Inspired by the early life of Catherine I of Russia (not to be confused with the more famous Catherine II, or the Great) the novel’s early chapters tell the story of how in the late 17th Century, a lowly washerwoman called Marta from the Baltic States would find her way into the heart of Tsar Peter I and eventually become his wife.

Knowing a little of the history of the rule of the Romanovs in Russia, I was not expecting this to be an easy or lightweight read and some of the earlier chapters held promise, including this rather accurate paragraph on the Russian character:


“How strange the Russians were, forever caught between a zest for life and seeking penance of their sins; filled with deep religious belief, yet capable of heathen violence and full of disdain for common decency, swaying between hair-raising cruelty and deep, tearful regret that might haunt them for years. A Russian soul knew no calm, no balance and no peace, ever.”

But the promise soon deteriorated into an agonising, bodice-ripping, tortured and torturous gory shambles of a book. I stuck it out, admittedly scanning through much of its repetitive and gratuitously violent descriptions of rape, sadism and cruelty of an order that defies description.

Any admiration I might once have had for Tsar Peter, who pulled Russia out of the dark ages, and built the magnificent city of St Petersburg, was soon dampened by his war-mongering, his merciless and endless brutality, especially towards his son and heir, who was eventually executed (as was anyone associated with him) – but that’s if this book can be relied upon for a true reflection of history – and that’s where I have a big problem with historical fiction that is written purely for lurid sensationalism rather than any measured interpretation of what might really happened.

Marta/Catherine is the narrator, but there is little to recommend her – at least in this telling. She’s an ambivalent character, occasionally showing determination but much of the time she’s an acquiescent brood mare, bearing numerous children, most of whom died young. While it was a time when people didn’t invest too much in their offspring until they survived the dangerous early childhood years, more narrative is given to her sexual encounters (consenting and non-consenting) rather than to expressions of maternal grief.

The interminable wars that Peter waged between Sweden and the Ottomans are covered in passing, but there is little on his famous reforms that also included dragging Russia towards Western enlightenment and in establishing industries and the navy.
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Apart from a brief epilogue, there is nothing here either on the life and achievements of Catherine after the death of Peter. Even if she was no saint, she certainly deserves a better legacy than this disappointing novel.
 
One-and-a half Stars

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Booktopia

Anna May Wong (1905-1961) may not be a name that is familiar to the present generation, but she was once world-famous as the only “real” Chinese actress to star in major movies in Hollywood. She also appeared in movies and on the stage in England and Europe.

At a time when anti-miscegenation was enshrined in law in America, it was impossible for her to play any romantic roles with a white actor. She was inevitably cast as the duplicitous or tragic second “oriental” woman who is never destined to get her man and, more often than not, has to die at the end.

Born into a Chinese-American family, she was caught between two cultures. Her father was opposed to her career path and lifestyle, considering it disgraceful for any daughter of his to make her own way in life, that her first duty was to marry and become subservient to her husband. Thus, Anna’s determination to be a successful actress led to monumental clashes with her father.

But that was only part of her struggle. Hollywood producers had a blinkered, even ignorant, concept of China and its people. In conjunction with “blackface” in which white actors were made up with dark make-up to play African-Americans, or “redface” to play First Nations people, there was “yellowface” as well for Asian characters.

Perhaps one of the most famous films in which two white actors played Chinese characters in “yellowface” was the 1937 Oscar-winning “The Good Earth”. (European Luise Rainer won Best Actress in a role that really belonged to Anna May Wong.)

What’s more, some of the roles Anna appeared in caused offence and consternation in China where her reputation took a battering for clichéd depictions of Chinese culture and characters.

No matter what she did, Anna just couldn’t win. Her personal life was fraught with other problems, including alcoholism and doomed relationships. She found far greater acceptance in Europe but always yearned for her Californian home.

Anna was definitely a pioneer and born ahead of her time. In more recent years she has finally been recognised in the United States for her achievements.

This novel reads like a personal memoir and is most engaging. Her character is so well-drawn by Gail Tsukiyama that one can sympathise with Anna’s frustrations and disappointments, feel deeply her indignation and outrage at her treatment, as well as celebrate her successes.

​Highly recommended.

Four-and-a-half stars.

(With thanks to Net Galley for the ARC.)
 

 
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Booktopia

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I feel I reached my personal saturation point with World War II novels some time ago and yet they are still being published by the hundreds. Thus, I let this title languish on my TBR (to-be-read) pile for ages. While it is based in those war years (1939-1945) it is not about spies, code-breakers, the Blitz or battles, but rather about a modest ordinary family living on an English farm.

In June, 1939, Jack is on the run from his home on Tyneside and is wandering the back roads of Berkshire looking for somewhere to lie low and where he might be safe. He rescues a young woman, Gwen, when she is thrown from her horse and helps her home to the farm where she lives with her widowed father, Jim.

Grateful for his help, Jim offers Jack a temporary job. Jack is unsure, having only ever worked in a shipyard as a riveter, but unexpectedly finds satisfaction and peace in farm labour and the fresh country air. He also starts to fall in love with Gwen, but she has eyes for someone else and, almost against her wishes, Jack will come to play a vital role in her life although he knows she will never love him. As war looms, he decides it is best that he leaves to enlist and to put himself in the firing line in battle as the only way out for him and Gwen. However, Jack does return and has to face his greatest challenge of all.

The characters are likeable, with their own individual flaws. Jack, solid and dependable, yet also capable of rage. Gwen, whose youth and inexperience create traps for her. Jim, the strict, yet loving father. Muriel, the irritable but wise housekeeper. Nora, the flashy and flirty Land Army girl. Ted, the lonely neighbour who also carries a torch for Gwen. And members of the haughty entitled Allingham family who look down their noses at those who till the soil and grow their food.

The descriptions of rural life in meadows, fields and woods carry echoes of Thomas Hardy and everything from the simple routines of milking the cows to threshing the grain are crafted in such a way that they are an intrinsic part of the tale and never feel like padded research.

I read a great deal, but it’s been a long time since I’ve loved a book so much that I almost didn’t want it to end and wish I’d read it much earlier. With her tender and astute observations of human foibles, I very much look forward to other books by Anita Frank.

Five Stars

Dymocks

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