The Vengeance by Emma Newman: review

4/5 stars on Goodreads

The Vengeance by Emma Newman

The Vengeance starts The Vampires of Dumas series, which I find both an intriguing and a slightly misleading series name. Vampires barely make an appearance, and it isn’t set in Dumas’ own time either. But it is inspired by his novels set centuries before, in the era of musketeers and swashbuckling pirates.

The book starts as a pirate story. Morgaine is a daughter of a female pirate captain sailing in the Caribbean. She’s lived her entire life at sea and loves it, and knows nothing of her mother’s life back in France. But on her deathbed, her mother makes a confession that sends her reeling—and heading across the ocean to France.

Morgaine isn’t her daughter. The real mother has searched for her for twenty years and she needs Morgaine’s help. Fired up by her anger towards the fake mother, but also anger towards the person who ordered her death, she sails to France to rescue her mother and avenge the death of the woman she thought of as her mother.

She is wholly unprepared for the polite society. But so is the society unprepared for her. And she isn’t given a chance to find her land legs. People are after her, trying to kidnap her left and right. One of them succeeds. He claims to be her father, and tells her not to go after her mother. She doesn’t listen.

Joining her on her quest is a young woman, Lisette, whom Morgaine’s father has hired as her (much needed) governess. Together, they go to see and rescue Morgaine’s mother. But things aren’t at all like she had imagined. And it may turn out that the one person she needs revenge on is the one she wanted to connect with.

This was a good, complete story, and clearly a stand-alone. Either there are different characters in the next book, like often in Ms Newman’s series, or Morgaine’s next adventure will be something completely different. It wasn’t a long book though, and the pacing was a bit off. 

Too much time was spent on the voyage to France, even though it didn’t affect the story in any way. And the book was closer to 70% mark before the women headed out to find Morgaine’s mother. That journey was mostly skipped, even though it had a great impact on the endgame. Perhaps the story wasn’t meant to conclude here originally, with maybe the second book about the events with Morgaine’s mother, which would explain the pacing.

Biggest sufferer was the relationship between Morgaine and Lisette, which happened sort of behind the scenes. One minute it didn’t exist and the next it was there. It was lovely that the women found each other, but if you’re reading this for a romance, heightened emotions and angst, that won’t be there.

The supernatural element was sidelined too. If there hadn’t been the series title revealing it, I wouldn’t have expected it when it emerged around 65% mark. It would’ve been an excellent plot twist. Now, I kept expecting it the entire book and was a little disappointed with how long it took. But we got an intriguing glimpse and I hope the follow-ups will dwell in the supernatural world more.

The ending was a bit hasty, and the reader is left with many questions about the other players who wanted to kidnap Morgaine, and what their agenda was. It was slightly too convenient as well, but it was done on Morgaine’s terms, and it was good. The writing was great and kept me engaged. I’d read more of this series, whether it’s about her or other characters.

I received a free copy from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

The Fascination by Essie Fox: review

2/5 stars on Goodreads

The Fascination by Essie Fox

The Fascination is a stand-alone historical novel set in Victorian England. It’s about the seedier underside of the society, the fascination of Victorians with macabre and everything different. It’s about found families and acceptance too, and written well enough that I was wavering between three and four stars. And then, in the last paragraph, the author slaps the reader with a wet dishrag, yelling “April Fools. Question everything you’ve read.” So here I am, questioning.

The setting is Victorian only because the author says so. The descriptions are sparse and could be from any era. Author especially fails to grasp the material culture and the value of money. It’s difficult to believe that a travelling musician could have a large house with papered walls and rooms for several people, and a boat too, without independent means, which there apparently weren’t. A penniless apprentice of an anatomist definitely can’t afford tailor-made suits (in plural) and colourful silk waistcoats. A troupe of freaks doesn’t get to perform in one of the finest theatres in London, and they do not get costumes made of fresh materials for every production. The book is set in a fantasy, where these things are possible so that the reader can feel happy for the characters and where they end up in life. It almost worked.

There are two point of view characters, Keziah, whose chapters are told in first person past tense, and Theo, whose chapters are in third person present tense, which took a moment to get used to. For all that the reader gets an insight in Keziah, she’s curiously bland. She doesn’t have interests, skills, hopes or dreams until at the very end. She exists solely to tell the story of her twin sister, Tilly.

A violent incident in Tilly’s childhood has stopped her growth when she was five. She’s an adult woman in a child’s body. But she’s beautiful, can sing, and loves to perform, so she has found a place on stage. The plot revolves mostly around her, her addiction to opium and her abduction by evil people who covet everything different.

We only get Keziah’s view of Tilly. She observes her constantly, yet not once does she wonder what Tilly’s life is like, being different and constantly gawped at. We’re not given scenes either, where people would treat Tilly, or the other different characters, badly. It’s presumed. There are no descriptions of everyday life where Tilly’s life might be difficult because of her size. The idea is probably to show Keziah’s acceptance of her sister the way she is, but it comes across as wilful blindness.

That is doubly so when it comes to Theo, and it’s a deliberate choice by the author. He’s a grandson of an aristocrat who gets thrown out of his home without a penny when the grandfather finally manages to produce a male heir. Lord Seabrook has an unhealthy fascination with the macabre and his collections include human specimen preserved in formaldehyde. It doesn’t come as a surprise that he turns out to be the bad guy of the story.

Theo is saved by his governess who arranges him an apprenticeship with an anatomist, a disgraced doctor who runs a museum of macabre. Theo wants to become a doctor, but lack of funds makes it impossible. Or that’s what the reader is given to understand.

The last paragraph of the story reveals that Theo is physically different too. Since the author wants to keep it a secret, I won’t reveal how—though other reviewers have done so. By leaving the revelation at the end, the author probably wants the reader to question their prejudices. Keziah certainly points it out.

But it doesn’t work. The reader needs a chance to realise their prejudices exist and that’s only possible if they know the pertinent facts about the character and can work them along the way. Even if the author doesn’t want to state the difference outright, there were plenty of chances for giving the reader hints, to make them question their understanding of Theo along the way.

Theo is a point of view character who never questions his difference, doesn’t rue it or wonder if it hinders his chances in life. He doesn’t ask if he’ll ever end up as a specimen in his grandfather’s collections. He’s utterly indifferent about it. The author fails to get inside the character to show the reader what it feels like to be different in a society that reviles those that aren’t perfect. He turns out to be gay too, which we only find out from another character, not him.

According to Keziah, people don’t notice Theo’s difference, because he’s such a charismatic person. But he’s not. He’s reticent and apologetic, colourful waistcoats and all. And so, instead of turning the mirror at the reader, the last sentence screams GAWP, and we gawp. And we see that Aleski, the character with hirsutism is only accepted as a bedfellow after he shaves his face, and Martha only gets the life she’s dreamed of after her cleft mouth is operated. The reader is disgusted, but not with Theo who is a lovely person, or the other characters, except maybe Keziah. The reader is disgusted with the book and its author.

I received a free copy from Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.

The Carnival of Ash by Tom Beckerlegge: review

5/5 stars on Goodreads

The Carnival of Ash by Tom Beckerlegge

The Carnival of Ash is an alt-history novel set in the 16th century Italy, at the time of city states. It takes place in Cadenza, a made-up city somewhere near Venice. Where Venice takes pride in its glass industry, Cadenza’s entire existence is based on words. Poets are revered, and the leader of the town is chosen by his ability to turn a beautiful phrase.

And then he dies, and a politician more concerned with finances and impending attack by Venice is chosen to lead. It starts a series of events that plunge the city into chaos and destruction.

This is a book that takes the poetic form very seriously. It’s divided into twelve cantos that each tell a story of a different character. Some of them touch the lives of other characters who in turn get to tell their stories; some only make one appearance. In a relatively short space, with carefully chosen words, the reader is shown a crucial moment, or gets a longer account of the character’s life.

At first it seems like the form is all there is. But gradually, a story emerges. Not everyone is happy about the state of affairs in Cadenza; not everyone revered the late leader; not everyone becomes a great poet; and not everyone makes it to greatness with their own words—or in their hometown.

A few characters rise above the others. Carlo is an aspiring poet who arrives at Cadenza just as the leader has died. With brashness of a youth, he tries to make a name for himself, only to be ridiculed; the worst fate there is. Honour demands that he clears his name with a glorious act, by killing himself or burning the city. Instead, he ends up living in the basement of a burned church with an eccentric gravedigger. Eventually, he makes friends among the poets and ends up being at the right spot at a crucial moment.

There are sisters Vittoria and Maddelina. The former is an ink maid whose sole purpose is to write letters, the latter a free spirit befriending the young poets. Vittoria is plunged into a personal crisis with the leader’s death, leaving Maddelina the thankless job of trying to save her.

Then there is a group of women convicted of real or imaginary crimes to live in a convent with their tongues removed, their sole task to remove all mentions of the rivals of the former leader from the books. After his death, the women decide to take revenge on him by removing his memory, but things get out of hands.

Even the characters that make only a brief, onetime appearance have interesting stories. There’s a murder mystery and a delightful union of long-lost lovers. They may seem like separate stories, but each contribute to the whole, telling a story of corruption and a fall out of glory. And all the while, behind the scenes, the ordinary people of Cadenza prepare to take to arms to clear the town of poets and the tyranny of words for good.

This was an excellent book. The world felt authentic, even though it didn’t pile on historical details, and even with some fantastical elements in the mix, it didn’t feel purely like historical fantasy, although it is marketed as such. The characters were all interesting, and the slowly unfurling descend into chaos was believable. Language was beautiful, and in the end, the form served the story very well. If you like historical fiction, alt-history, or historical fantasy, this is a book for you.

I received a free copy from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

What I’ve read this summer

I’ve somehow managed to avoid updating my book blog this summer. But I haven’t stopped reading. I’ve read ten books since my last post, but since I don’t have the energy to write a post for each, you’re getting one big post. The books fall neatly in three categories, contemporary romances, historical romances, and urban fantasy, so I’ll lump them together that way.

Beard science by Penny Reid

First up, the contemporary romances. They’re from one author, and belong to one series: Winston Brothers by Penny Reid. I introduced the series in the previous blog post where I reviewed Truth or Beard, which I loved. I skipped the second book—and didn’t miss anything—to the third book, Beard Science. It was every bit as wonderful as the first, as was the third in the series, Beard in Mind, though I had some issues with that one, namely that there weren’t enough chapters in the heroine’s point of view. We only had her point of view when she visited her therapist. It defined her through her mental illness, which was the opposite of what the book tried to achieve.

Beard in Mind by Penny Reid

What made these three books so charming where characters who, after finding someone to love, strived to become better persons because of that. Each book had secondary plots too, to add some spice into the love-stories, but nothing to distract from the main story.

Dr. Strange Beard by Penny Reid

However, the fourth book in the series, Dr. Strange Beard, was a great disappointment. I would’ve given it two stars, but refrained from giving any. It had nothing of the charm of the previous books. The characters were selfish and didn’t strive to become better, and their love-story suffered greatly for it. I didn’t root for either of them individually or as a pair. But the worst part was that there was a totally unnecessary five year jump to the future. During that time, interesting things had happened to the characters of the previous books, and I felt left out—a feeling which didn’t disappear the whole time. And the secondary plot that had been building in the previous books was abandoned completely. The book was so bad that I gave up on the series altogether.

It's Getting Scot in Here by Suzanne Enoch

Next up, the historical romances. It’s Getting Scot in Here by Suzanne Enoch was a solid but unexciting Regency romance that I gave three stars to. She’s digressed far from the books of her early career where plot twists made my stomach ache in anticipation. But it wasn’t a bad book. Three brothers are pawns in their parents’ bad marriage, and try to organise their lives despite. I’ll keep my eye on the next books, but I’m not sure I’ll read them.

The Governess Game by Tessa Dare

The Governess Game by Tessa Dare is a second book in her Girl Meets Duke series. The first book was great, but this one was barely ok. I gave it three stars anyway, as it had some humour, and the characters weren’t your everyday aristocrats. But there were too many plot-fillers and out-of-the-hat events that weren’t foreshadowed and which ended up meaning nothing. But the sample chapter to the next book in the series seemed promising, so I guess I’ll read that one when it comes out this month.

Lucifer's Daughter by Eve Langlais

And finally, the urban fantasy, which is a more eclectic bunch. I started with a steamy paranormal romance, Lucifer’s Daughter by Eve Langlais, the most prolific indie author that I know. There’s a new book every month. In her customary style, the book was funny, steamy and over the top. And while it was a first in a series, the ending was satisfying enough, and I don’t feel the need to continue with it.

Brave the Tempest by Karen Chance

Brave the Tempest by Karen Chance is book nine and the latest in her Cassandra Palmer series. I think the books keep getting better in the sense that the author has gotten better at writing them. They used to be mad dashes from one plot to another, which often left the poor reader behind. But in the past couple of books, there has been slower sections too that allow for reflecting the plot and, in case of this one, all the previous books too, which was much needed. In this book, Cassie finally turns into an active operator in her life, instead of being pushed this way and that, and that made the story more enjoyable too.

The October Man by Ben Aaronovitch

The October Man by Ben Aaronovitch is a shorter book in his Rivers of London series, which I love. This one I almost skipped though, because it’s set in Germany and doesn’t have Peter Grant or any other familiar characters. But it was a good, solid detective story in the style of the other books. Tobi was much like Peter, and the plot was familiar in its oddity. There were even some rivers involved. I’m not sure if the author will continue with these characters, but perhaps there will be a cross-over book later.

Reticence by Gail Carriger

Reticence by Gail Carriger ends The Custard Protocol, her third Parasolverse series. It’s been very uneven four books, with the first being good, and third a horrid disappointment in all respects. But this fourth book was a charming ending to it all. Percy, the hero, has been my favourite throughout the series, and Arsenic, the new addition, was a good match to him. The plot was fairly simple—as opposed to some of the earlier books—and the love-story was satisfying, although it developed so slowly that I was sure there wouldn’t even be a kiss before the book ends. As it was a series ender, most favourite characters from throughout the books made an appearance, which was nice.

Angelfall by Susan Ee

Angelfall by Susan Ee was a new book to me, but it was published already in 2012. It’s marketed as a young adult book, and the age of the protagonist, Penryn, matches. But the hardships she faced and survived made me often think that she must be twice the age she was.

It’s set in a post-apocalyptic world. Angels have come to earth and destroyed it completely. The few survivors have soon learned that nothing is off-limits when it comes to survival. Penryn has to look after her paralysed little sister Paige, and her mother who is schizophrenic and violent. Having learned to survive with her mother, Penryn has an advantage when it comes to coping with this new world. And then the angels steal Paige, and in order to get her back, Penryn teams up with a wounded angel Raffe.

Though the plot is fairly straightforward, the things Penryn has to go through to achieve her goal aren’t your everyday YA. The book is fairly violent, and the imagery, especially towards the end of the book, is somewhat disgusting even. The romance, which has become a hallmark of YA, is almost absent. But the gritty style works, and carries to the end. I instantly picked the second book too.

So this was what I’ve read this summer. I try to return to regular service from here on. Stay tuned.

Should we care about the accuracy of historical fiction?

I’m a historian by education and a voracious reader. However, I don’t read much historical fiction – or watch historical movies, for that matter. Every student of history knows why. The incorrect historical facts and details mar the enjoyment of a good story.

I used to read plenty of historical fiction though, back before I studied history. It’s what got me to studying it in the first place. I was able to immerse myself in the past worlds without a care for the accuracy. I was rather sure, actually, that authors made up most of the details anyway. Not everyone things that way though.

It seems the word ‘historical’ makes readers assume a certain level of accuracy in books. Readers of historical romances, which often are more story-driven and less limited by the accuracy of details, are as unforgiving about wrong details as readers of more serious historical fiction. Readers trust the authors of historical fiction. Georgette Heyer has taught generations of readers and writers about the life in Regency England. Even if there were incorrect details in her books, no one would care at this point; her world is accepted as the truth.

But what about the kind of historical fiction that comes with the authority of academic learning and exhaustive research? The Guardian brought up the issue in a recent column, “How true should historical fiction be?” The writer, author Stephanie Merritt, has a clear view:

novelists are not history teachers. It's not our job to educate people, and if we start using words like “duty” and “responsibility” about historical fiction – or any fiction – we’re in danger of leaching all the vigour out of it with a sense of worthiness.

While authors “have a responsibility to not present readers with deliberately false information about a historical character or period”, the story should come first.

The trouble for an ordinary reader, or even a historian, is that we don’t always know when the author invents characters or events, or adds details simply because they fit the story. Even if readers assume that everything is invented, they can’t help but learn, the narrative helping with the process. And occasionally we learn things wrong.

Pretty much everything I know about the fall of Constantinople (1453) I learned from Johannes Angelos (English: The Dark Angel, 1953), a 1952 book by Finnish author Mika Waltari. Finnish literary tradition maintains that he did exhaustive research for his historical novels and that all details are accurate. But he was one of the most prolific writers of his time – of any time, really – so how much time did he actually have for research. His historical fiction is so rich in detail, however, that it takes a dedicated reader or a specialist to detect the inaccuracies. Like with Heyer’s books, the sense of historical accuracy is strong in his books, which trumps all other concerns.

I’ve never really needed what I learned from Johannes Angelos anywhere, so it doesn’t actually matter if I’ve learned something incorrectly. Most of what we learn from the historical fiction is purely for our own enlightenment. Nonetheless, it would be nice to be able to rely on that learning. A reader should know when the author deviates from historical accuracy:

if you are going to play fast and loose with historical fact for the sake of a good story, you'd better have done your research thoroughly if you want readers to take you seriously; only then will you have the authority to depart from those facts.

In the end, even historical fiction is bound by the rules of fiction, not fact, but also liberated by them: “By making clear that you're writing fiction, you claim the freedom to speculate, to stray beyond what is known, and so breathe new life into long-dead characters.”

As all historians know, “any attempt to recreate the past requires a leap of imagination.” This is doubly true for historical fiction. So perhaps I should get over myself and start reading historical fiction again for good stories, not for exercises in my learning. Who knows, I might even enjoy it.

(All quotes from the Guardian article How true should historical fiction be?)

***

I’ve been on an urban fantasy reading binge recently. I’ve read books that were published ages ago, but I haven’t had time for, such as the latest books in Patricia Briggs’s two series. I read Dirty Magic, the first book in a new series by Jaye Wells called Prospero’s War that came out a couple of months ago. All were very enjoyable reads. I read the latest Anita Blake book too, which didn’t reach the greatness of the earlier books in the series, but was much better than the previous book.

This week, I started a new series – new to me, the first book was published in 2006 – called Quantum Gravity by Justina Robson. The first book is called Keeping it Real. It’s urban fantasy set in the near future where some kind of quantum explosion has torn open the borders between various realms or dimensions, forcing humans to interact with elves, fairies and demons. The heroine, Lila Black, is a human cyborg, which makes her a fairly unique character. I’ve read about a third of the book and I like it so far.

I’ve also began to read a collection of short stories by Pete Langman called Black Box. Good, but grim, read. I have a hunch some of the stories may be well beyond my comfort zone.

The Kalevala

Tomorrow, February 28th, we celebrate our national epic, The Kalevala in Finland. It’s a compilation of 19th century poems collected by Elias Lönnrot (1802-1884). Before him, the poems had only existed in oral form, meant to be sung, but they were already disappearing. Lönnrot saved them and gave them the epic form. The first version was published in 1835. The first English translation is from 1888.

While never my favourite reading, The Kalevala is nonetheless part of my heritage. The stories are interesting. Complete with a creation myth, they depict life in the prehistoric Finland, with tribal clashes, lust, seduction, warfare and magic. It ends with an allegory of Christianity's arrival to Finland. They’re written in a unique Kalevala metric, but personally I like the stories best in prose form.

The Defence of the Sampo by Akseli Gallen-Kallela, 1886.

Here’s a small sample of the second rune, Wainamoinen’s sowing. The translation doesn’t do justice to the rhythm, but it’s the only one I could find.

Straightway rose a form from oceans,

Rose a hero from the waters,

Nor belonged he to the largest,

Nor belonged he to the smallest,

Long was he as man's forefinger,

Taller than the hand of woman;

On his head a cap of copper,

Boots upon his feet were copper,

Gloves upon his hands were copper,

And its stripes were copper-colored,

Belt around him made of copper,

Hatchet in his belt was copper;

And the handle of his hatchet

Was as long as hand of woman,

Of a finger's breadth the blade was.

Then the trusty Wainamoinen

Thought awhile and well considered,

And his measures are as follow:

"Art thou, sir, divine or human?

Which of these thou only knowest;

Tell me what thy name and station.

Very like a man thou lookest,

Hast the bearing of a hero,

Though the length of man's first finger,

Scarce as tall as hoof of reindeer."

Then again spake Wainamoinen

To the form from out the ocean:

"Verily I think thee human,

Of the race of pigmy-heroes,

Might as well be dead or dying,

Fit for nothing but to perish."

Answered thus the pigmy-hero,

Spake the small one from the ocean

To the valiant Wainamoinen

"Truly am I god and hero,

From the tribes that rule the ocean;

Come I here to fell the oak-tree,

Lop its branches with my hatchet."

Wainamoinen, old and trusty,

Answers thus the sea-born hero:

"Never hast thou force sufficient,

Not to thee has strength been given,

To uproot this mighty oak-tree,

To upset this thing of evil,

Nor to lop its hundred branches."

Scarcely had he finished speaking,

Scarcely had he moved his eyelids,

Ere the pigmy full unfolding,

Quick becomes a mighty giant.

*** 

Since last week, I’ve finished reading The Golem and the Djinni, and Do Unto Others. Click the names for my reviews of them. I enjoyed both books immensely. However, The Golem and the Djinni left me a little sad, and Do Unto Others mightily frustrated, like only short stories can. But both were well written, wonderful stories that I warmly recommend for everyone.

This week, I’m reading Wicked Business by Janet Evanovich. I have no excuse, other than wanting to give the series another try. There isn’t a third book in the series that I know of, perhaps mercifully so. The book is mildly entertaining, but it’s nowhere near the delightfulness of some of her earlier books.

Honouring the national literature

October 10th is the Aleksis Kivi Day in Finland. Kivi (1834-1872) was the first Finnish novelist to write in Finnish, which earns him the title of the National Author. Until him, Finnish was regarded inferior and unsuitable language for literature; the cultural elite came from the Swedish-speaking minority so the earlier Finnish literature is written in Swedish.

Seven Brothers (1870, Seitsemän veljestä in Finnish), the book that transformed Finnish literature, is his only novel; the body of his work consists of plays and poems. It’s the only work of his that I’ve read too, and I didn’t read it voluntarily. It was part of the school curriculum and, like all schoolwork, felt like a chore. I didn’t think I needed to read it anyway, because I knew what the book was about, having had seen at least two stage productions and a TV-series based on it.

In the end, I’m glad that I didn’t take the easy way out, because it’s a good book. For such a momentous book in Finnish history, it’s easy to read too, both fun and poignant. As the name reveals, it tells a story of seven brothers who live simple life in their country village, farming their land, minding their business. However, the modern world disrupts their lives in the form of the church and its demand the brothers learn to read if they want to be part of the society – especially if they want to marry. It doesn’t go well and, thoroughly incised, the brothers flee in the middle of an untouched forest – there were a lot of those still left in Finland – to start a new life unharrassed by demands they couldn’t meet. Eventually, though, civilisation wins and the brothers return home and become well-respected members of their society.

It’s a story about the transformation of the society that happened in Finland during the 19th century. The brothers represent the old, rural world. Simpler world. That doesn’t mean the brothers are simple or that the book is. Each brother views the world in their unique way and watching it through their eyes offers a lot to a modern reader. Especially their views about nature and living in harmony with it would be understandable today too.

We had to pick a favourite brother and write a report on him. Mine was Lauri, a unique thinker and an artistic soul. He must have felt like a kindred spirit, an introvert like me. Unfortunately, I can’t remember what I wrote. I got a good grade, though, and we all know that’s what counts. Right?

I haven’t picked the book since, but I’ve seen some productions on TV and read a children’s picture book version of it quite a few times. None of these diminish the value of the original. They add to it. It is, quite simply, a well-loved piece of our literature and will mostly likely remain so too.

Seven Brothers is available in English, but I haven’t seen the translation and can’t tell if it’s any good. However, I found this video of some summer theatre production of the play based on the book. It’s in Finnish, but for some reason it manages to convey a lot about the spirit of the book, the wildness of the brothers especially. The scenes aren’t in any particular order, they’re just glimpses into the play.

Treasure hunting

The annual book fair is in town this weekend, a huge event I try to visit every year. Bookstores, various culture organisations, and many authors gather there in a wonderful chaos. In addition to new books, the fair always has one large hall that is dedicated to second hand books. Probably every single second hand book shop in the country brings their inventory there. It feels like that anyway.

Every year, I start from the used books’ hall. The books there are always more interesting than in the other halls where the chain bookstores bring the latest bestsellers – all of them the same ones. I find the atmosphere in that hall more suitable to my temperament too. But it’s an exhausting and overwhelming task to go through the thousands of books, hoping to find one or two that I like, even if I skip the wares of vendors who specialise in books that I’m not interested in. After a while, I’m unable to see the individual books, they just become a colourful blur of spines. 

So I’ve come up with a system. Before I start, I decide on a book that I will hunt. Searching for a special book makes the experience more fun and the task easier, on top of which comes the joy of success, should I happen to find what I want. Also, it prevents me from buying too many books on a whim. An important factor too.

For many years, I had the same book that I looked for, but never found: What Katy did at school by Susan Coolidge (1873). It’s the second book in Coolidge’s Katy series about the Carr family and especially the eldest daughter Katy, five books in all.

Susan Coolidge: What Katy did at school

I loved the series when I was a child and read the books over and over again. I lived through the ups and downs of Katy’s life – her severe injury followed by a miraculous recovery, her time at an all girls’ school, her trip to Europe where she eventually found her happily ever after, and the lives of her sisters as settlers in the Midwest. The books were slightly preachy; I could see that even as a child, but I didn’t care. 

I was past the age of reading the series when I began to collect it. I found the first book in a second hand shop, a 1948 translated edition. The rest I bought as a facsimile of that edition some years later. But the second book in the series was sold out. 

Curiously, the book turned out to be difficult to find, providing me with the excitement of the hunt for years. I occasionally ran into other books in the series, but never that one. It always puzzled me, because I didn’t think it was such a rare book. There had even been that facsimile edition.

Last year, my long hunt came to an end. I finally found the book. It was more expensive than I thought it would be – in general, the second hand books have become pricier at the fair – but I had hunted it for so long that I absolutely had to buy it. And it was a 1948 edition instead of the reprint so I decided it was worth it.

My exiting hunt was over. However, it means that for the first time in years, I don’t have a special book to look for when I go to the fair. I’ve decided to take it as a challenge. It might be fun too. I will keep my eyes open for something new, for different treasures. I’m sure I’ll find a nice book or two to rehome. Who knows, maybe I’ll find a beginning of a new collection there too, that will keep the hunt going for years.