My
Rating: 1.0 / 5.0
Amazon
Rating: 3.90 / 5.00
Goodreads
Rating: 3.98 / 5.00
Diana Bishop comes from a long line of witches that
stretches back to Salem and beyond. However, she refuses to follow her
ancestors, preferring to be a scholar instead, becoming an expert on the
history of Alchemy. While studying at the Bodleian Library in Oxford she
suddenly discovers an ancient alchemical manuscript with magical overtones.
After looking through it and being somewhat intrigued, she decides to return it
to the collection and continue with her studies but the librarian has never
heard of the text and has no idea how it came to be on the shelf. When she
returns to look for it, the book is missing.
Matthew Clairmont is a vampire geneticist who is
drawn to the magical burst that accompanies Diana opening the strange book,
along with many other magically sensitive individuals. It seems it has been
lost for centuries and is coveted by many within the supernatural community and
they begin to circle Diana and haunt her steps. Matthew becomes fascinated by
Diana and a budding romance ensues.
The premise for this book sounds intriguing,
especially as I have studied the history of science,
so I was expecting a historical mystery wrapped up with a little paranormal
romance. I look at the blurb now and the most ominous aspect of it is the
mention of it being “as contemporary and sensual as
the Twilight series-with an extra serving of historical realism.”
If I had seen that remark before opening the book I might have been spared the
frustration of attempting to read it, because a comparison to Twilight is never
going to persuade me that I am about to immerse myself in a great literary
masterpiece.
So what exactly did I not like about this book?
Well, let us start with the author’s obsessive compulsion to describe, in
mind-blowingly tedious detail, every possible aspect of the Bodleian Library.
Yes, Ms Harkness, I get it: you have been there and you really, really, REALLY
loved it, but I do not need to know what color the carpet is in every room, nor
how the seats are arranged, nor what is outside which windows, etc, etc, in
order to follow the story. In fact, it was highly distracting and after the
fourth or fifth mass of unnecessary detail it was getting rather frustrating.
It slowed up the story, filled my mind with unimportant clutter and left me
wondering why your editor did not simply draw big red crosses through whole
pages of it. If I want to know more about the library I can use the Internet
and read the webpage.
As a Brit, I often find that foreign authors try
very hard to capture the essence of the United Kingdom and its culture and some
come close enough that I can read their work without the mistakes poking me in
the eye every five minutes. Ms Harkness did a reasonable job of many aspects of
UK culture, although she did make a somewhat unforgivable mistake regarding the
iconic Sir David Attenborough that I found annoying. She presents the great
naturalist, communicator and film-maker as a pioneering research scientist: a
claim that I am quite sure Sir David would find highly flattering but totally
laughable. I fear that I really do need to start up that web-based business
offering myself as an expert in ‘How to make your portrayal of the UK not want
to make Brits bang their heads on a wall’.
Next, as Ms Harkness is a professional historian of
science, I was shocked at her obvious misunderstanding of many aspects of
science and the way in which it progresses. She confused various
specializations that are totally different and completely separate, which is
unforgivable because their definitions can be found using Google. She also has
a deep misunderstanding of the personalities of most scientists. Her vampires
are near immortal and given to scientific pursuits, but keep changing their
names to fool the human scholars. OK, so we will put aside the fact that ego is
a huge part of scientific research, especially when it comes to publication and
taking the credit for discoveries, but the idea that a researcher would simply
skip from one line of research to another without wanting to pursue his chosen
obsession to the very end of eternity is absurd. I speak as a person who is
married to a research scientist and who knows plenty of others. I will not
dissect her claims for Matthew’s solitary unraveling of wolf genetics because I
think I have made my point.
So, you are not British or a scientist and,
therefore, these problems do not have an impact upon you. Are there any other
problems with this book?
Unfortunately, yes, there are. Let us examine
Diana, the witch who has spent her entire life denying her ancestry and
refusing to practice her skills. Would you be surprised if I told you that she
is actually one of the most powerful witches in the world? No? I have to admit
that I was not surprised either, because that little nugget fits in with the
overall stereotype that makes up our heroine. She is an orphan, a loner, she
rejects her past, she is spunky, super intelligent and can look after herself, she is also
amazingly powerful. This was a depressingly obvious decision, and led to other
predictable phenomena. As a witch that has sworn off using any magic, for any
reason, ever . . . she changes her mind when a book she wants is on a top shelf
. . . I kid you not: that is the massively significant moment at which she
chooses to try using her magical abilities rather than getting a step or even
dragging her chair over to the shelf. Of course, she gently pulls the correct
book from the shelf and floats it down to her hand with amazing control, even
though she has never practiced using her telekinesis before. Needless to say,
this had my eyes rolling quite a bit.
However, the point at which I stopped reading came
when we discovered that she glows in the dark / when she is asleep. There is
only so much of ‘special snowflake’ syndrome that I can take in my Mary Sue
before I want to vomit, and this shot past that boundary and left it in the
distance. But wait, what of our gorgeous hero, Matthew the Vampire? Well, we
discover that Diana glows because he breaks into her bedroom and hovers over
her watching her sleep. I am aware that this is something that Edward does in
Twilight, and that is creepy enough even though he looks like a teenager, but
Matthew is hundreds of years old. This is creepy, stalker behavior and it gave me
no hope that he will not indulge in other controlling behavior later in the
story. I predicted that he would abduct her and/or make her his sex slave in no
time at all, but felt no desire to find out.
As well as these major problems, I would also add
that this huge tome could have used a thorough editing. The Bodleian was not
the only subject of pages of unnecessary detail and I calculate that almost one
fifth of the book could have been deleted to improve the readability and plot
flow. I realize that many people liked this book an awful lot: I just cannot work out why.
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