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PATRICK

SON OF IRELAND

A straightforward Celtic paperback yarn, but this one is blessedly short on the talking trees, magic swords, and warrior...

A fictionalized biography of St. Patrick, circa a.d. 400, concentrating on the “lost years” of the famous Irish patriarch.

The patron saint of Ireland was actually Welsh—real name, Succat of Morgannwg. The son of a noble landowning family loyal to the Romans, Patrick was raised a Christian and expected to succeed his father as lord of the manor. But Britain was a far-flung outpost of Rome, in constant danger of invasion by barbarian tribes, and it took a cohort of Irish raiders only one night to lay waste to his family’s estate and carry Patrick off to Ireland as a slave. There, in a land even wilder and more barbaric than Britain, Patrick herded sheep for seven years before he was able to escape and make his way home—leaving his wife, Sionan, behind. Reunited in Britain with his childhood friend Julian, now a priest, Patrick and Julian came to live in the home of Bishop Cornelius, serving the bishop as companion, guide, and translator. In Ireland, Patrick had studied the Druid religion and had even considered becoming a Druid bard, so he was able to explain Druid theology to the Christian missionaries who had been working with little success to convert the island. When he was captured by the Irish and lost his family and fortune, Patrick also lost his faith in the Christian God who had proven unable to save him, but Julian and Cornelius slowly work him back into the fold. Eventually, Patrick is willing not merely to forgive his Irish captors, but to work on their behalf by returning to them as a missionary—and the rest is history.

A straightforward Celtic paperback yarn, but this one is blessedly short on the talking trees, magic swords, and warrior maidens that clutter up so many from Lawhead (Mystic Rose, 2001, etc.). Still, you’ll still need to be a serious Celt-ophile to get through it.

Pub Date: Feb. 25, 2003

ISBN: 0-06-001281-1

Page Count: 464

Publisher: Morrow/HarperCollins

Review Posted Online: June 24, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2003

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THE NIGHTINGALE

Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.

Hannah’s new novel is an homage to the extraordinary courage and endurance of Frenchwomen during World War II.

In 1995, an elderly unnamed widow is moving into an Oregon nursing home on the urging of her controlling son, Julien, a surgeon. This trajectory is interrupted when she receives an invitation to return to France to attend a ceremony honoring passeurs: people who aided the escape of others during the war. Cut to spring, 1940: Viann has said goodbye to husband Antoine, who's off to hold the Maginot line against invading Germans. She returns to tending her small farm, Le Jardin, in the Loire Valley, teaching at the local school and coping with daughter Sophie’s adolescent rebellion. Soon, that world is upended: The Germans march into Paris and refugees flee south, overrunning Viann’s land. Her long-estranged younger sister, Isabelle, who has been kicked out of multiple convent schools, is sent to Le Jardin by Julien, their father in Paris, a drunken, decidedly unpaternal Great War veteran. As the depredations increase in the occupied zone—food rationing, systematic looting, and the billeting of a German officer, Capt. Beck, at Le Jardin—Isabelle’s outspokenness is a liability. She joins the Resistance, volunteering for dangerous duty: shepherding downed Allied airmen across the Pyrenees to Spain. Code-named the Nightingale, Isabelle will rescue many before she's captured. Meanwhile, Viann’s journey from passive to active resistance is less dramatic but no less wrenching. Hannah vividly demonstrates how the Nazis, through starvation, intimidation and barbarity both casual and calculated, demoralized the French, engineering a community collapse that enabled the deportations and deaths of more than 70,000 Jews. Hannah’s proven storytelling skills are ideally suited to depicting such cataclysmic events, but her tendency to sentimentalize undermines the gravitas of this tale.

Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.

Pub Date: Feb. 3, 2015

ISBN: 978-0-312-57722-3

Page Count: 448

Publisher: St. Martin's

Review Posted Online: Nov. 19, 2014

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2014

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CIRCE

Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.

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A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.

“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.

Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.

Pub Date: April 10, 2018

ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7

Page Count: 400

Publisher: Little, Brown

Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018

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