Tuesday, January 22nd: Into the Hall of Books

Wednesday, January 23rd: Instagram: @dropandgivemenerdy

Friday, January 25th: Instagram: @giuliland

Monday, January 28th: Bloggin’ ‘Bout Books

Tuesday, January 29th: Instagram: @lifebetweenwords

Thursday, January 31st: Peppermint PhD

Friday, February 1st: Broken Teepee

Monday, February 4th: Instagram: @readvoraciously

Tuesday, February 5th: Instagram: @wellreadmama

Wednesday, February 6th: What Is That Book About

TBD: Instagram: @somekindofalibrary

In his new book, Slave Stealers, Ballard discusses the inspiration behind O.U.R. and how his organization uses lessons from the past to guide its day-to-day operations.  Although he talks about some of O.U.R.'s rescue missions, his focus remains mostly on the original Underground Railroad.  He discusses historical leaders and heroes, some of whom are well-known (Abraham Lincoln, Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass, etc.) and many whom are not (Harriet Jacobs, Levi Coffin, Robert Smalls, Cornelia Willis, etc.).  Despite the disturbing, overwhelming nature of his subject, Ballard emphasizes hope.  He insists that if good, ordinary citizens of all creeds, colors, and backgrounds can unite against the evil that is human trafficking, the plague can be eradicated.  Just like the battles of the past, this fight will require courage, cunning, compassion, and bold, well-planned action.  As has happened before, this war can be won.  

It's difficult not to feel bolstered by Ballard's optimism, especially considering the evil, heart-wrenching crimes he's seen with his own eyes.  His faith, his courage, and his positivity shine through everything he writes in this book.  While Slave Stealers is not overly graphic, its subject matter is as disturbing as it gets.  In spite of this, Ballard's tone is upbeat, making this volume an inspiring call-to-action that offers undeniable proof that when humans combine their individual sparks they can ignite a righteous bonfire that can spread light into even the darkest of corners.  As Ballard says to the children he seeks daily:  Your long night is coming to an end.  Hold on.  We are on our way.

(Readalikes:  Reminds me of other books about slavery and the Underground Railroad, although no titles come readily to mind.  You?)

Grade:

for brief, mild language (no F-bombs), violence, disturbing subject matter, and references (not overly graphic) to rape, kidnapping, child abuse/neglect/abandonment, etc.

Fingerprints of Previous Owners, a debut novel by Rebecca Entel, offers a story about duality, racism, worth, and identity, enhanced by strong imagery.  While I appreciate the author's careful exploration of her themes, I had a difficult time engaging with the tale itself.  The characters are bland, the prose is uneven (choppy, fragmented sentences but long, dense paragraphs/chapters), and the plot meanders here, there, and everywhere.  In short, the book's boring.  Although the action picks up toward the end, not much happens throughout the rest of the story.  The only reason I ventured beyond the first couple pages of Fingerprints of Previous Owners is because I had promised to review it.  Otherwise, I wouldn't have bothered.  I still find the idea/symbolism of a hoity toity American resort built on top of a ruined slave plantation intriguing; I just wish this novel's execution had been better handled.  Oh well.

Grade:

for language (a couple F-bombs, plus milder expletives), violence, sexual innuendo, and disturbing subject matter

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of Fingerprints of Previous Owners from the generous folks at Unnamed Press via those at TLC Book Tours.  Thank you!

A humiliating rejection in London sends Lord Philip Hamilton looking for a far-off place to hide while he mends his broken heart.  Oakely Park, his father's sugarcane plantation in Jamaica, seems to fit the bill perfectly.  Except, of course, for the country's oppressive, interminable heat; the inadequate, untrained household staff; and a cruel, intimidating overseer who sets Philip's teeth on edge.  The 29-year-old may be a spoiled dandy who knows little about island life, but he's determined to make his new situation work.  He'll ensure the plantation continues to turn a profit, while searching for a wealthy wife who can help him increase his holdings.  Philip has had enough of love; a profitable business transaction is all he desires from marriage now.  

Just as Philip is feeling comfortable in his new role as a sugar baron, the body of an unconscious woman washes up on the shore of his property.  Judging by her injuries, she's been floating in the water for some time.  Not knowing what to make of this turn-of-events, Philip carries her to his home and waits for her to recover.  Anna (according to the pendant around her neck) awakens with no memory of her former life or the accident that pitched her into the sea.  Concerned, Philip allows her to stay as she regains her strength.  As the weeks pass, Philip finds himself thoroughly enchanted by Anna, despite his best efforts not to be.  His heart may be opening to the kind, beautiful woman, but a very large question remains:  Who is she?  Will her memory ever return?  And, if it does, will it compel her to leave Oakely Park behind, possibly forever?  Philip's got plenty to worry about already—the success of his crops, managing dozens of slaves, bloodthirsty highwaymen lurking between his plantation and the nearest port, pirates, the flattery of a very rich woman, etc.—but it's Anna who's most on his mind.  Who is the mysterious woman and how has she managed to creep so stealthily into his locked heart?

Although I don't read a lot of Regency romances, it's a genre I can always count on for light, pleasurable reading between darker, heavier fare.  Slipping into a glittering fantasy world of elegant dances, frivolous gossip, and genteel flirtation is just fun, you know?  Jennifer Moore's novels offer all this—and more.  Going beyond the typical banter and ball gowns, she explores meatier issues (like PTSD in Lady Emma's Campaign) which give her romances an atypical depth.  Simply Anna, Moore's newest, is no exception.  While the author makes a real effort to keep the novel light, she addresses a very dark problem: slavery in the West Indies in the 19th Century.  Through Malachi, Betty, Ezekiel, and others, Moore shows the cruelty and prejudice slaves often faced as the "property" of greedy sugar barons.  This element adds poignancy to a tale that's already full of heart, humor, and swashbuckling adventure.  At its center, though, Simply Anna is a story about two people discovering what's most important in life.  A quick, charming yarn, this one's too enjoyable to pass up.

(Readalikes:  Similar in tone to other novels by Jennifer Moore; also, those of Sarah M. Eden and Julianne Donaldson)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

*Sept. 14th: http://www.rockinbookreviews.com/, http://heidi-reads.blogspot.com/, http://minreadsandreviews.blogspot.com/

*Sept. 15th:  https://joyinthemoments.wordpress.com/, http://www.iamareader.com/, http://atransparentmom.com/

*Sept.16th:http://gettingyourreadonaimeebrown.blogspot.com/, http://katiescleanbookcollection.blogspot.com/,http://ilovetoreadandreviewbooks.blogspot.com/,http://whynotbecauseisaidso.blogspot.com/,http://www.ldswomensbookreview.com/wordpress/, http://mybookaday.blogspot.com/

*Sept. 17th: http://www.bonnieharris.blogspot.com/, http://singinglibrarianbooks.weebly.com/, http://ldsandlovinit.blogspot.com/

*Sept. 18th: http://fireandicereads.com/, http://lisaisabookworm.blogspot.com/, http://littlelightdesigncollective.com/category/entertainment/books/, http://www.blogginboutbooks.com/, http://booksaresanity.blogspot.com/

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Life is unbearably cruel for a 12-year-old Virginian girl who's been little more than a servant to her pa and brothers since her mother died in childbirth.  Abused daily by the males, she longs for escape.  For freedom.  When a runaway slave named Zenobia comes begging for help, the girl hides her, knowing she risks her own life to do so.  Protecting Zenobia gives the girl an idea—maybe she can run for her freedom, too.

Hiding during the day, running at night, the girls flee toward a Quaker settlement called Watertown.  As they dodge slave traders and other dangers, the two form a strong friendship.  Zenobia gives the girl a name—Lark—and shows her that, despite Lark's pale skin, the girls are more alike than different.  But will they accomplish their shared goal?  Will they reach freedom?  The girls would rather die than go back to their former lives—and that may be exactly what happens.

Running Out of Night, the debut novel of non-fiction writer Sharon Lovejoy, tells a tense, triumphant story about two brave girls fighting for the right to control their own destinies.  Drawing on old family letters as well as Lovejoy's lifelong interest in nature, gardening, and ethnobotany, it offers a unique twist on a familiar story.  I enjoyed it.

(Readalikes:  Reminded me of Black Angels by Linda Beatrice Brown)

Grade:

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Although her professor father can hardly contain himself at the prospect of studying history from the inside, 17-year-old Lucy Aimes isn't quite as enthusiastic.  She'd rather be hanging out with her friends in Chicago than playing Gone With the Wind all summer in hot, humid New Orleans.  Lucy promised her family she'd give life in Louisiana a shot and there is one thing she's excited about—interning with the preservation department of Le Ciel Doux, the antebellum sugar plantation/living history museum of which her father is the new curator.  It's impossible not to be intrigued by the elegant old mansion with its stately columns and ancient secrets.  Capturing it all with her trusty Canon is the one thing Lucy is looking forward to doing.

Le Ciel Doux's otherworldly atmosphere invades not just Lucy's camera, but also her dreams.  At night, she's plagued by vivid, unsettling scenes from a distant past she shouldn't recognize, but somehow remembers.  When she spies a mysterious stranger she's seen only in her night visions roaming the grounds of Le Ciel Doux, Lucy thinks she might be going crazy.  How can she feel so much for a person she doesn't know, a boy she's not even sure actually exists?

When a local girl is brutally murdered, Lucy knows the incident is somehow related to her strange visions.  Evil has descended on Le Ciel Doux once again and it's up to her to stop it, before it destroys everyone she loves—in the past and the present.

You may have noticed that I have a thing for novels set in The Big Easy.  The colorful, atmospheric portrayals of the city, with its unique history, culture, and customs, always capture my fancy.  So, when a book fails to bring all that richness to life, I feel a bit let down.  Which might explain why I found Sweet Unrest, a debut YA novel by Lisa Maxwell, disappointing.  The book's premise is intriguing enough, though not very original, so I had high hopes for a good read.  While the mystery did keep me flipping pages and I did enjoy the back-and-forth in time narration, Sweet Unrest just wasn't anything special.  The characters felt flat and cliché; the prose did a whole lot more telling than showing; the plot had some big holes; and the setting failed to come alive for me like it usually does in a NOLA novel.  I definitely wanted more from this book—better character development, a stronger voice, more dynamic writing, etc.  In the end, I felt this one was just okay.  Not horrible, not wonderful.  Okay.

(Readalikes:  Reminded me of Transcendence by C.J. Omololu and Ruined by Paula Morris)

Grade:

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Although no one is allowed to own Sugar anymore, she still feels like a slave.  Spending long, grueling days cutting sugarcane under the sweltering sun doesn't seem very free to her.  She longs for a life beyond River Road Plantation, where she can do as she pleases without the master or the overseer or even her adoptive mama, Missus Beale, looking over her shoulder.  It's only when Sugar's traipsing along the banks of the Mississippi River, exploring and make-believing with the master's son, that she really feels free.  Even then, she can't let her guard down—if anyone catches her and Billy together, they'll both be beaten.  

When Billy tells Sugar a secret—his father is hiring Chinese workers to labor alongside the former slaves in the cane field—she feels a tingle of excitement.  She's the only one, though.  The rest of the plantation workers fear for their meager wages.  They look at their new co-workers with suspicion and doubt.  Sugar can't understand the tension as she finds the Chinese men fascinating.  There's one thing she does understand—she's the only one who can bring all the workers together.  But how?  And what will it cost her to take such a risk?  Her reckless bravery always leads to trouble—will this time be any different?

Sugar, like Jewell Parker Rhodes' first middle grade book, Ninth Ward, offers readers a strong, capable heroine who uses her wits to rise above a difficult situation.  Although she possesses courage and wisdom beyond her years, Sugar's childlike enthusiasm and imagination guarantee she remains both believable and relatable.  Young readers will relish her mischievous streak, while applauding her efforts to promote understanding and peace among two very different groups of people.  Hers is a quiet, enjoyable story that reminds us of the humanity we all share, regardless of our race or culture.   

(Readalikes:  Reminds me of I Thought My Soul Would Rise and Fly [Dear America: The Diary of Patsy, a Freed Girl] by Joyce Hansen)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for violence and scary situations

(Image from Amazon)

There's nothing Patsy Davis, a preteen slave girl, wants more than to go to school.  She longs to study with a real teacher, to get an education as rounded as those the master's children take for granted.  Most of all, she wishes she could stop hiding her ability to read and write.  If anyone on the plantation knew she'd been taught these illegal skills, it would mean severe punishment.  It's a risk she simply can't afford to take.  So, she pours all her yearnings into the diary one of her charges gave her as a joke—it's the only way she can keep her heart from bursting with all the hopes and desires she keeps hidden inside of it.

When the Civil War ends, granting slaves the right to schooling, Patsy can hardly contain her excitement.  But, as the months pass, it becomes obvious that the master has no intention of fulfilling his promise to bring a teacher to his South Carolina plantation.  Disappointed and angry, Patsy can think of only one viable solution.  It's a crazy idea, but maybe, just maybe, she can start a school all on her own.  Does she have the courage to defy her master?  Is she even capable of being a real teacher, with her shyness and stuttering?  And what will happen when everyone knows about her secret reading and writing?  Is she brave enough to face the consequences, whatever they may be?

Originally published in 1997, I Thought My Soul Would Rise and Fly: The Diary of Patsy, a Freed Girl by Joyce Hansen, was recently re-issued along with other books in the popular Dear America series.  These historical novels feature stories about young girls living in the U.S. during periods of great change.  Since they are all told through diary entries, the novels offer a reading experience that is both intimate and exciting.  All the heroines in the series are strong, courageous young women who must face trying circumstances.  As they strive to solve their problems, they discover they're tougher and more powerful than they ever believed.  Patsy is no exception.  Her story offers a unique glimpse into the post-Civil War experience of freed slaves and teaches an important lesson about not just recognizing your strengths, but also using them to help others.  It's another satisfying installment in an always enjoyable series.

(Readalikes:  Other books in the Dear America series; the historical American Girl novels are also similar)

Grade:

 for some intense situations

   

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of I Thought My Soul Would Rise and Fly: The Diary of Patsy, a Freed Girl from the generous folks at Scholastic.  Thank you!

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

"'I know, Ezra, that I tend to be a bit impulsive at times, but it all seems so reasonable at the time I do these things and so unreasonable when everyone looks back at what happened and what I did (468).'"   

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

It must be too early in the morning for writing plot summaries, because the words just aren't coming to me today.  Luckily, someone's already done the work for me.  Here's the polished, professionally-written back cover blurb for The Kitchen House:    

Orphaned during her passage from Ireland, young, white Lavinia arrives on the steps of the kitchen house and is placed, as an indentured servant, under the care of Belle, the master's illegitimate slave daughter.  Lavinia learns to cook, clean, and serve food, while guided by the quiet strength of her new family.                                                                                                                                                                                                                               In time, Lavinia is accepted into the world of the big house, caring for the master's opium-addicted wife and befriending his dangerous yet protective son.  She attempts to straddle the worlds of the kitchen and big house, but her skin color will forever set her apart from Belle and the other slaves.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Through the unique eyes of Lavinia and Belle, Kathleen Grissom's debut novel unfolds in a heartbreaking and ultimately hopeful story of class, race, dignity, deep-buried secrets, and familial bonds.    

Sounds intriguing, right?  It is.  As Lavinia's pulled into the warm embrace of Belle's family (though Belle, herself, remains standoffish), the reader comes to love them as well.  It's difficult not to become absorbed in their dramas and heartaches, of which there are, of course, many.  Lavinia's stunningly naive, sometimes too much so to be truly believable, but she's also a sympathetic character whose trials are many.  The reader feels for her as well, especially when she makes disastrous mistakes that will inevitably lead to only misery and pain.  If The Kitchen House sounds like a dark, haunting tale, that's because it is.  But it's also a rich, affecting story about the true meaning of family and the desperate lengths we will go to in order to protect those we love.  I read it in one sitting; it's that compelling.  

(Readalikes:  Reminded me of other stories about slavery and class/racial struggle, like The House Girl by Tara Conklin; The Cutting Season by Attica Locke; The Help by Kathryn Stockett; and others)

Grade:

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Using professionally-written book summaries instead of composing my own (admittedly sub-standard) versions always makes me feel like a lazy bum.  You're just going to have to trust me on this one, though, because I simply could not have created a better, more compelling synopsis of The House Girl by Tara Conklin than this one:

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

When Sarah Carr's husband drowns, the 17-year-old widow is left penniless and alone.  She has no family to take her in, no one at all—except for the babe growing inside her.  Throwing herself on the mercy of a brother and sister-in-law she barely knows, Sarah hopes for the best.  But it's not to be.  Sold into slavery, she's herded aboard a rat-infested ship and taken from Cornwall to the American Colonies to be an indentured servant.  With no means of escape, she puts her life in God's hands, praying to Him daily for deliverance.  

In the midst of her struggles, Sarah meets Alex Hutton, a handsome doctor whose kindness stuns her.  Never has she had a man treat her the way he does.  But, she's a lowborn servant girl and he a gentleman doctor.  It's ridiculous for her to imagine building a life with him.  And yet, she does.  When Alex declares his love for her, Sarah's joy is complete.  He's her savior, her love, the man she wants to marry.  If only she were free to choose him.  She's not—as a woman and a servant she has no rights at all.  

Soon, Sarah's torn from Alex, but she can't give up hope.  Once again, Sarah must give herself over to God's will.  He won't let her down again.  Will he?  Armed only with her faith, she will face every danger, risk everything, if only for one more chance at love—at life.

I've read plenty of books about slavery, but none featuring a young, white woman sold into bondage.  Any human being treated so cruelly is abominable, of course, but it does make for an intriguing subject for a novel.  Unfortunately, Beyond the Valley by Rita Gerlach just doesn't live up to the potential of its premise.  Part of the problem is Sarah herself.  While she spends lots of time reacting to the things that happen to her, she doesn't spend more than a few pages acting to change her situation.  Already a rather flat character, Sarah's also a weak heroine—not good things in a character-driven novel.  Gerlach's dull prose doesn't help matters.  It's just not strong enough to make the story really come alive for the reader.  I do appreciate the fact that Beyond the Valley is a clean, gentle, faith-promoting novel, I just wanted more from it.  

(Readalikes:  Hm, I can't really think of anything.)

Grade:  C

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  PG-13 for violence, scenes of peril and mild sexual innuendo

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of Beyond the Valley from the generous folks at Abingdon Press via those at Pump Up Your Book Promotion.  Thank you!    

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Caren Gray never intended to return to the Louisiana plantation where she grew up.  Serving in the "big house" was her mother's ambition—never hers.  But, here she is anyway, walking the land where slaves once toiled.  If she'd been born 150 years earlier, Caren would have been working alongside those dark-skinned workers—her ancestors—cutting cane, polishing the master's silver, and raising a family in the tiny slave cottages that still stand on Belle Vie's vast grounds.  Instead, she makes good money managing the plantation, inviting everyone from schoolchildren to senior citizens to visit and learn from its history.  Maybe it's not the career she imagined for herself, but it works for the 37-year-old single mother.

Then, comes a terrible discovery:  the body of a young migrant worker is found on the grounds of Belle Vie. Murder.  Caren doesn't recognize the dead woman, but the vicious killing rocks her to her core.  She's always felt safe at Belle Vie (the plantation's ghosts notwithstanding), but now she worries—are she and her 9-year-old daughter safe living in such an isolated spot?

As the police struggle to find the murderer, Caren finds herself and many of the people she works with at the center of the investigation.  Caren knows she didn't commit the crime, but who did?  Was it someone who knew the woman well, a fellow laborer, perhaps?  Or a local, upset with the migrant workers for "stealing" jobs that could belong to him?  And then there's Groveland—plenty of people are angry with the corporation's aggressive land-grabbing tactics.  Could a fanatic protester have gone too far?  Or is the killer something less down-to-Earth?  Because, as no one but Caren knows, this isn't the first murder to have happened on the grounds of Belle Vie.  Maybe the slaves are finally getting their revenge ...

Although I didn't care much for Attica Locke's debut novel, Black Water Rising, I loved her sophomore attempt.  The Cutting Season offers just about everything I look for in a literary thriller—a twisty plot, complex characters, a vivid setting, skilled writing, etc.  Atmospheric and haunting, the story kept me mesmerized from beginning to end.  I don't give out A's very often, but this one definitely deserves—and receives—high marks from me.    

(Readalikes:  Reminds me a teensy bit of Those Across the River by Christopher Buehlman)

Grade:  A-

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  R for strong language (a dozen or so F-bombs, plus milder invectives), violence and mild sexual innuendo/content

To the FTC, with love:  I received an ARC of The Cutting Season from the generous folks at Harper Collins.  Thank you!