Robert J. Wiersema's latest novel, Bedtime Story, is a story within a story within a story. After novelist Christopher Knox begins reading a lost fantasy book by one of his favourite childhood authors to his eleven year old son David, the boy suffers a seizure and enters into a trance-like state. Like Wiersema's first release, Before I Wake, the author writes about the lives of an unresponsive child (his first protagonist is in a coma due to a hit-and-run accident) and the unknown world where lost souls dwell.

Christopher, despite opposition from his estranged wife, deduces it is the story of the book itself, To The Four Directions by Laurence Took, which has caused David's condition; Chris attempts to battle the magic embedded in the book. Bedtime Story intertwines Christopher's mission, the fantasy novel itself, and David's story while trapped in the novel, where he meets other lost readers. They layering of stories builds up into a climax worthy of classic fantasy and horror novels!

Despite its depressing and gloomy plot, I completely understand the accolades and award nominations (and wins!) for Emma Donoghue's latest novel, the thoroughly gripping Room.

This dark story, similar to real life ones heard recently in the news, is told from the perspective of six year old Jack, who lives in Room,and only in Room, with his mother. Occasionally, there are visited by Old Nick, who abducted Jack's mother several years ago. Other than that, Jack has not had contact with the outside world. Television shows him stories and the news, but he cannot fathom the reality behind them, that there is a huge world outside this eleven-by-eleven foot enclosure. His only friends are the inanimate items he sees on a daily basis; Plant, Wardrobe, Snake (made from empty eggshells)... While trying her best to survive in this stunted environment, and keep Jack as healthy as possible, his mother is also working on a plan of escape.

As well as a compelling read, Room is an eye-opener; Donoghue touches on so many simple things that we on the 'outside world' can take for granted. Jack has never seen the sun, felt the air, run in a straight line rather than the circles around Rug. His mother, limited in basic needs by Old Nick, must prioritise what foods and essentials she asks for, thus depriving Jack of toys, sufficient clothing, and, perhaps most shattering, only five books (shudder).

Room is a novel that not only thrills, it had an underlying message for me that, with love and strong emotional support, you can survive. Sure, Jack and his mother did not enter this situation willingly, but it speaks that material things, to achieve bigger and better, means nothing without someone who can get you through the worst. Throughout the novel, Jack, as narrator, provided an innocent perspective, one without hate, or envy, or regret, which gives a hopeful twist to this terrible tale.

Since I first saw a reproduction of Dante Gabriel Rossetti's Annunciation in my teens, I was besotted with the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. So, when the DVD Desperate Romantics, a BBC production of the PBR's lives and loves, made its way into our collection, I was intrigued.

I admit, I was hesitant once starting it. This was not what I expected. This was no documentary of intellectual, talented gentlemen. Although set in mid-19th century England, Desperate Romanticshas a very modern feeling about it, from the artists walking abreast down the street, almost strutting in their high-fashioned, Bohemian influenced wardrobe, the music-video inspired camera angles, to the 20th century influence in the soundtrack, this is an historical tale told with a contemporary twist.

The story centres around the three founders of the PBR, Rossetti, William Holman Hunt, and John Everett Millais, the youngest painter ever accepted by The Royal Academy. "The Boys," as they are often called in this production, are three very disparate personalities: Millais, the prodigy, is timid, proper, somewhat frightened of authority, but the most virtuous. Hunt is intense, earnest, and, frankly, annoying. And Rossetti is passionate, flirtatious, immoral, at first charming, but later, also annoying. And infuriating. Not that this is bad; it makes great viewing.

The story opens with Fred Walters, a fictional character who is a conglomeration of several PBR friends and associates, running madly to find The Boys after he has laid eyes on the exquisite Elizabeth Siddal, a hat-shop girl who fits the criteria of what the PBR is looking for in a model. Lizzie is wanted by all three artists (in multiple ways Rossetti), but it is while she is sitting (or soaking) for Millais as Ophelia, she is taken with an illness and nearly dies. Hunt finds a new model in the "grubby" Annie Miller, here portrayed as a prostitute. Annie is a character who, despite her low-bred birth and upbringing, is smart, cunning, honest in a way Hunt cannot be, and utterly charming and delightful. Millais, meanwhile, is commissioned by the highly influential art critic John Ruskin to paint his wife, Effie. The sordid (or not so sordid) details of their five year marriage come to light, in which Millais finds himself entwined, so to speak.

One of the reasons I love the works of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood is the purity of the subjects, true love, sacrifice, spirituality; you wouldn't think these were subjects that came easily to this lot. Hunt and especially Rossetti are portrayed as lustful, raunchy, and appalling in their behaviours with women, but then would be tender, poetic and seemingly genuine in their feelings for the women they scorned. This dichotomy of spirit, portrayed by wonderful young actors, makes for a wonderful, escapist six hours.

Bloody entertaining

I always find it makes a book more interesting to read it at the same time of year that the story is set. So, when British author S.J. Bolton's latest thriller, Blood Harvest, came into our collection, it struck me that it takes place in a small English town in autumn, particularly around Halloween, and I grabbed it.

Blood Harvest is set in Heptonclough, a farming community which continues to hold onto its ancient and medieval traditions, specifically the local fall animal slaughter. This is when Harry Laycock, the new vicar, arrives and opens the old church, closed for almost ten years. Harry hears strange noises coming from the church, and witnesses some terrifying occurrences. Concurrently, the Fletcher family, also new to the area, has moved into their recently built house on the border of the graveyard. The three children, ten year old Tom, five year old Joe and toddler Millie are all aware of an unusual figure who moves stealthily through the graveyard, a figure with a penchant for imitating others' voices and giving Tom the willies by constantly watching him. Can this mysterious figure somehow be involved with the rash of deaths and disappearances of young girls in the last ten years? Are the disappearances one of the ongoing rituals of the community? And how does the abduction of one of the Fletcher children tie in with what's happening?

This is a spine-tingling, suspenseful novel that gripped me with its assortment of both intelligent and odd characters, chilling settings, and terrifying moments. It's a book I recommend you read with the blinds closed.

A worthy witchy read

Alys is a young woman in 16th century England who is at the centre of Philippa Gregory's The Wise Woman. The story opens with Alys awakening in the abbey where she has been living in comfort since her childhood. When the abbey becomes the nocturnal target of arson by supporters of Henry VIII, Alys flees back to Morach, the wise woman who helped raise her. Because of her training with Morach, Alys is called to the castle of the elderly Lord Hugh, who has been ill and presumed dying by his physicians. When Alys heals him, he insists she stay as one of the ladies to his daughter-in-law, Catherine. While in residence, Alys begins an affair with Catherine's husband, the young Hugh, which starts a tale of obsession, magic, and betrayal.

Actually, lots of betrayal. Alys is a master at it. She is quick to alter her allegiances if it means comfort, warmth, food and attention. She first betrays Morach, who gave her a home. Okay, a hovel, but she was fed by Morach, and taught herb-lore and midwifery, which helped Alys get to Lord Hugh. She quickly left Morach for the abbey, and Mother Hildebrande, for whom Alys appeared to have a deep and genuine love, but who she left to burn in her bed in order to quicken her own escape. She then betrays Morach again when she lets her take the blame for certain events that happen to Lady Catherine, who, after years of barrenness, finally appears pregnant, with Alys's help. She waffles with her affection for the young Hugh, sometimes believing herself in love with him, sometimes that she is using him for her own advancements. And when she has a chance to redeem herself regarding her faith and her abbey, she turns away from that too.

Alys is one of the most conniving, hideous and morally deprived characters I have ever come across in literature. She definitely earns the book's title, as her wisdom comes in two forms: herb-wisdom and the knowledge to think quickly on her feet to save her own skin. There were times I had pity for her; I'm not sure I wouldn't try to do the same things (well, not all of the same things) if I were filthy and cold and had had a taste of the good life. But deep down, I was revolted by Alys and her actions. Does this make for a bad book? No. And, when she has a chance to clean her conscience, I was interested in how Gregory would end the book. Was it an ending I found satisfying? I know my opinion, but try it out for yourself.

I often re-read my old favourite books, but it's never happened that I was ready to re-read a book I had just finished, until I read Kate Morton's The Forgotten Garden. The book is an intriguing and fascinating interweaving of several voices, several experiences, and several generations.

It opens with Nell, a four year old girl left on a boat bound for Australia by a beautiful young woman she know only as "The Authoress." Nell is told to hide and not come out until The Authoress returns for her. After several hours, the ship sets sail and Nell is still alone. Adopted by an at the time childless couple, Nell is told at her twenty first birthday party that she is not who she thinks she is. It is a statement that dramatically alters her personality and her life.

Seventy years later, Nell's granddaughter, Cassandra, takes up the search for Nell's biological family. Using her grandmother's diaries, and an old illustrated book of fairy tales by the mysterious Eliza Makepeace, Cassandra travels to England and the cottage she has inherited from Nell.

Interspersed between Nell's and Cassandra's stories are that of Eliza, her meager childhood which served for the basis of her vivid imagination, and subsequent move to an estate by the ocean. There, she is subject to her unloving and judgmental aunt, her unusual and disturbing uncle, and her frail cousin Rose. Despite her strict new upbringing, Eliza is too much of a free spirit to be hampered by her new living arrangement.

The storyline of The Forgotten Garden is itself like a fairytale, and its characters can follow the traditional 'good versus evil,' 'beauty versus ugliness' plots, but Morton offers enough insight their lives to keep them from becoming caricatures. And yes, sometimes I found the coincidences of chance meetings between characters a little too convenient, but because of the book's fae elements, they didn't bother me; I just accepted that unseen beings hiding in the forgotten garden were at play.

A group of friends are gathered for a relaxing afternoon barbeque at the suburban home of Hektor and Aisha. At some point, one of the guests slaps the young child of another couple. The party quickly ends, but the repercussions of that action continue into the near future in the aptly named The Slap by Australian author Christos Tsiolkas. Although the party is attended by an extensive group of people (almost too extensive to introduce in the opening pages), Tsiolkas narrows the personal stories to eight characters, some directly involved in the incident, and some only secondarily affected.

I found The Slap to be a gripping, compelling book, although I can't say I like the writer's crudeness (some parts I found uncomfortably so, particularly when he was speaking for the female characters). I also found the characters' personal morals almost non-existent; while many wear the sheen of being good, going beneath the surface reveals that they are far from it. I think I would have liked the book better if the characters' storylines had been intertwined rather than told in blocks of chapters.

What I did like was the result in their personal lives of this one quick act: everyone has an opinion about it. Some couples are able to support each other, some are violently opposed in opinion. Some are able to forgive and move on; others are mired in bitterness and revenge. Some agree that the child required discipline which his parents were not providing; others feel that an adult hitting a child is unjustified in all circumstances.

It was also interesting to find where my sympathies were directed in regards to the incident. In that respect, the book was an eye-opener. In other respects, it's a good, quick read with a meatier topic than my usual summer choices.