Review: Badlands by Seleste deLaney

2 stars

Seleste deLaney's Badlands is a Steampunk romance, set after an alternative American Civil War that saw the US divided up into the Union, the Confederates and the Badlands. The Badlands is a frontier, where the Union expel their criminals to be rounded up and imprisoned by the Amazonian women who live there. Ever is one of those women, a military commander for Queen Lavinia. When the queen is killed in a brutal attack, Ever escapes and embarks on a mission to bring home the new Queen from her university in the Union before there's a massive power vacuum and whatever mysterious enemy they're fighting manages to wipe the Badlands off the face of the earth. Spencer Pierce, captain of the airship that picks up Ever after she flees her people's settlement, reluctantly assists her in her mission, but he's got problems of his own. The attack on the Badlands has meant he was unable to complete the last cargo run of his indenture, leaving him under the thumb of a powerful Union Senator.

Badlands suffered from all-round poor characterisation. For a start, Ever was an insufferable and nonsensical heroine. There was a massive disparity between her rhetoric and her actions. She was intolerant and judgemental and stubborn beyond belief, and didn't seem to have the good sense God gave a flea. She's meant to be a warrior, but you'd never know it the way the the hero has to coddle her, even though Ever decided Spencer is weak and idiotic when they first meet. (Spoiler alert from here on in). Next time we turn around Ever's got a serious case of insta-love. Which, I'd just like to add, she tries to banish by sleeping with another crew member. Spencer's insta-lust was a bit more understandable, since Ever has some kind of aversion to clothing herself appropriately, but why he puts his crew in danger for her I'm not quite sure.

In fact, the motivations of all the characters were very patchy. The villain of the piece was inexplicably evil, and I can't help but think that there would have been much easier ways achieve his aims. The ship's doctor, Henrietta, wants to marry Spencer, although once again I'll be damned if I can work out why she's set her heart on that. I mean, the guy was the most unobjectionable bit of the whole book, but he doesn't exactly have a lot in the way of prospects and Henrietta didn't actually seem to be in love with him.

It's getting 2 stars, and that's mainly for world-building; I liked the broad strokes of the setting, even if I found some of the smaller details a little incongruous. 

Review: Wild Burn by Edie Harris (Plus Movie Recommendation)

4.5 stars

The set-up of Edie Harris' Western romance Wild Burn reads like someone dared Harris to come up with the most unfortunate first meeting between hero and heroine. Or maybe she found one of those weird creative writing prompts that pop up on Pintrest, accompanied by a stock image that should be on a motivational poster. Yes, I can see it now: a man (and his Stetson) are silhouetted against a mountainous ridge, and over the background of evening sky is white writing in an ill-chosen font:

Write a scenario in which the hero shoots the heroine when they first meet. Then make them fall in love. Oh, and make the heroine an ex-Catholic nun and the hero an ex-Confederate soldier who now kills Native Americans for a living. But you have to make the reader like him, right? 

It sounds fantastical at best, but Harris makes it work. The characterisation is wonderful; Moira, the heroine, left the sisterhood after a terrible event made her question her faith. She's still reeling, trying to find her place and make sense of the world, and put to rest thoughts of anger and revenge. It was nice to see the hero support her in this quest; too often heroes place their heroines on a pedestal, unable to easily acknowledge that a heroine's troubles are as important as the ones they themselves are facing.

The hero, Delany, was facing challenges trying to maintain moral distinctions and a sense of his humanity in amoral surroundings. The plot aided the development of both characters, while also providing an interesting look at the issues of post-Civil War America, including Catholic intolerance, the aftermath of the Civil War and the treatment of Native Americans.

The relationship between Delaney and Moira was tantalising and played out beautifully, but if I have one gripe, it's their absorbtion when things were getting hot and heavy. I get it, they're massively physically attracted to each other, but that doesn't mean that you should have your characters forgetting the presence of others and making out in the middle of the main street. For me, this really didn't gel; you'd think that an ex-solider would have better awareness of his surroundings, and an ex-nun and unmarried schoolteacher in a patriarchal society would desire a higher level of circumspection.

Still, Wild Burn made me think that maybe I should give Western romances another try. They're one of the few sub-genres I've never really enjoyed, as I can never get over my disquiet at the American exceptionalism and race relations they contain. I only bought Wild Burn because it had such good reviews, and because I was craving some frontier vibes after watching a German-language Western recently at Sydney's Audi German Film Festival.

The Dark Valley (Das Finstere Tal) is set in a remote valley in the high reaches of Austria, but don't be turned off by the fact it's not actually set in the Wild West. It's got that classic Eastwood main character: the rough-around-the-edges good guy outsider, seeking revenge for those that done him wrong. It's suspenseful, with a excellent surprise twist during the final showdown that you don't expect, despite all the clues. The acting is wonderful, and so is the camerawork. I went because I had free tickets, with the expectation I wouldn't like it very much, but I loved it. I've popped a trailer with English subtitles below so you can get a feel for it. If you want to watch it, it's on American Netflix. Australians, you lose out (again).

Review: Indigo by Beverly Jenkins

4 stars 

Not being American, I've never known much about the Underground Railroad, which smuggled slaves from the South into the free states of the North and onto Canada in the 19th century.  As a child, I had a book entitled Life Stories of 100 Famous Women that had a chapter on Harriet Tubman, and I can sing that earworm of a song about Dinah blowing her horn as well as the next gal, but I've never had any grasp of the finer details.  But I didn't realise quite how much I didn't know until I read Indigo by Beverly Jenkins as the first diverse read of my #WNDBResolution.

Smuggled out of slavery as a child, Hester Wyatt now runs a 'station' in Whittaker, Michigan, where conductors and runaways using the Railroad can rest, eat and receive care before moving on.  When an infamous conductor, The Black Daniel, is brought badly beaten to her doorstep, she takes him in and nurses him back to health.  He's surly and forward, and she's half inclined to give up on him.  Meanwhile, Galen Vachon - as the Black Daniel is really called - is becoming increasingly fascinated by his earnest hostess as his wounds heal and his mood picks up.  But there's a price on his head, unscrupulous slave-catchers in the area, a traitor leaking details about the Road and, like a thundercloud hovering over everything, a war brewing over the South's use of slavery.

The plot was really well-developed, but I'll admit that it took me quite a while to embrace Jenkins' writing style.  In the first few chapters I found the writing abrupt and didactic, but somewhere along the way I ceased to notice it as much, probably around the same time that I became engaged in the story and its level of historical detail.

I found it darkly fascinating that, in the North where all African-Americans were free and slaves from the South were declared free on arrival, a law was passed whereby a judge was paid 10 dollars if the found in a slave-owner's favour, but only 5 dollars if he backed the African-American accused of being a runaway.  Though I knew that societal racism must have continued after the fall of slavery, I naively assumed that kind of institutionalised discrimination would have been largely confined to the South.  But I suppose - and this is a really stupid white girl realisation - that's the whole thing about being discriminated against; the system is stacked against you everywhere, not simply where it is most apparent.  Just because you don't live in Ferguson, where almost 90% of police violence is used against African-Americans, despite the fact they make up only 67% of the local population, doesn't mean you are not facing racial disadvantage and discrimination on a daily basis.

I did really enjoy Hester as a character.  She has the courage of her convictions, only consuming products made by free workers, helping others to freedom as she herself was helped and being a loyal friend and neighbour.  She doesn't pay any mind to those who say that, as a single woman, she should not be involved in the Road and refuses to give into some pretty malicious slut-shaming.  Galen, raised by his mother's prominent Louisianan Creole family, is also charming and - with one notable exception - respects Hester's equality and ability to make her own decisions.  As often occurs in romance novels set during adverse times, it was the minor characters who brought home the horror and difficulty of Black life in the mid-1800s, giving the story a realistic poignancy it would have lacked if it had had a comprehensive happily-ever-after.

Overall, I really enjoyed this book and I'm very glad to have had the chance to discover it.  Hopefully, the other 19 diverse novels I read this year will be just as enlightening.  Because, as Jenkins wrote in the Author's Note of Indigo, "knowledge is power, but shared knowledge empowers us all".