My life in books

These days, one of my go-to authors when I’m in need if a comfort read is Peter Tremayne. His Sister Fidelma mysteries just seem to fill a special little place in my soul without being particularly demanding. I’ve been reading them in order, and am currently on the fifth of the Fidelma novels, The Spider’s Web.

In this latest case, Sister Fidelma, once again reunited with her friend and fellow jurist, the Saxon monk, Brother Eadulf, travels to a remote mountain area to investigate the murder of a local chieftain and his sister.

The case would seem to be open and shut - the accused was found beside the chieftain’s body, bloody knife in hand. But Fidelma will not allow anyone to be punished without first having his right to defend himself. But how will she ensure that, when the accused is not only physically deformed, but deaf, dumb and blind from birth?

In fact, Fidelma finds that, far from being a straightforward case, the motivations for these murders - and other strange events that occur during the course of the investigation - are complicated, and have their root in dark secrets more than twenty years old.

One of the aspects of this particular chapter that Caught my attention was the exploration of attitudes toward the disabled. The accused, Moen, is assumed by most to be little more than an animal. The local priest, a convert to the Roman church, holds his condition to be a sign of sin and the work of the devil, and has persuaded the other people living in the chief’s rath, or stronghold, to abhor him. Even Eadulf has little sympathy for one so disabled, citing Saxon customs that would have had Moen killed at birth. But as Fidelma explains the Brehon laws, disabled persons are entitled to respect and care, and to mock or harm a disabled person carried a greater penalty than to so offend an abled person. And her quest to find a way for Moen to tell his story leads to the revelation that he is in fact fully competent intellectually and has learned, thanks to a patient Druid, a way of signing using the Ogham alphabet, and is, in fact, more literate and educated than many of those around him.

A particularly satisfying read.

So, I’ve been doing a fair bit of comfort reading lately, in between the other things I want to read, like Hugo finalists and some social justice and #ownvoices reading. My current comfort go-to series is the Sister Fidelma books by Peyer Tremayne. The Sister Fidelma books are soothing things for me, for all their murder and even occasional danger for the main character. There’s something about this precise combination - the idea of a female cleric who solves crimes in a historical setting that, to be honest, I find particularly fascinating because of my own Celtic heritage - that appeals to me. So...

Shroud of the Archbishop, the second volume in the Sister Fidelma mystery series by Peter Tremayne, follows closely on the events of the first volume. After the death of Archbishop Deusdedit of Canterbury, mentioned in the first book, Absolution by Murder, his chosen successor, Wighard, has travelled to Rome to be confirmed in his position by the Pope. As his secretary, Brother Eadulf has naturally accompanied him. And fortuitously, Sister Fidelma has also been ordered to Rome, to present the new Rule of her abbey of Kildare to the Holy Father for approval.

When Wighard is murdered and an Irish monk working in the Vatican’s Foreign Secretariat is arrested as the most likely suspect, the political implications of the case demand an unusual degree of sensitivity. Thanks to their successful unraveling of the murders during the Synod of Whitby, Sister Fidelma and Brother Eadulf are called on to investigate the murder and determine the truth.

Their investigation tajes many twists and turns, as not one, but many crimes, past and present, are found to have come together in a vast sequence of murder, false identity, theft and vengeance. And again, what makes the tale particularly fascinating to me is the wealth of historical detail that includes everything from a discussion of the relics collected by Empress Helena to the fate of the great Library of Alexandria.

A sold mystery, with a wonderful historical setting and a formidable detective. I find myself very much enjoying Sister Fidelma as a character. Her profession, status, and cultural background give her an at times almost modern feeling, as a woman sure of her abilities and rights. And I’m liking the development of the relationship between Fidelma and Eadulf - which, in a time before celibacy became a requirement for members of religious orders, could develop in so many interesting directions.it’s nice to see a man appreciate a woman who is at least as intelligent and educated as he is.

Suffer the Children, the third of the Sister Fidelma novels, begins in a way that speaks to some of what I particularly enjoy in these novels, which is the (somewhat idealised) depiction of medieval Ireland as a place where women held status in society unparalleled in the rest Europe. It’s a world where a woman like Fidelma has no fear of riding alone from her home at the abbey of Kildare to Cashel, to answer a summons from her brother Colgu, the heir to the king of Muman, one of the five ancient kingdoms of Ireland. And a world where a woman can be a high-ranking official of the judiciary, or any other profession.

As one would expect, Colgu has a murder mystery for Fidelma to solve, one that threatens the peace between Muman and the neighbouring kingdom of Laigin. Dacan, a scholar of great renown and one with family ties to the king of Laigin, is dead, murdered at the abbey of Ros Ailithir. Brocc, the abbot of Ros Ailithir, and cousin to the king of Muman, is charged with responsibility for the crime. Because of the status of the deceased, the king of Laigin, as kin of the deceased, has demanded the return of Osraige, a disputed petty kingdom currently owing homage to the king of Muman, as an honor-price from the family of the person accused of responsibility for the death.

The king of Cashel is dying of plague, and Colgu, as tanaiste, or heir-elect, has commissioned Fidelma to investigate the murder and argue the case before the High Court at Tara in three weeks time. On her way to the abbey, located in the clan lands of the Corco Loígde, who are close kin to the king of Osraige, Fidelma is presented with another concern. She and her escort encounter a band of warriors, burning a village where, the leader claims, the plague has been active. But there are bodies in the village of people who have clearly died from violence, not plague, and Fidelma finds survivors, a young nun and a few children, who confirm the massacre of everyone else in the village. Worse, the leader of the band is the local chief and magistrate, who sits on the council of Salbach, the chieftain of the Corco Loígde.

Once more, Fidelma is faced with a crime - indeed, a series of crimes - that combines violence and politics. At the heart of the case is the search for the identity of the hidden heirs of the ancient princes of Osraige, who ruled before the clan of Corco Loígde. Everyone involved with the case has been looking for them, and the final pieces of the puzzle will not fall into place until Fidelma herself can find them.

The fourth Sister Fidelma novel, The Subtle Serpent, opens with a double mystery. Fidelma is on her way to the religious community of The Salmon of the Three Wells, located within the kingdom of her brother King Colgu, to investigate the murder of an unknown woman - her body found naked, headless, in a well, clutching a simple cross. While en route, the ship she is travelling on encounters an abandoned Gaullish merchant ship. Her cargo holds are empty, there are signs of blood recently shed, and perhaps worst of all, in one of the cabins Fidelma finds a book she had given as a gift to her dear companion of earlier adventures, Brother Eadulf.

As Fidelma seeks to solve both mysteries, she becomes aware that there is something very strange going on in the abbey and the surrounding community. There is open conflict between the abbess, Draigen, and the local chief, Adnar. Draigen herself is both arrogant and ambitious, and seems at times to be trying to impede Fidelma’s investigation. The abbey itself seems subtly wrong to Fidelma - there are few older members, and one of them, Bronach, is treated with much disrespect, as is Bronach’s protegee, Berrach, a severely disabled sister. Two sisters are missing - overdue to return from an errand - and though the younger one’s physical description matches the body, the abbess insists it cannot be her. And there is something strange about the abbey itself - sometimes strange noises seem to issue from the earth below the abbey, which Draigen says are the result of tidal water filling caves that riddle the area.

Meanwhile, Ross has been investigating the abandoned ship, and has discovered that it was brought to shore nearby, by a party of Irish warriors of the clan Ui Fidgenti, who pit the crew to work in the local copper mines. The ship itself vanished overnight while the Ui Fidgenti celebrated.

Fidelma finds things to concern her at Asnar’s stronghold as well. Draigen’s former husband, Ferbal, a bitter misogynist, lives in the compound. Adnar has guests - Torcan, prince of Ui Fidgenti and his companions, and Olcan, son of the local overlord, both families with ambition and grudes against her brother. And everywhere, in the abbey, on the abandoned vessel, even on the books in the abbey, Fidelma finds traces of an unusual red clay, commonly found in copper mines.

Another satisfying mystery from Peter Tremayne, complex and rich in atmosphere, drawing on both Irish history and legend, and the history of the Irish and Roman churches and the conflicts between them. Fidelma must uncover the secrets of the community, and of politics and greed, to solve the mysteries, and then, perhaps most satisfying of all, she sets forth fir new adventures with Eadulf at her side.

Hidden Youth: Speculative Fiction from the Margins of History, edited by Mikki Kendall and Chesya Burke, is a companion volume to the Rose Fox edited Long Hidden, also published by Crossed Genres, the sadly defunct publishing house that, in its short life, nurtured some remarkable authors and released some important volumes of speculative fiction.

The focus of this anthology is marginalised youth - narratives of children and adolescents from many settings and time periods who share the experience of being outside, oppressed, ignored, othered, and sometimes worse. They represent those who exist in the margins of history and society.

Evocative as most of these stories are, not all reach the same heights of overall craft. Some deal in familiar times and places, others unveil pieces of history not often explored in fiction, or for that matter, in factual narratives. And as always in any collection, some touched me deeply, and others, even if technically admirable, were less engaging. Among my personal favourites are:

“A Name to Ashes,” by Jayme Goh, which tells a story I was not aware of, that of Asian workers pressed into slavery in Cuba under Spanish colonial rule.

“Trenches,” by Sioban Krzywicki, about a young trans person who magically comes into her own reality after leaving home to fight in the trenches during WWI.

“The Girl, The Devil and the Coal Mine,” by Warren Bull, in which a 12-year-old black coal miner’s daughter takes on the Devil in a battle of wits to save her brother.

“How I Saved Athens from the Stone Monsters,” by Erik Jensen, is a bawdy yet heroic tale of two child prostitutes in ancient Greece, a cityful of animated phallic statues, and Isis’ interest in a new penis for Osiris. Not recommended for folks with castration anxieties.

“North,” by Imani Josey is the story of a young black woman who moves north during the Great Migration, where she is given a choice between comfort, and love.

These and other stories collected here shine a light on times, places and people that history tends not to care about, letting us see into hidden lives. There is fantasy, and magic, and strange creatures, but there is also truth and history.


*There are 22 short stories in this anthology, 11 written by women, 10 written by men, and one written by a person who chose not to indicate their gender.

Whispers of the Dead is another enjoyable collection of pieces by Peter Tremayne concerning the deductive skills of seventh century Irish religieuse and legal advocate, Sister Fidelma. These short stories are drawn from all periods of of Fidelma's career, and include a story in which she impresses her teacher while still in her early years of study with the perceptiveness, her logical reasoning and her passion for truth. Written later in Tremayne's career, the narratives flow more smoothly and the tics are less pronounced. And the mysteries are fun. And the look at life in the seventh century - and all the issues which divided the Roman and Celtic churches - is something I'm liking quite a bit. I continue to be a fan.

Anya Seton's historical novels were best-sellers in their time, narratives featuring, for the most part, resilient and determined women, their stories told in elegant prose, their lives and times well researched. Two of her books, Katherine (about Katherine de Roet, mistress and third wife of John of Gaunt, ancestress to the Tudor line) and Green Darkness (a complex tale of forbidden love and reincarnation set in two times) are among my favourites.

The Mistletoe and the Sword is one of Seton's lesser-known, and lesser-regarded novels. Intended for a young adult audience, it is a shorter and simper tale than most of her books. Set in Roman Britain during the time of the Iceni Rebellion, the protagonist is a young Roman soldier who falls in love with a British girl who is of the family of the Arch-Druid of Britain - assuming there ever really was such a thing. (Seton's research is solid on the Roman aspects of her subject, but she wrote during that period of time when the state of research into Celtic society tended toward romanticism.)

A light and pleasant tale, with a nice balance of action and romance, reminding us of a time when both young men and young women might be expected to read and enjoy the same books.

In The Welsh Kings: Warriors, Warlords and Princes, historian Kari Maund offers a rich and detailed summary of the complex political and military history of mediaeval Wales from the end of Roman rule to the defeat of Llewelyn ap Gruffudd, the last native Prince of Wales. Maund's book is narrowly focused, with no attention paid to the cultural, social, economic or religious history of Wales; it is rather, as one reviewer notes, "a journey through the endless dynastic infighting of mediaeval Wales." [1]

As such, this is not, I suspect, a book for the casual reader with little or no previous knowledge of Welsh history. Politically speaking, mediaeval Wales was divided into many small kingdoms; only on rare occasions would one man be able to bring a majority of these under one united rule, and none of these remarkable rulers were ever able to found a lasting dynasty. Wales had only a weak cultural tradition of single-successor inheritance (whether based on primogeniture or some other basis, such as the tanistry system found in Ireland or Scotland); more often than not, lands and lordship were divided between sons, leaving little opportunity for the creation of a dynasty by amassing power and wealth over time and concentrating this wealth and power in the hands of a single heir. Thus the few men who were truly Princes of Wales - Hywel Dda, Maredudd ab Owain, Gruffudd ap Llywelyn, Llywelyn ap Iorwerth, Llywelyn ap Gruffudd - gained and held their crowns through a combination of dynastically-conscious marriages, conquest, political diplomacy, personal charisma and occasionally alliances with external powers.

Maund follows the multiple lines of kingship in the various kingdoms of mediaeval Wales - Gwynedd, Deheubarth, Powys and Gwent being the largest and most powerful - paying particular attention to the great princes who did achieve sone measure of influence over most of Wales.

A storehouse of information about the many royal houses of Wales this would make an excellent reference work for anyone with an interest in the subject, but is probably not a book for the casual reader.

[1] http://www.gwales.com/goto/biblio/en/9780752429731/

The genre of fantasy is rapidly subdividing these days, and I'm not entirely certain what the distinctions are any more. I am sticking with urban fantasy as something that ha
a definition of urban fantasy as something that involves humans interacting with non-humans (vampires, demons, werewolves, elves, whatever) and the use of magic or psychic powers virtually indistinguishable from magic, in an urban setting that is directly based on real world settings (modern-day Toronto or Chicago or whatever). It may involve crimes or mysteries, or it may involve supernatural romance. Or both. I"m not all that fussy.


Jes Battis, Inhuman Resources

Battis' OSI series has held my interest through three volumes to date, and I have the fourth in my TBR pile. The premise is that there is an investigative force, CORE, complete with Occult Special Investigators, that is charged with the responsibility of dealing with all sorts of non-human and occult communities (vampires, necromancers, sorcerers, and so on) secretly co-existing with "normate" human society, investigating crimes involving members of these communities, and keeping the whole business quiet so those ordinary humans can never know. The stories focus on OSI Tess Corday, a woman of mixed heritage (and by that I mean human and demon) and her investigative partner (and roommate) Derrick Siegel. Together they solve crimes! - with the aid of an interesting collection of supporting characters, of course. But behind the episodic nature of the occult crime procedural is a sweeping arc that has to do with Tess' demon heritage.


Katharine Kerr, Licence to Ensorcell

With her lengthy Deverry Cycle epic fantasy series completed, Kerr has decided to explore the urban fantasy/paranormal romance genre, and in my opinion she quite nails it with this first volume in the new Nola O'Grady series. O'Grady is a an operative with a secret agenct whose mandate you can probably figure out right away, and her new case is to find a serial killer targeting werewolves. It's personal - O'Grady's brother was one of the victims. Her partner on the case is a hard-boiled Isreali operative, assigned to work with her because the serial killer has claimed victims in both Israel and the US. I like this new series, and the next volume is in my infamous TBR pile.


J. A. Pitts, Black Blade Blues

This is a first novel from author J. A. Pitts, and there is some roughness to it, but the premise - a lesbian blacksmith who moonlights as a props manager and is part of a medieval reenactment society - was not the sort of thing I could resist. And there are dragons! To continue the refrain, the next volume is in my TBR pile.


Kevin Hearne, Hounded

Another first novel, and a very fine one too. But how could I resist a novel about the last of the Druids, currently living in Arizona under the unlikely name of Atticus O’Sullivan. The rest of the cast of characters includes his Irish wolfhound, a werewolf and a vampire who happen to be his lawyers, several Celtic deities, the spirit of an ancient Hindu sorceress and a coven of witches. And it's funny too - Hearne has a pleasantly dry wit that is well integrated into the style and storytelling. The next volumes is... oh, you know where it is.


Tate Hallaway, Almost to Die For

You, constant reader, already know that I think very highly of Lyda Morehouse's work, and of course you are aware that Tate Hallaway is the name Morehouse uses for her contemporary supernatural urban romance fantasy work (did I cover all the bases there?). This is the first volume in a new YA series about a teenaged girl whose father happens to be the leader of the vampires in her city, and by vampire tradition, that makes her his heir. I liked it, and... you guessed it, the next volume is in my TBR pile.


Tate Hallaway, Honeymoon of the Dead

And, to balance all these new series, this is the last volume in Morehouse/Hallaway's Garnet Lacey series. Garnet and her vampire lover Sebastian von Traum are finally married - but Garnet's past gets in the way of their planned honeymoon in Transylvania. A good ending to an enjoyable series. No more volumes to put in my TBR file. Sniff.

A few years ago I read the first volume of Juliet Marillier's Sevenwaters Trilogy, Daughter of the Forest. It's a tale set in a semi-historical Ireland just around the time that Christianity is beginning to arrive and is loosely based on the traditional Grimm Brothers fairy tale of the Six Swans. I enjoyed it enough to want to read the rest of the trilogy, which I finally got to earlier this winter.

Son of the Shadows
Child of the Prophecy

Unlike many trilogies, this one actually got stronger as the series wore on, possibly because, once the maiden has finally succeeded in her long and lonely task of weaving the coats to turn her brothers back into human form, the preset material of the fairy tale is over with and Marillier begins to develop situations, plotlines and characters that, while certainly still well-grounded in Irish myth and tradition, are more surely her own imagining.

Marillier's tale follows three successive generations of the family of Colum of Sevenwaters and encompasses conflicts over land and power, issues of changing traditions and beliefs, and struggles between sorcerers and Druids, the Fair Folk and the Folk under the Earth, leading to a final confrontation that brings all the conflicts together in a culmination of a ages-old prophecy. Aside from her explorations of Celtic myth and tradition, what drew me into the trilogy was the fact that in all three volumes, the central protagonists are the women of Colum's family, who must each in her own way thread the balance between all the opposing forces until the time comes at last to choose and fulfil the prophecy.

In The Sevenwaters Trilogy, Marillier has written an enjoyable and interesting tale for those with a fondness for Irish or Celtic themed fantasy.

Thomas the Rhymer, by Ellen Kushner

Ellen Kushner’s retelling of the Scottish legend of True Thomas, a man gifted – or cursed - with truthtelling and prophesy by the Queen of Elfland (with a touch of Tam Lin thrown in for good measure) won both the World Fantasy Award and the Mythopoeic Award for best novel of 1990. It’s not difficult to see why. The characters live and breathe, the story – rounded out and given beginnings, ends, and meanings – rings true, and it’s a pleasure to read.

Thomas is a wandering harper, a carrier of news and gossip and tales of love and adventure, and a bit of a rogue, especially as regards his dalliances with women, both high-born and low-born. In the book, his tale in the world of men is told through the eyes of others – an older crofter couple, Gavin and Meg, with whom the wandering harper visits when he is in the neighbourhood, or fallen upon hard times, and their neighbour, the young and beautiful Elspeth. It is only during his seven years in Elfland – where Thomas himself cannot speak save to the Queen of Elfland herself – that the book gives us his point of view.

The strength of the novel is the depth and honesty of its characterisation, and the simplicity of its unfolding. There is no complex plot – although there are a few unexpected turns – and only in the Elfland section do we see anything like the complicated motives and interactions that are such a important and well-crafted part of some of Kushner’s other novels. What there is, is truth.