Book reviews: the good, the bad, the ugly … and the wonderful

Book reviews: the good, the bad, the ugly … and the wonderful

A good review can leave a writer depressed if it’s obvious the reviewer hadn’t read the book. Even rave reviews can be frustrating if there isn’t one quotable line. And then, of course, there are the “condemn with faint praise” reviews. Worse is the despair of not having any reviews at all.

It’s hard not to get emotional!

But then there are the supremely gratifying reviews by readers who get it. Nothing could be finer.

I felt this way about the review of The Game of Hope by Grace O’Connell in Canada’s publishing magazine, Quill & Quire. There are a number of quotable quotes, but this is my favourite:

Gulland has built a career writing historical fiction for adults, including a bestselling trilogy about Joséphine Bonaparte (Hortense’s mother). Her pitch-perfect balance of lush period details and character-driven narrative shines again in The Game of Hope.

I love this too:

In Gulland’s hands, Hortense’s life and history, as dramatic as it is, never overwhelm her character. Her friendships, her music, and her mother remain steady anchors. Even with Joséphine and Napoleon as supporting characters – ones so historically charged that they could easily take over a narrative – the story remains firmly Hortense’s.

What’s especially nice about this is that the reviewer understood some of the challenges of writing biographical historical fiction, likely because she is an author herself. :-)

Finding focus

Finding focus

I’ve been visually challenged this summer. Two cataract surgeries have made reading difficult. That’s a problem for a writer! For a time I felt like Mr. Magoo.

Having worn glasses for over 50 years, it felt strange not to be wearing them. Plus, there was this thing called vanity: frankly, I look better in glasses. I had a reading/speech on The Game of Hope to give to a fairly large crowd, so (confession) I ordered plain $15 frames on Amazon, just for the “look” of them.

Ah, that was better! I felt more like myself.

I  printed out my reading in a large font so that I could read it and highlighted dialogue.

(I bend the corners of the pages to make them easier to turn.)

As a visually challenged writer, I’ve been exploring using dictation when writing on a computer. I’m doing this now, in fact. Que padre!

Fortunately (or not), I’m not the sort of person to throw things out, so I went through a drawer of old eyeglasses and found a pair that made light reading and computer work more manageable.

Even so, reading is a strain, so I’ve been “reading” audible editions like crazy — and loving them. I will be putting up a post about a number of outstanding titles soon.

All in all, these adjustments have led to interesting discoveries. Colors are so much more vivid now. The blues! I might feel like Mr. Magoo when it comes to reading, but I’m more like Alice in Wonderland in this beautiful, many-hued world.

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The cure for sixes and sevens

The cure for sixes and sevens

Last Tuesday was publication day in the U.S. for The Game of Hope. I told my husband that I’d been walking in circles all day. “I’m at sixes and sevens.”

He’d never heard the expression. I explained that it meant feeling out of sorts, disordered and in confusion.

In search of the origin of the expression “being at sixes and sevens”

Where had the expression come from? Certainly it makes no sense. There is nothing I like better than digging into history to find the origin of a curious expression, especially on a publication day when I am, in fact, at sixes and sevens.

And so, from Wikipedia:

An ancient dispute between the Merchant Taylors and Skinners livery companies is the probable origin of the phrase.The two trade associations, both founded in the same year (1327), argued over sixth place in the order of precedence. In 1484, after more than a century and a half of bickering, the Lord Mayor of London Sir Robert Billesden ruled that at the feast of Corpus Christi, the companies would swap between sixth and seventh place and feast in each other’s halls.

The two guilds, the taylors and the skinners, have continued to swap the sixth and seventh place to this day, resulting in seven centuries of confusion. Impressive.

Unlucky 13?

Another theory is that 6 + 7 = unlucky 13, but this seems a little simplistic to me.

Gambling away your life’s fortune?

A third explanation is that the expression originated in a 14th century game of dice: when betting on six and seven risked your losing entire fortune.

From Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde, 1374 — “Lat nat this wrechched wo thyn herte gnawe, But manly set the world on sexe and seuene.”

Given all this, my favoured explanation remains the ever-quarreling taylor and skinner guilds.There is nothing quite like a muddle that endures for centuries.


Part of the confusion about publication day for writers is that it is usually a quiet day, with little happening (especially if you live out of the country where your book is being published). There’s often quite a bit of commotion and stress leading up to that one day, and then bam! Nothing.

I am part of a wonderful fiction-writers’ collective; we support each other, consult about titles, covers, and various woes, but mainly we help broadcast news about member publications. As these posts started appearing on Social Media, I felt heartened: something was happening! I especially liked this post:

“Sandra hits the sweet spot, a book for young adults that adults of all ages can’t put down. And it’s fascinating.” — Martin Fletcher, author of The List, Jacob’s Oath, and a soon-to-be blockbuster Promised Land.

The Game of Hope in the Wild

I also was greatly cheered receiving this photo taken in the US by Karen Salvatore, Evidence!


And now?

An ATM machine in New York city.

An ATM machine in New York city.

Half a week later, my husband and I are in New York/Brooklyn with our son, Chet, and his girlfriend, Kendra (daughter of Karen mentioned above).

We’ve been eating fabulous food, drinking fabulous drinks and having a merry time. On Monday I will lunch with my PenguinRandomHouse publicist, Jennifer Dee, and then go to Books of Wonder to sign some books

Some New York highlights, so far:

Dinner at Le Cou Cou. Delicious!!!

We followed this memorable meal with cocktails at Attaboy, considered one of the best cocktail bars in the world. (Check out this article in the New Yorker.) You wouldn’t guess its popularity from its secretive locked door.

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Inside was a small (very small!) dark bar with a lovely vibe. One tells the bar-tender — I would say drink creationist — the mood or flavour of the drink you have in mind, and are then surprised by an entirely original result. The cocktail I had was amazing!

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Follow this up the next day with a leisurely and supremely tasty brunch at Dumbo House (our son’s club), followed by a three and a half hour nap (!), followed by yet another delicious meal at Metta in Fort Green, Brooklyn, and I have to conclude that a foodie holiday in New York and Brooklyn is a perfect cure for being sixes and sevens.

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Life on the road — my mini tour full of surprises

Life on the road — my mini tour full of surprises

I’ve been on the road, first launching and promoting The Game of Hope in Toronto, then a long drive home to unpack, regroup, and repack before heading to Montreal for the wonderful first (of many, we hope) Montreal YA fest.

It has been fantastic. At the Penguin launch in Toronto, an older woman leaned in to whisper confidentially, “You’re my favorite writer.” Such confessions are sweet. At an interview following (I don’t yet feel I should mention names), the interviewer told me that she loved The Game of Hope and went on to read every one of my other novels. That made me speechless.

That isn’t to say that everyone loves The Game of Hope — there have been some readers who do not — but overall, I’ve been very, very pleased.

The Game of Hope cards

At the Penguin launch, I had each person who lined up to have their free book signed draw a card from a deck of fortune-telling cards of “The Game of Hope” (to keep as a bookmark), and read its meaning in a tiny guide. The expressions of recognition were wonderful to see: one young woman would be getting married, another would get a promotion. Both were quite pleased. Readers love it! Of course I did not include cards that might have a negative connotation in the deck.

It was a special treat to have my step-granddaughter, 11-year-old Ellie and her mother Cara present. Ellie is reading The Game of Hope and offered shyly to a group, “And it’s really good!”

The Montreal YA Fest: such a blast!

My experience at the Montreal YA Fest was amazing, but in an entirely different way. I only sold one book (!), but I met over twenty wonderful YA authors. I’m accustomed to writers of adult fiction; let me tell you, writers of YA fiction are a different breed altogether. They are loud and rambunctious, delightful! I couldn’t buy their books at the festival unfortunately — recent back problems have forced me to be very careful about luggage weight — but as soon as I got home I put in the orders, and they are starting to arrive in waves.

Two wonderful YA novels

Already I’ve read one absolutely wonderful YA novel: 32 Questions that Changed My Mind About You by Vicki Grant. Don’t you just love a novel that compels you to stay up way too late? That makes you teary and full-hearted? This was such a one. Witty and real, I adored it.

Now I’m reading E. K. Johnstons’s novel That Inevitable Victorian Thing, a futuristic novel set in the past. (Figure that one out.) I.e. Victorian corsets with technological sensors that ease up as needed. It’s delightful, and when I’m not reading it, I’m thinking about it and can’t wait to get back to it.

The wild and wonderful YA world

In general, this immersion into the wider world of YA has been like an explosion of creative imagination for me; in a YA novel, anything is possible.

The YA Fest was extremely well-organized, with many panels for participants to choose from, great food to eat, a fun photo booth (which I’m sorry I missed out on), as well as a button-making table. Here are mine:

How cool is that? I especially love the dismayed look on the face of Little Bo Peep. Moi.

The photo at the top is from A Novel Spot bookstore in Entobicoke, Ontario. Don’t you just love it? Indie bookstores are so great. The mystery woman is Katie Middleton, the bookstore’s owner. Her hair matches perfectly!

A wonderful audible edition of The Game of Hope

A wonderful audible edition of The Game of Hope

I’m writing this in Toronto, a long way from home. Tomorrow I have a full schedule of two interviews, a book store signing, and then, in the evening, a book launch of The Game of Hope.

I sent off the final corrections to The Game of Hope last October, and since then I’ve been researching and outlining my next YA novel about a young falconer in Elizabethan England. There are no raptors in The Game of Hope, so I thought it time to reacquaint myself fully with Hortense’s world before having to answer questions about it.

audible edition of The Game of Hope by Sandra Gulland

Fortunately, I was able to download the audio edition of The Game of Hope this morning, and on the long drive down to Toronto today, I listened to it. And was charmed! Say hey! I think it’s quite a good story, and the narration by Janick Hebert is simply delightful.

Canadians can now get the audio edition of The Game of Hope on Audible, Kobo, Google Play or on Overdrive through your public library. On June 23, it will be available in the US.

I sincerely recommend it!


Anyone else out there still warmed by the glow of Harry and Megan? I have been!

This is my favorite photo of the pair in the open carriage. (It was snapped by Yui Mok, a photographer based in the UK, as their carriage went under an overpass.)


I initially intended to write this blog about an interesting article about writing historical fiction. However, “The Tourist, the Expat and the Native: A Traveler’s Approach to Crafting Historical Fiction,” by Mary Volmer deserves more than a passing reference. More on that anon…

For now, Hortense is about to meet the man she loves, and — frankly! — I’m curious to hear what happens!


Toronto photo by Sidra Saeed on Unsplash.

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To all the mothers in my life

To all the mothers in my life

I’ll begin with my mother, Sharon Brezee Zentner, shown here with me and our daughter Carrie, who is now a mother herself.

And then there is my grandmother May Brezee, who was a special person in my life. She is shown here having just been introduced to her great-granddaughter, Carrie. May had a number of children of her own (four surviving), and loved having grandchildren. “My little lambies,” she called us. She would make cakes that looked like bunnies at Easter, and surround them with flowers.

I would now and again, in a temper, run away to May’s house (my mother would call her, “Sandra’s on her way.”), and May would sit me down with an unglazed pot on her patio, and get me to decorate it. Then there would magically appear on the table beside me a freshly baked thick slice of brown bread, lathered in butter. Mothering at its best!

May was an amazing potter and fabric artist. There was no limit to her creativity.

My mother, Sharon Zentner, was also a creative crafts-person. Here is one of her many hooked rugs:

This is a detail of one of her many beautiful quilts:

In her 20s, she painted, as well. I’ve framed and hung one of her paintings in the dining room downstairs. It is one of my favorites, a painting of me (far right, clothed), and “the devil in me” (naked, and pondering mischief). It is set in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, where we lived for a time.

Our daughter, Carrie Sudds, has carried on with the family fabric-art tradition. (My own first book was on Seminole Indian patchwork, very nearly published.) Here is a detail from a beautiful quilt she has made for me.

And here’s one of the gorgeous quilt she recently made her father:

I want to also mention my mother-in-law, Margaret Gulland, with whom I had a dear relationship.

We were very relaxed with each other, and could chat for hours. She loved the Royals, so I always brought her the latest magazines, and, after her eyesight failed, I would read them to her. (We would have had a lot to talk about these days!)

Margaret was very fond of her youngest child’s husband, Jean-Ives Paquette, who sadly passed away last night. He was a dear man, and his affection for Margaret was obvious. I’m comforted in the thought that Margaret is with him now.

I wish you a happy Mother’s Day, and healing hugs to those of us who have reason to mourn.

 

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