sue and Maud are both women confined by their circumstances. Though both are admirably strong-willed and cunning, they are also naive; preoccupied as they are in setting their elaborate traps, they often don’t see the ones set for them by others. (And as you fall for their charms, I daresay, neither will you. The Byzantine twists and hairpin turns of plot in this book are absolutely breathtaking.)

Told as a first-person narrative alternating between Sue and Maud’s points of view, the nuanced characterizations were fresh and a pleasure to read. More strikingly, the descriptive atmospheric details are among the most beautiful and realistic I’ve ever encountered. Waters is clearly a woman at home doing research, and there’s a reason why–prior to writing fiction, she was in a Ph.D. program at Queen Mary’s, studying lesbian and gay historical fiction

Although Waters is famous for penning “lesbo Victorian romps“, the actual lesbian content in this book is “more or less incidental.” And in this setting, I didn’t even mind it. The subtle touch felt right, and honestly, probably played a role in propelling the book to its success with mainstream audiences. As far as I’m concerned, the more people that get to read this lovely book, the better!

MFred reviews Call Me Softly by D. Jackson Leigh and Jukebox by Gina Noelle Daggett

Around the time I was ten years old, “horse girls” emerged and it was clear I definitely was not one of them.  Sure, I tried.  I read Black Beauty and watched National Velvet.  But I was way more into the Babysitter’s Club and Nancy Drew; horses just did not appeal.

Imagine my surprise, twenty-some years later (oh god), to find myself enjoying Call Me Softly.  As the book opens, all of the Wetheringtons have been killed off, except Lillie.  On her grandmother’s deathbed, she promises to return to the polo estate in South Carolina, and deliver herself over to Swain Butler. Swain, her grandmother promises, will help keep Lillie safe.  Swain is the Wetherington’s famed horse trainer and polo player, and unbeknownst to her, also at the heart of some serious family secrets.  Lillie carries these secrets–and all their dangers– back with her, but finds herself falling for the gorgeous horse woman too.

One thing I really liked about Call Me Softly was the even-handedness with which Leigh wrote Swain and Lillie.  Swain is fairly butch in appearance; works a traditional male job, but she has made a place for herself in her community and the wider equestrian world. Leigh allows Swain to be confident, sexy, and unapologetic about herself.  The same can be said for Lillie– who by description sounds pretty high femme to me, but never once exhibits any of the “oh god am I gay enough” crises often encountered in feminine lesbian characterizations.  It’s nice to read two queer women who are drama-free about it.

If I was going to pick at this book for something, it wouldn’t be the paper-thin mystery or the occasional lapse into passive-voiced telling by the narrative voice.  The identity of the villain wasn’t really much of a mystery– I guessed who it was within the first few chapters.   And yeah, the “will-they-won’t-they” between Swain and Lillie was a bit drawn out, because really?  It’s a romance.  They will.   Get on with the smooching already!

No, my main issue was the slut-shaming.  The book opens with a sex scene between Swain and another woman.  It’s obvious this woman is sensual and voracious; but Swain is a willing participant and enjoys having sex with her.  Later, when this Lolita shows up to make some moves on Swain, Lillie (and friends) get real ugly.  Call her a slut and a hussy, behind her back.  I found it jarring.  It completely pulled me out of the story and engaged all of my feminist ire.  Leigh probably meant this to be a sign of Lillie’s growing feelings for Swain, but hell, Swain slept with this woman too.  And Swain does nothing to defend her former partner!   I mean, it’s a romance novel– it seems a little hypocritical of Leigh to imply judgement of one woman’s sexuality while writing pretty hot sex scenes involving two others.  Hard enough being a woman and a queer, know what I’m saying?  We don’t need to be shaming each other too.

Over all, though, the book was entertaining and fun to read.  Not the greatest romance novel in the world, but not the worst either.

—-

Mfred Did Not Finish Jukebox

I don’t care how romantic a love story may be, if the writing is bad enough, I will hate reading it.

Example #1:  Would you like to read the most boring food fight scene in the history of the world?  Ok! Here it is:

One morning, Harper and Grace had been abnormally raucous with one another.  It had started the night before when they were making cupcakes and Grace smeared chocolate mix across Harper’s face.  That alone had resulted in an all-out chocolate cake war in the Alessis’ gourmet kitchen.  When they were done, mix was on the ceiling, all over the thick wood island and matted in both girls’ hair and clothes.  Fortunately, no one was home at the time.

In the end, Grace won the cake war, pining Harper to the floor, her slippery chocolate-covered knees restraining Harper’s arms until she conceded defeat.  Grace pushed buttons inside Harper, buttons she enjoyed having pushed.

First, this scene is all set up for another food fight that starts the next day!  So why is it so detailed?  It shouldn’t take two paragraphs of exposition to set up a scene.  Second, PASSIVE VOICE IS BORING VOICE.  There is no action in this scene!  Third, what exactly is the the most important sentence here?  Grace pushes Harper’s buttons and she likes it.  Did this scene actually tell me that?  No.  The narrative voice did, and that is BORING TOO.

Example #2: Would you like to read a confusing and also strangely icky orgasm scene?  OK!

As Grace split Harper in half, she held held onto the bed sheet with both hands, crumpling it like wads of paper.

Harper squeezed tighter, again, trying to make it last.

Until finally, she let go.

Somewhere deep below the surface, as Harper’s young, fragile frame shook, her foundation gave way–just like in the earthquake–and everything about her crashed down the hill into the vineyard and olive grove.  There was no more imagining.

The big one finally hit.

When Harper smelled herself on Grace’s face, something inside her released, popped open allowing all the fear which had consumed her to dissipate.  With intention, she squirmed away from Grace and got on top; Harper was ready to dive into what she’d dreamed about since she was a teenager.

My thoughts, in the order they occurred:

  1. First of all, may the good lord keep me from ever being split in half.  Sounds frightening.
  2.  And how does one, exactly, get split in half while also squeezing tighter?
  3. “Smelled herself” is the kind of physical detail that isn’t detailed enough– is it titilating, or is it gross?  Are we really meant to wonder that, right after Harper’s first orgasm?
  4. If this orgasm was so physically and emotionally intense, why is she immediately rolling over and making moves on Grace?
  5. I mean, can a sister heave a sigh, maybe lay in bed for a second, to consider the ramifications of losing all of her fear in one fell swoop?

This is too much thinking. And this is only about 60 pages into the book!

I made it about another ten before I realized I actually hated, hated, reading it.  All of the possibilities of the story, the small delights of meeting new characters, disappeared under the passive and inconsistent voice.  So I gave up.

Anna reviews Ghosts of Winter by Rebecca S. Buck

I enjoy reading historical fiction and, of course, lesbian fiction, so the opportunity to read Rebecca S. Buck’s Ghosts of Winter, which features both, was too good to pass up. Protagonist Ros Wynne has come to a crossroads in her life after losing her mother to cancer, leaving her job, and breaking up with her long-term girlfriend. When a kindly woman from her past passes away, she quite unexpectedly leaves Ros with an 18th century manor house in Northern England and the money with which to restore it to its former glory. Ros takes the challenge as a step toward a new beginning, but arrives at Winter Manor with no idea of who she is now, or what she wants from her life. Enter Anna Everest, the beautiful architect who seems to be as put-together as Ros is falling apart. Sparks fly between them, but Ros can’t be sure of her heart, and Anna has a wedding band on her finger . . .

Against the development of Ros and Anna’s relationship, Buck juxtaposes three stories from Winter’s past–18th century, 19th century, and 20th century–of same-sex love which does not truly have the opportunity to blossom. [Minor spoiler alert] The lord who remakes Winter Manor engages in an illicit relationship with another nobleman; a young lady’s passion for a free-thinking friend turns to ash when her love returns as her brother’s fiancee; and the flapper who prefers her female lover as a beautiful memory bears a child who will one day inherit the property and hand it down to Ros. I enjoyed the way these stories lent a weight and history to the setting of the main plot; as more of the house was repaired, their stories came to light. I almost expected some sort of diary or historical record that would connect the stories more tangibly, but the connection is made for the benefit of the reader, rather than Ros and Anna.

Overall, I enjoyed the book. The “thinking about her past mistakes and being unsure” parts of Ros’s character development were often privileged over action or dialogue in a way that sometimes made it slow going. I prefer large blocks of text to be broken up a little bit more, but I appreciated the effort at showing her growth over time. The attraction between the main characters was believable, and I especially enjoyed the glimpses into the past and the tiny traces of their stories that cropped up in the present. So much of gay and lesbian history is unwritten that it was a fun exercise to put a tangible “what if” to the diverse kinds of relationships thatmight have happened but never got recorded.

And finally, who wouldn’t want to inherit a manor house and the money to fix it? I kept expecting Ros to run out of money after the first few weeks of work. In my experience, these things do not usually go together (even if one is fortunate to inherit the house). Well, I guess it might not be for everyone, but the urge to renovate is strong in my family, and this book definitely played to it. Readers who enjoy the historic threads of Ghosts of Winter might also take a look at Lyn Denison’s Past Remembering, in which queer relationships in the past are uncovered in present-day Australia.

Holly reviews The Professor by Terry Castle

The Professor: A Sentimental Education collects personal essays by Terry Castle, author of The Literature of Lesbianism. Magnetic, self-flagellating, and sharp, her writing here blends personal, political, and academic thoughts on topics as diverse as teen angst and world travel. In these essays, she collects stamps, smokes pot, and talks for her slutty daschund puppy. If it sounds mundane, it is. But, part of the book’s delight is Castle’s ability to turn a plain memory into a witty and endearing reflection.

“Courage, Mon Amie,” the first essay, explores women’s interest in WWII studies. Castle discusses her curiosity about the lives of army nurses, especially the lesbian ones, and visits an ancestor and veteran’s grave site.

Continuing the theme of family, Castle contrasts her love of jazz player Art Pepper with the distance she keeps between her similarly violent but much less charismatic step-brother in “My Heroin Christmas.” She adores how butch Pepper was and hardly puts his autobiography down over the holiday. Yet, when she remembers her likewise crude step-brother launching himself off of the house banister, she does not feel remorse. She recalls her mother smiling for a split-second and cannot find it within herself to think ill of the moment. Even when he at last succeeds at killing himself, she is relieved.

“Sicily Diary” transitions to found family– to stories of her partner Blakey and their dog. This is the one piece written in diary form. Because of its structure, it quickly jumps from Italian ruins to bowel problems to jokes about the horny baby daschund. Disorienting but true to the experience of travel, the change of style works well.

The next essay, “Desperately Seeking Susan,” describes Castle’s rocky friendship with late writer Susan Sontag. Susan, too, was found family, though more distantly than the characters of “Sicily Diaries.” She was a marvel to be around but often difficult to predict and entertain, and Castle grapples with how to remember her.

“Home Alone” also deals with honoring the dead. In the wake of 9/11, Castle asks herself how she can go on with the luxurious habit of subscribing to dozens of house magazines, especially when some of her favorites completely ignore the tragedy happening just beyond their borders. Comparing interior decorating and fear, she wonders why she needs beautiful living space. The quick answer? Because her mother doesn’t.

In “Travels with My Mother,” she confesses her ongoing rebellion against her mother’s taste as she recounts their visit to the Georgia O’Keefe museum. Castle’s mother worships O’Keefe. Meanwhile, Castle is an adult hipster and also butch, neither of which her mother likes. Additionally, Castle mentions that she made the gorgeous cover for The Professor and pitches her blog, “Fevered Brain Productions, http://terry-castle-blog.blogspot.com/, which showcases her other colorful, feminist collages.

The final and title essay chronicles Castle’s grad school relationship with a female professor. She compares this to another that she has, years later, with one of her own students. All this occurs against a backdrop critique of lesbian music and a celebration of pre-Prop 8 engagement. Combined, the different elements make this essay a nuanced, strangely mournful picture of lesbian love and culture today.

Read The Professor and you will become smarter, slightly depressed, and more hip in the seventies. I highly recommend it.