Stable the Bull, Free the Muse!

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The Girl in the Steel Corset
by Kady Cross

Pub. Date: May 2011
Publisher: Harlequin Teen
Format: Hardback, 473pp
Age Range: Young Adult
Series: The Steampunk Chronicles #1
ISBN-13: 9780373210336

 Synopsis from Amazon.com

In 1897 England, sixteen-year-old Finley Jayne has no one…except the "thing" inside her.

When a young lord tries to take advantage of Finley, she fights back. And wins. But no normal Victorian girl has a darker side that makes her capable of knocking out a full-grown man with one punch....

Only Griffin King sees the magical darkness inside her that says she's special, says she's one of them. The orphaned duke takes her in from the gaslit streets against the wishes of his band of misfits: Emily, who has her own special abilities and an unrequited love for Sam, who is part robot; and Jasper, an American cowboy with a shadowy secret.

Griffin's investigating a criminal called The Machinist, the mastermind behind several recent crimes by automatons. Finley thinks she can help—and finally be a part of something, finally fit in.

But The Machinist wants to tear Griff's little company of strays apart, and it isn't long before trust is tested on all sides. At least Finley knows whose side she's on—even if it seems no one believes her.

Jennifer's Review of The Girl in the Steel Corset

(There are no spoilers in this review.)

There comes a moment when you’re reading a book that you slip your bookmark between the pages and notice that you’ve just passed the halfway point. If it’s a tedious book, you might react with a resigned sigh. (Oh, man. Three hundred more pages of this lunatic chasing a whale.) On the other hand, if it’s a page-turner with interesting and extremely likable characters, and with a storyline that bounces along in a steady and comfortable rhythm, then you might regret that there are less pages awaiting you than there are lying behind you.

The Girl in the Steel Corset, from its beautiful cover to its final pages, is of the latter ilk. Yes, it has its flaws, some fairly irritating ones at that, but they're mostly steamrolled by the absorbing plot and immensely pleasing characters. Still, there’s a wee bit too much blushing going on, and a tad too many eyebrows “arch”. The lone American character at times sounds more British than he ought (or, conversely, like a stereotype of a cowboy). And I have to wonder if Cross is working on the old pulp mag penny-a-word scale: He raised a hand to his nose, and when he saw the blood on his fingers, he made a growling sound in his throat. Indeed. You know, he could have just "growled", and replacing the weak (and trite) phrase with a single, forceful word would have increased rather than sapped the potency of that sentence.

But my biggest complaint is that the author frequently exhibits a sameness in her prose. For example, midway down page 298: ...[Sam] demanded, coming at her like a bull at a red flag. Jump to the top of 299: Sam came at her. And finally, drop to the next paragraph: Sam raged, coming to stand in front of her, a bull ready to charge. Nice analogy the first time, not so much the second. Actually, it's the second and third times, at a minimum. On page 16, there's a different character, but the same verb and the same male bovine: He came at her again, like a bull. Cross tends to recycle her analogies -- an uninspired way to write that, by not challenging the writer, does her craft and her manuscript no favors. A writer's best friend is her Muse; allowing complacency to shut the door on inspiration and creativity is asking for stagnant prose, as is evident here when Sam's movements are described by the words “coming”, “came”, and “coming”. (Now that I think of it, monotonous prose is very pulp mag-ish, too! Just be aware of what you've already written, and if you're tempted to recycle an analogy, for example, force yourself to be a better writer by taking a few extra minutes to create something new.) Then there’s the character on page 309 who’s said to be profoundly glad that his friend was going to recover. A few pages later we are told once more that this character is profoundly relieved that his friend was alive. Clearly, there was some lax editing on the part of the writer and lazy proofreading on the part of both writer and editor. And that brings up what is without doubt the most nettlesome thing about this book: the dozens upon dozens of typos and other printing errors in the text. There are missing commas, commas where there shouldn’t be any punctuation, missing words, extra words inserted, and so on. A truly abysmal publication job, Harlequin Teen.

And yet, how good this book must be to overcome those difficulties and garner such a high rating! Well, actually, I’m not sure that good is the best word. Fun would be a better choice. It’s been a while since I’ve had such a blast reading a book. The romances (this is a Harlequin novel after all) are handled lightly, but are one of the highlights of the tale; there are good characters who struggle with the bad side of their natures, and bad ones you want to believe are better than they seem; and there’s just the right amount of humor to offset the drama. The steampunk elements are believable and enjoyable, and though they are an essential part of the story, the descriptions of machinery, etc., are easygoing and do not intrude on the narrative.

Oh, I could quibble over the muddled and ever so slightly contrived denouement. And I could complain about the author’s habit of adding descriptive sentences or phrases after "he said" that at times undercut the emotion being expressed by a character and/or interrupt the flow of a conversation. To see what I mean, let’s revisit page 299:

“It could have killed her,” Sam raged, coming to stand in front of her, a bull ready to charge. “She wouldn't let me die, but she risked her life for you. You are not worth her life. You're not worth her blood.”

Notice how Sam's anger dips after “raged”. The phrases that follow check the growth of his wrath (which is contrary to the violence about to pour forth from this outburst), as his subsequent statements are disconnected from “raged”. But read that paragraph aloud without the phrases following “Sam raged”. Now his anger, rather than slackening, gains momentum, and his act of violence erupts more naturally from his words. (In fact, removing the first phrase alone accomplishes the task almost as well.) Though such expository phrases are a common and useful tool for writers, Cross inserts an overabundance of them into her dialogue, and as a result some conversations feel choppy and bumpy. (More words, more pennies, I suppose.)

But darn it, reading The Girl in the Steel Corset is like having an uncomfortable seat at a terrific play. You squirm every now and then, and grunt out an “Ouch!” or two, but as the play progresses, your senses become enthralled by what’s happening up on the stage. And when you leave the theater, you do so energized and sporting a giddy smile. That was wonderful! you think, the uncomfortable seats of no consequence (until you get home and write your review of the play).

And if a sadness that the magic is over and the cast is gone tries to creep over you, it may be readily banished by the happy thought that this is only book one in The Steampunk Chronicles!

(A shorter version of this review was published in June 2011, on GoodReads.com.)

Research, Research, Research!

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Passion Play
by Beth Bernobich

Pub. Date: October 2010
Publisher: Tor Books
Format: Paperback, 367pp
Age Range: Adult
Series: Erythandra #1
ISBN-13: 9780765322173

Synopsis from Barnes & Noble

Ilse Zhalina is the daughter of one of Melnek's more prominent merchants. She has lived most of her life surrounded by the trappings of wealth and privilege.  Many would consider hers a happy lot. But there are dark secrets, especially in the best of families. Ilse has learned that for a young woman of her beauty and social station, to be passive and silent is the best way to survive.

When Ilse finally meets the older man she is to marry, she realizes he is far crueler and more deadly than her father could ever be. Ilse chooses to run. This choice will change her life forever. And it will lead her to Raul Kosenmark, master of one of the land's most notorious pleasure houses...and who is, as Ilse discovers, a puppetmaster of a different sort altogether. Ilse discovers a world where every pleasure has a price and there are levels of magic and intrigue she once thought unimaginable. She also finds the other half of her heart.

Jennifer's Review of Passion Play

(This review contains spoilers.)

The most important thing about telling a lie is to make certain its every detail is believable. If, under scrutiny, even a fragment of it breaks down, then the entire lie is exposed. Now, there is no 'lie' bigger than a work of fiction, especially a fantasy novel. Not only have the characters never existed, but their world does not, and has never, existed. But through the magic of suspended disbelief, we readily accept the validity of a novel's fictional world, and view as real and meaningful its characters and their actions, as long as every detail is believable.

Passion Play is two stories in one: the first is very good, the second is average. Story number one features a swiftly moving, well-written, enthralling plot, with a 15 year old girl as the winning protagonist for whom we root and with whom we suffer. So good were these first 100 pages that I had to force myself to put the book down. Unfortunately, after story number two began, I had to force myself to pick the book up.

What destroys Passion Play, where the 'lie' begins to break down, is the male lead, Lord Raul Kosenmark. When we first meet him, he is described as having a very high, feminine voice. Shortly after, we find out that, in order to prove his loyalty so that he might serve on the king's Inner Council, he underwent castration. As an adult. Five minutes of research would have informed the author that castration after puberty does not change the male voice. And since his condition, this error, is brought to the attention of the reader every chapter or two, there is no way to forget that what we are reading is not real.

What's unfortunate is that it is totally unnecessary to the plot. Remove every instance of Raul's eunuchism from the story, and nothing is lost. Return it, and nothing is gained. (In a world of magic, an oath of fidelity could have been enforced magically: One willingly accepts into one's body an infusion of magic that, like a bomb, may be detonated by the king at the first sign of treason.) Furthermore, we learn that Raul’s condition may be reversed through magic, which nullifies the value of that type of oath.

This is not, however, the book's only breakdown. In the last 200+ pages, Ilse, our heroine -- who is 16 now -- becomes the chief confidant and prime counselor to Lord Kosenmark (who is in a life or death struggle to prevent a war and save the kingdom). None of the other, older members of Raul’s inner circle seem to think her youth and inexperience in affairs of state is a problem. Yet this is the same girl who, but days before, was sorely distressed over the teasing and pranks of the mean girls who worked with her in Raul’s kitchen. But perhaps those other characters may be forgiven because, once out of the kitchen, Ilse thinks and behaves like a 25 or 30 year old woman. Since the author seldom mentions her age, the reader must constantly remind herself that Ilse is still a teenager.

After the excitement of the early chapters, the plot in the latter chapters drags to a halt. The most exciting thing that happens is opening the mail and attending the staff meeting afterward. Literally. And daily. Ilse is Raul's secretary (and later, his lover), so she examines all of his correspondence, much of which concerns the intrigues revolving around the “shadow court” he has established. Then she and Raul, and whoever else may be in-house that day, sit around and discuss the content of the letters. Except for one, hard-to-believe battle (Ilse, barely trained in self-defense, defeats two well-armed professional soldiers), the bulk of the action -- battles, murders, the machinations of Khandarr, the evil magician -- takes place off-stage, the reader learning about these things through letters. It is very hard to be concerned about threats to characters you've never met, or to fear a faceless foe. (Khandarr appears once, briefly and ineffectually, when he magically crashes a meeting, looks around ominously – in actuality, checking attendance – and then is shooed away.)

Bernobich's conversations flow easily and naturally, and, in the first part of the book anyway, the characters, even the minor ones, come to life. Her depictions of Ilse's rape and later love-making are tasteful, without undue details or sensationalism. For the most part, her prose is lively and free of cliches, though she frequently exhibits a first novelist's tendency towards verbosity: Raul “vented a sigh” (for 'sighed'); during sword exercises he “made a noncommittal noise” ('grunted'); at dinner, he “made a noise in his throat” (‘cleared his throat’); and early on, we come across the bane of poorly written juvenile fiction (or the pride of melodramatic parody) when Ilse sheds “hot tears”. These are common mistakes of a first-time novelist, and too often, sins of the genre, but the editors should not have allowed them to reach press.

The author mentions in her acknowledgments that it took her “many years to write” the book, that she “fumbled toward the story” she wanted to tell, and that one person advised her where to start, and another where to end, the novel. Passion Play is dedicated to the redoubtable Sherwood Smith who, Bernobich writes, read “draft after draft, giving me feedback on prose and plot and characters.” Toss in the editors she credits with supposedly saving her book from “all kinds of inconsistencies and infelicities”, and it’s clear that many share the blame for its problems.

At the end, when Ilse and Raul agree to separate for safety's sake (a questionable decision that feels contrived), I felt no sorrow, only joy that, for a few pages at least, I could again spend time alone with Ilse. If the sequel concerned only her, I would read it, although given that she and Raul will be miles apart, I fear the plot will once more involve opening endless amounts of mail.

(Review originally published October 22, 2010, on GoodReads.com.)