Book 183: The Doll Funeral by Kate Hamer (Review requested by Faber&Faber)

When I was asked by Kate Hamer's publicist to review an advanced copy of The Doll Funeral as part of an international book blog tour, I was psyched. I've never participated in a blog tour before, but it's brilliant publicity for Hamer, and I always try to support my fellow writers. One day I intend to publish my own book, and I hope to have the same support from my fellow bloggers.

Onto the review.

The Doll Funeral is written in two eras: the 1970s and the 1980s, and jumps back and forth between the two. It's set in England, in the Forest of Dean, which seems to me like a place that is real and not real at the same time. If it were a person, you might say the Forest has one foot in the grave.

The first story is that of Ruby, an orphan who - as the story opens - occupies her own living hell. She has an abusive foster father and a weak, enabling foster mother. When things begin to spin out of control, Ruby embarks on a journey that propels her toward her birth parents, for better or for worse. In the end, everything Ruby thought she knew about her life is turned upside down. She finally understands she is equipped with everything she needs to find her way home, which isn't what she expected, either.

It is also the story of Anna, an unwed pregnant teenager who decides to keep her child despite all her family's arguing for the contrary. She is plagued by problems of both the internal and external variety which lead to her demise. I'm only telling you this because anyone with an eye can see from the start that Anna's life is on a collision course with tragedy. And that's all I can tell you about Anna without ruining the story. 😉

The Doll Funeral was a little slow at first, but I knew Hamer was building up to something big. As soon as I realized there was a supernatural aspect to the story, I was hooked. I was invested in Ruby's fate. Shadow's every appearance piqued my curiosity. The strange characters of Crispin, Elizabeth, and Tom had me guessing about their importance to the plot of this story since they seemed to come out of nowhere. And by the way, I was confused for just about the entire book, but I knew Hamer intended to keep me that way as long as possible so that when she revealed the truth, I'd eat it up. And I did.

The Doll Funeral was a masterpiece of hidden suspense. I'm interested in reading it a second time to see what I missed the first time through. I'd definitely recommend it.

As most of my followers know, I'm more of a nonfiction gal, but I enjoyed The Doll Funeral and I look forward to reading more of Kate Hamer's stories. Follow @kate_hamer on Twitter or visit https://www.katehamer.co.uk/ to learn more about her work. You can buy The Doll Funeral on Amazon.

Great job, Kate!

❤❤❤

P.S. Here are the other bloggers slated to review The Doll Funeral in January 2018. Please visit each of them and enjoy!

Book 182: Looking for Jane by Judith Redline Coopey

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I love the book club at the Smyrna Public Library, because each person recommends books they like or think are important. These folks have taught me to open up and try new things, and also remind me to be very deliberate about what I recommend for my own selections.

Because there was a woman in a bonnet and a guy on a horse on the cover, I honestly thought, Oh no, this is a western, a genre I wrote off a long time ago. (Yes, I judged this book by its cover.) Turns out, I am a dumbass. It was darn good historical fiction, set in a time I knew nothing about - the 1890s. And my curiosity was piqued.

I began reading this book and I immediately fell in love with the main character, Nell. She's an orphan with a cleft palate, newly freed from her convent upbringing, and convinced Calamity Jane is her long-lost mother. After leaving the convent, Nell embarks on a journey to Deadwood, South Dakota. I won't tell you all the details, but I do love dynamic characters, and Nell is forever changed by her journey. Her trek across half the U.S. doesn't end the way she expected, but she winds up better for it in the end. The plot was pretty good, and had some twists I hadn't anticipated.

The author Judith Redline Coopey is a history buff from Pennsylvania. I loved her style and her informed writing. From her bio online:

Historical fiction is my genre -- no bodice ripping romances for me -- just well researched interesting stories of those who've gone before. I write the kind of stories I like to read: of strong people facing the challenges life lays before them, following their inner light and living responsible lives. 

Anyway, thanks to the person that recommended this book, because I'll definitely be reading Coopey again. 

Book 175: The Butchering Art: Joseph Lister's Quest to Transform the Grisly World of Victorian Medicine by Lindsay Fitzharris

Well folks, I apologize for this review coming so late, but I just could not seem to find the time between now and last Wednesday to sit down and bust this one out. And I loved it, so that's saying something.

Lindsay Fitzharris has written a book that is both grisly and disgusting but really, really good. It was well written, and she damn well did her research, as the final 50 pages of references attest. It made me squirm in discomfort and horror and I loved every page of it.

The Butchering Art is the heroic story of Joseph Lister, the man who introduced the use of antiseptics to the medical community in Edinburgh, Scotland, then to London, England, then to the world. As a child, Lister was fascinated with his father's microscope. Later, when he entered the [utterly insane] field of surgery, he used the microscope to identify microbes responsible for causing post-surgical infections that were literally killing entire hospital units full of patients. Lister experimented with a variety of chemical antiseptics, wound dressings, and stitching materials, and eventually revolutionized the world of medicine. The guy was a genius, and made every surgeon before him look like a complete idiot. They weren't too happy about that, but had to eventually adopt his practices because, quite simply, they worked.

This book is not for the faint of heart or the weak of stomach. Fitzharris provides the most awful details about the most revolting surgical practices common in Victorian-era medicine. She tells you more than you ever wanted to know, and proves once again that truth is indeed stranger than fiction. This was better than any horror fiction ever written. (Sorry, Mr. King, but I still love ya.)

I was thoroughly disgusted and totally riveted, and I fully intend to make this book part of my permanent collection.

Lindsay, send me a signed copy! It would make my day!