Gavril, a poor love-struck artist, is visited one night by a dream of a murdered man. He learns that he is the estranged son of a lord of a distant land, and that his father was the man murdered in his dreams. He has, however, inherited far more than a castle and an icy realm, for the secret to his family's long reign is a baleful spirit that offers unimaginable destructive powers, but at a ghastly price...

The problem with this book is the pace. There's so many events crammed in that everything is rushed, and we jump from place to place, milestone to milestone, viewpoint to viewpoint, without any thoughtful pause for significant events. Travel seemed entirely too quick -- taking a couple of days to get from a sunny, tropical climate to an icy taiga doesn't seem feasible in an age of horse-drawn carriages. Abilities that supposedly take years to learn are mastered overnight. Profound relationships are formed between people who exchange scarcely a few sentences. Any other author, with this much material, would have written 3 books instead of 1.

With so much happening, and with the viewpoint switching between at least half a dozen people, it was impossible to get attached to any of the (many) characters. They were all distinct, had clear motivations and salient characteristics, but I never felt like I actually got to know them, so I never cared about them. They needed more time to develop, to interact, to reveal themselves and stamp themselves as individuals, not custom-made cogs inserted into the plot machine.

Some characters were rather perplexing, like the Emperor and his daughter. The Emperor's desperate affection for his young ward seemed misplaced, at odds with the rest of his personality (it would have made more sense if it had been romantic or sexual, instead of paternal). And I can't make heads or tails out of Karila, his daughter, which I cannot discuss due to spoilers -- suffice to say, she is presented as an ordinary child but has puzzling, mysterious characteristics that I wish had been explained, or at least remarked upon. I suppose that has been left to the sequels.

Another objection I have is that dire consequences were held over character's heads but never actually brought down -- for example, staying out for hours in a freezing blizzard without appropriate clothing, and yet not getting frostbite.

Despite all this, I rate the book highly because it is so competently written. Aside from a few gaffes like "fruitily alcoholic", the author's prose was clear, brisk, and full of detail, if a bit stiff. I liked the unusual setting inspired by Russia and featuring 18th century technology, like gunpowder and alchemy. It's nice to see a fantasy that isn't stuck in the Dark Ages. I was pleased by the presence of ghosts, and intrigued by the role of the guslyars. The Drakhaoul himself is an interesting idea. Several of the plot twists surprised even me, something that does not happen often.

This book contains no references to sex, but it does contain violence, descriptions of charred corpses and such. While it would be scary for children, I doubt any parent could object to their teenagers reading it.

Daughter of the Forest is a re-telling of a Celtic myth in which 6 brothers are turned into swans by their evil step-mother. Their little sister must obey a vow of silence and weave 6 shirts out of prickly nettles and clothe them to return them to their original forms. The author, Marillier, sticks pretty close to this plot, and sets the story in ancient Ireland.

Although the story is about the brothers' curse, the book takes a while to get to it. Before the evil step-mother arrives, Sorcha (the little sister) nurses an unstable man tortured by her own people back to health. The uneasy relationship between Sorcha and the man, Simon, was compelling, and I wanted very much to see how it played out, but once the glacial pace finally picked up and the main plot began, Simon disappears. He reappears only at the end of the book, and ends up being a completely irrelevant character. I'm guessing the only reason he's in the book at all is to set up something in the sequels.

About halfway through the book, there is a brutal, sexually explicit scene. At this point, I stopped reading and skimmed the rest of the book because the scene put me off. I don't mind violence, usually, but this scene seemed gratuitous, inserted only to shock the reader and heap additional woe on a character who has already reached the angst limit.

It seems that I was right to stop, as from what I could tell the book turns into a run-of-the-mill romance, complete with a perfect man who is manly and sensitive and eager to rescue fair maidens from villainy. I myself don't like this kind of thing, and didn't like to see the book change from an adventure story into a Harlequin romance.

On the bright side, the characters of the brothers are interesting, each one distinct and well-drawn. The warm relationship between Sorcha and her brothers was great, and is a rare example, in my experience, of sibling camaraderie and friendship in fiction. Sorcha herself is a strong character, but perhaps comes off as being too strong, almost angelic -- she never seems to waver in her determination to save her brothers, not even after what she endures.

Although I didn't end up liking it, it is a pretty good book -- at least for the first half -- and most other reviews I've seen of it have been overwhelmingly positive. The quality of the writing itself wasn't bad, it was just that the author wrote about things I didn't want to read about. I may pick up the sequels, in the hopes of seeing more of the brother characters.

Suppose that, one morning, an old book mysteriously appears on your desk, and its only content is a picture of a sinister, twisting dragon with the word "Drakulya". Who left it there, and why? Who, or what, is Drakulya?

The Historian follows 3 intertwining plots -- a girl seeking her father, her father seeking his mentor, and his mentor seeking the origin of the mysterious book. The plots take place in different decades and different countries, but they all begin with the discovery of the book, and the girl, the father, and the mentor all end up searching for the same thing: Dracula. The protagonists are none of them warriors or heroes, just bookish researchers, solving mysteries and defending themselves with the only weapon they have, knowledge.

I've never had any particular interest in Eastern Europe, but Kostova's evocative descriptions of Istanbul and Budapest made me fall in love with the locales and long to see them for myself. This is, I think, the strongest aspect of the book. Each setting is painted for you with piquant, well-chosen details of architecture, food, people, and historical background. The background, especially, is fascinating, though some will get impatient with the history lessons and prefer the author to just get on with the story.

The story is, actually, quite slow in the beginning, but as it chugs along it gains speed, and the gradual revelations and lurking dread build up to some delicious, hair-pulling suspense. It hasn't much in the way of action, though there is some -- this being a book about researchers, most of the action takes place in hushed libraries and secluded monasteries, where the outcome rests not on a car chase or gun fight, but on the acquisition of obscure facts in tattered documents. The central premise, of a mysterious book appearing one day out of the blue, appealed to me strongly. I couldn't resist such a mystery, and neither could the protagonists, which is what leads them into danger. I liked watching the puzzle pieces fall into place, and I liked following characters who were not so very different from myself.

Unfortunately, the end of the book, beginning with the unveiling of the principal actor, was rather disappointing. The villain ceased to be menacing once he was revealed, and his characterization did not surprise or intrigue me, as it was something I had seen before. (I seem to be the only one who feels this way about him, though.) The story was wrapped up with some convoluted deus ex machina, and left threads dangling awkwardly, though I think the intent was to be ominous.

For all that the ending disappointed me, I loved the book and recommend it warmly to those of a bookish bent who love history and mystery. It does mention sex and contain disturbing descriptions of ancient atrocities (this is about a guy called Vlad the Impaler, after all), but the book is appropriate for teenagers on up.

Greenpearl, daughter of a Chinese general, is abducted and sold into slavery while still only a child. She never forgets the family she came from, however, and is determined to find her way back to her mother and rescue her from captivity in the Dragon Monarch's realm. Greenpearl travels across China, assuming many different names and roles, becoming a courtesan, a warrior, and a poet. Her progress is watched closely by various gods, who have taken a special interest in her plight and help or hinder her by turn.

Silk Road is about women, their relationships to each other and their roles in society. It's been called feminist, but that gives one the idea that the author, Larsen, is pushing an agenda. It is, merely, the story of a woman from a woman's perspective and, if anything, champions only the idea that women can and should be in charge of their destinies. I liked seeing the strong bonds between women in this book -- many female characters in fantasy are limited to romance with men and rivalry with other women, neglecting the supportive, loyal friendships that women can have with each other (and with men too).

The book is an experimental collage of different literary forms. Parts of the story are in first person, from Greenpearl's perspective as she recounts her adventures, but other parts are in third person, looking in on various other characters. Interspersed with these narratives are poems, historical texts, a storyteller's performance, even recipes -- the mishmash of elements is odd, and it slows down the narrative with apparently irrelevant detours. I like it for being so unusual and daring, but others may be frustrated or confused by it.

Larsen throws in just about any bit of Chinese culture and history that takes her fancy, mixing together Taoist, Confucian, and Buddhist traditions: Nu Wa, Guan-yin, the King of the Underworld, the Motherqueen, Empress Wu, Yang Kuei-fei, the monk traveling to India with 3 disciples, and dozens more. The book is so deeply immersed in all things Chinese that people completely unfamiliar with the culture will find lots of details passing right over their heads. You don't need to be an expert on China to enjoy the book -- after all, I'm not -- but it will entice you to learn more. Even the merest passing familiarity with China will add an additional level of pleasure in recognizing legendary names and places.

Although labeled as fantasy, Silk Road feels more like a folk tale, or magic realism, so people who don't normally read fantasy may like this anyway. Fans of fantasy will appreciate it as a welcome break from humdrum Tolkien ripoffs.

Note: This book is not appropriate for children, as it features sex, rape, and prostitution. Homosexuality is also present.