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josie9's review against another edition
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.5
only read to listen to katie mcgrath’s voice for 11 hours and 57 minutes
Content Warnings
Graphic: Cancer, Death, Infertility, Infidelity, Miscarriage, Sexism, Medical content, Grief, and Pregnancy
Moderate: Child abuse, Child death, Chronic illness, Death, Emotional abuse, Homophobia, Infertility, Infidelity, Mental illness, Miscarriage, Misogyny, Sexism, Sexual content, Terminal illness, Toxic relationship, Grief, Death of parent, Pregnancy, Lesbophobia, Abandonment, Alcohol, Colonisation, Injury/Injury detail, and Classism
Minor: Excrement
rlaurene's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
Islands of Mercy is set in the British Empire of the Victorian era, following a cast of characters in England and Borneo.
The concept behind the construction of this book is interesting. By writing in a faux-Victorian style, Tremain can almost retrospectively insert taboo topics (LGBTQ+ issues, miscarriage, relationships outside of marriage, the subjects of imperial rule) into Victorian discourse. But it doesn't quite come off.
Part of the issue, I think, is that Tremain never really nails the style. She seems to write long sentences with little regard of what they actually say. None of her descriptions could be compared to Dickens's opening of Bleak House, for instance. They sometimes get time and places muddled for the reader. And there are some passages that so very nearly come off musical, until you stumble on an odd word choice. One example:
'And it felt to the two lovers that their intimate world had taken on an oily, liquified form in which sorrow and desire gleamed and trembled with rainbow colours, like unction falling upon water.'
I understand what she's trying to say here, but 'unction' is a harsh-sounding word in this slick, intimate image. Surely 'blessing' would slot in well? At other points, it reads as though the thesaurus has been cracked open to choose a more complex word where it wasn't exactly necessary.
Tremain also misses something with her themes. The scenes in Borneo come too close to depicting the British Empire as a benign (if lethargic) rule, with the villains being disease and, briefly, Australian miners for some reason. There's also little sense of the problematic relationship between England and Ireland. Clorinda, the Irish character, faces no discrimination, and rural Ireland is depicted as the usual idyll. There may also be an appropriation of the Jewish figure of the golem, but I'm not familiar enough with the folklore and history behind the golem to say this for certain.
The characters are rather hit and miss. Edmund is quite delightful, and it is a shame there are not more chapters from his perspective. Jane reads too much like a modern woman and Juliette borders on annoying, and their relationship doesn't really have the stakes it should. Valentine, the doctor who proposes to Jane at the very beginning of the book, suffers such a character assassination, with no arc or preamble, it is disconcerting for the reader. The best characters are the novel's maternal figures: Emmeline, Jane's painter aunt (who is the right touch of modern for the Victorian era; Clorinda; Taminah, the mother of Leon.
Islands of Mercy is worth the read, particularly if you're looking for LGBTQ+ representation in historical fiction. But I don't think it quite makes all the shots it is aiming for.
The concept behind the construction of this book is interesting. By writing in a faux-Victorian style, Tremain can almost retrospectively insert taboo topics (LGBTQ+ issues, miscarriage, relationships outside of marriage, the subjects of imperial rule) into Victorian discourse. But it doesn't quite come off.
Part of the issue, I think, is that Tremain never really nails the style. She seems to write long sentences with little regard of what they actually say. None of her descriptions could be compared to Dickens's opening of Bleak House, for instance. They sometimes get time and places muddled for the reader. And there are some passages that so very nearly come off musical, until you stumble on an odd word choice. One example:
'And it felt to the two lovers that their intimate world had taken on an oily, liquified form in which sorrow and desire gleamed and trembled with rainbow colours, like unction falling upon water.'
I understand what she's trying to say here, but 'unction' is a harsh-sounding word in this slick, intimate image. Surely 'blessing' would slot in well? At other points, it reads as though the thesaurus has been cracked open to choose a more complex word where it wasn't exactly necessary.
Tremain also misses something with her themes. The scenes in Borneo come too close to depicting the British Empire as a benign (if lethargic) rule, with the villains being disease and, briefly, Australian miners for some reason. There's also little sense of the problematic relationship between England and Ireland. Clorinda, the Irish character, faces no discrimination, and rural Ireland is depicted as the usual idyll. There may also be an appropriation of the Jewish figure of the golem, but I'm not familiar enough with the folklore and history behind the golem to say this for certain.
The characters are rather hit and miss. Edmund is quite delightful, and it is a shame there are not more chapters from his perspective. Jane reads too much like a modern woman and Juliette borders on annoying, and their relationship doesn't really have the stakes it should. Valentine, the doctor who proposes to Jane at the very beginning of the book, suffers such a character assassination, with no arc or preamble, it is disconcerting for the reader. The best characters are the novel's maternal figures: Emmeline, Jane's painter aunt (who is the right touch of modern for the Victorian era; Clorinda; Taminah, the mother of Leon.
Islands of Mercy is worth the read, particularly if you're looking for LGBTQ+ representation in historical fiction. But I don't think it quite makes all the shots it is aiming for.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Miscarriage
Moderate: Physical abuse and Sexual content