Alys Clare
Author of Fortune like the Moon
About the Author
Series
Works by Alys Clare
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Legal name
- Harris, Elizabeth
- Other names
- Клер, Элис
- Birthdate
- 1944
- Gender
- female
- Education
- University of Kent (archaeology)
- Occupations
- novelist
author
writer - Short biography
- Alys Clare is the pseudonym of a novelist with some 20 published works to her name. Brought up in the countryside close to where the Hawkenlye Novels are set, she went to school in Tonbridge and later studied archaeology at the University of Kent. She lives for part of the year in Brittany, in a remote cottage deep in an ancient landscape where many past inhabitants have left their mark; on her doorstep are relics that date from the stone circles and dolmens of the Neolithic to the commanderies, chapels and ancient tracks of those infamous warrior monks, the Knights Templar. In England, Alys's study overlooks a stretch of parkland which includes a valley with a little spring. The waters of this spring are similar in colour and taste to Tunbridge Wells's famous Chalybeat Spring, and it was this that prompted Alys's setting of her fictional Hawkenlye Abbey in the very spot where her own house now stands.
- Nationality
- UK
- Places of residence
- Kent, England, UK
Brittany, France - Associated Place (for map)
- UK
Members
Reviews
A Rustle of Silk: A new forensic mystery series set in Stuart England (A Gabriel Taverner Mystery) by Alys Clare
For some reason, I've found that often when a novel is set in the 1600's the characters bear about the same resemblance to lifelike human beings as characters in an unenthusiastic high school play. By the time the author has stamped them with the mold of "Elizabethan Character" – thee and ye and dost and old by forty and doublets and stomachers – most of the personality has been stamped out, and it becomes rather hard going to get through the book.
Alys Clare overcame that obstacle show more beautifully. First person narrator Gabriel Taverner is a wonderful character, a life–long ship's surgeon who would still be mending sailors if not for the accident that destroyed his equilibrium. He's full of life, and feels contemporary. "Very slowly and quietly, I bent forward and banged my head several times on the gleaming surface of my oak table." I have my doubts about his abilities and commitment as a physician; he has picked up a great deal of unorthodox knowledge from the natives of a great many far-flung places, some of which runs counter to the current trends. Still, he seems to keep picking up books to hone his knowledge of "civilized" medicine, and keeps getting distracted – and when he needs to hie him off to investigate this or that or the other, he never seems to have any concern about his patients' care during his absence.
One thing that's rather wonderful about him is a lovely obtuseness. He is the first-person narrator of the story, and his realizations and brainstorms are realistically handled in such a way to clue the reader in. He's a very good character; I hope he has better surroundings in another book.
Something I kept wondering about, which I know very little more about than that it existed, is the code of sumptuary laws. I first discovered them when I was getting into Renaissance Faires, when it surprised me that if I wanted to be historically accurate I had to decide where in society my persona fell and dress accordingly, avoiding certain fabrics and certain colors. (From 1562: No Englishman other than the son and heir apparent of a knight, or he that hath yearly revenues of £20 or is worth in goods £200, shall wear silk in or upon his hat, cap, night cap, girdles, scabbard, hose, shoes, or spur-leathers, upon forfeiture of £10 for every day, and imprisonment by three months.) Yet Gabriel's sister wears the finest silk day in and day out.
There were a handful of off words sprinkled throughout – I don't, for example, think that someone would refer to a man as being "broke", meaning penniless. (Then again, maybe they would – the adjective has a surprisingly long history. I wouldn't have thought it, and I think I'd avoid it because it doesn't sound right.) "Frenchie"; "get over it" – these were the ones I made note of. Borderline – and as such, enough to take me out of the story just a bit.
There were moments when the author revealed a bit or a piece which seemed like they ought to have been mentioned earlier. It was sort of the opposite of Chekhov's gun, with a shot going off suddenly leaving me wondering how. The origin of the murder weapon, for example – which I won't spoil here – seemed frankly kind of stupid and, till then, not even hinted at, not something the reader could remotely guess at.
It was a quick and easy and enjoyable read, but somewhat weak in areas. I enjoyed the writer's writing, but wish it had been more even and cohesive. There were excellent elements, but they were like beads on a long string, with thin bits in between. I'd like to try more of the series, in hopes of a stronger plot.
The usual disclaimer: I received this book via Netgalley for review. show less
Alys Clare overcame that obstacle show more beautifully. First person narrator Gabriel Taverner is a wonderful character, a life–long ship's surgeon who would still be mending sailors if not for the accident that destroyed his equilibrium. He's full of life, and feels contemporary. "Very slowly and quietly, I bent forward and banged my head several times on the gleaming surface of my oak table." I have my doubts about his abilities and commitment as a physician; he has picked up a great deal of unorthodox knowledge from the natives of a great many far-flung places, some of which runs counter to the current trends. Still, he seems to keep picking up books to hone his knowledge of "civilized" medicine, and keeps getting distracted – and when he needs to hie him off to investigate this or that or the other, he never seems to have any concern about his patients' care during his absence.
One thing that's rather wonderful about him is a lovely obtuseness. He is the first-person narrator of the story, and his realizations and brainstorms are realistically handled in such a way to clue the reader in. He's a very good character; I hope he has better surroundings in another book.
Something I kept wondering about, which I know very little more about than that it existed, is the code of sumptuary laws. I first discovered them when I was getting into Renaissance Faires, when it surprised me that if I wanted to be historically accurate I had to decide where in society my persona fell and dress accordingly, avoiding certain fabrics and certain colors. (From 1562: No Englishman other than the son and heir apparent of a knight, or he that hath yearly revenues of £20 or is worth in goods £200, shall wear silk in or upon his hat, cap, night cap, girdles, scabbard, hose, shoes, or spur-leathers, upon forfeiture of £10 for every day, and imprisonment by three months.) Yet Gabriel's sister wears the finest silk day in and day out.
There were a handful of off words sprinkled throughout – I don't, for example, think that someone would refer to a man as being "broke", meaning penniless. (Then again, maybe they would – the adjective has a surprisingly long history. I wouldn't have thought it, and I think I'd avoid it because it doesn't sound right.) "Frenchie"; "get over it" – these were the ones I made note of. Borderline – and as such, enough to take me out of the story just a bit.
There were moments when the author revealed a bit or a piece which seemed like they ought to have been mentioned earlier. It was sort of the opposite of Chekhov's gun, with a shot going off suddenly leaving me wondering how. The origin of the murder weapon, for example – which I won't spoil here – seemed frankly kind of stupid and, till then, not even hinted at, not something the reader could remotely guess at.
It was a quick and easy and enjoyable read, but somewhat weak in areas. I enjoyed the writer's writing, but wish it had been more even and cohesive. There were excellent elements, but they were like beads on a long string, with thin bits in between. I'd like to try more of the series, in hopes of a stronger plot.
The usual disclaimer: I received this book via Netgalley for review. show less
Two worlds, two surprises, and murder!
Two cases taken up by the World’s End Bureau. Lily Raynor takes one—the missing Russian child—a refugee from Russia. Felix Wilbraham the other—looking for evidence that would show a condemned man hung for the murder of his fiancé, was innocent.
The contrast between the Victorian dockside, the pursuit of a child newly arrived from Russia, down dank and dangerous alleys and slipways, along the canal docksides is overpowering and grim. (Clare’s show more descriptions invoke the overlay of despair in these areas). This is where Lily’s investigations take her. By her side is another Russian immigrant and lost youngster—Alexai. At her side, when needed, is Tamáz Edey, master of the canal boat The Dawning of the Day. Tamáz has been a welcome presence in all of Lily’s cases. He understands danger and the supernatural. (He’d gifted Lily a protective amulet in their first encounter). For all its evidence of misery this is also a place where the inhabitants at moments stand together for their own. Evil tracks the child Yakov, relentless and dark. Once again a miasma of the supernatural passes across Lily’s life.
By contrast Felix is in a pastoral delight with blue skies and the rich smell of the earth, even as it is layered with its own sense of brokenness. Felix’s investigations have him making contact with an arm of his family he knows little about. The contrast is great but that will change.
How these two worlds will collide is what has me puzzled. Clare manages that in the most disarming way.
Lily and Felix’s strengths and little details of their lives are emerging. They are growing as characters. A pleasing aspect.
Another brilliant and palpable read from Clare that had me at various times puzzled, often breathless, and always wondering!
A Severn House ARC via NetGalley.
Many thanks to the author and publisher. show less
Two cases taken up by the World’s End Bureau. Lily Raynor takes one—the missing Russian child—a refugee from Russia. Felix Wilbraham the other—looking for evidence that would show a condemned man hung for the murder of his fiancé, was innocent.
The contrast between the Victorian dockside, the pursuit of a child newly arrived from Russia, down dank and dangerous alleys and slipways, along the canal docksides is overpowering and grim. (Clare’s show more descriptions invoke the overlay of despair in these areas). This is where Lily’s investigations take her. By her side is another Russian immigrant and lost youngster—Alexai. At her side, when needed, is Tamáz Edey, master of the canal boat The Dawning of the Day. Tamáz has been a welcome presence in all of Lily’s cases. He understands danger and the supernatural. (He’d gifted Lily a protective amulet in their first encounter). For all its evidence of misery this is also a place where the inhabitants at moments stand together for their own. Evil tracks the child Yakov, relentless and dark. Once again a miasma of the supernatural passes across Lily’s life.
By contrast Felix is in a pastoral delight with blue skies and the rich smell of the earth, even as it is layered with its own sense of brokenness. Felix’s investigations have him making contact with an arm of his family he knows little about. The contrast is great but that will change.
How these two worlds will collide is what has me puzzled. Clare manages that in the most disarming way.
Lily and Felix’s strengths and little details of their lives are emerging. They are growing as characters. A pleasing aspect.
Another brilliant and palpable read from Clare that had me at various times puzzled, often breathless, and always wondering!
A Severn House ARC via NetGalley.
Many thanks to the author and publisher. show less
Alys Clare's Gabriel Taverner historical mystery series is one of my go-to choices when I'm wanting some light, entertaining reading. The series has been running long enough that all the characters have well developed back stories, and Clare generally provides context in non-heavy-handed ways, so those new to the series can begin with whatever volume they find first. At this point the stories are set in the Jacobean era, but at moments look back to the reign of Elizabeth I.
These mysteries show more are more about the people engaged in solving them, rather than the complexity of the mystery itself. Clare doesn't include a lot of red herrings. Instead she leaves us to walk along her characters as they sort the puzzle out.
The Cargo from Neira opens with the discovery of the body of a woman, a suicide, along a riverbank in deep, snowy winter. The sheriff's assistant arrives shortly before dawn at Taverner's home, asking the physician to accompany him back to the body. Something odd is going on—and it turns out that he has decided to hide the evidence of the attempted suicide, given the harsh penalties, both economic and religious, for suicides and those they leave behind. Hiding the suicide attempt means that both men put themselves at risk of criminal persecution.
Unexpectedly, the supposedly dead woman is revived and taken to Taverner's home for care, where she is revealed to be pregnant. On the one hand, this may dispel some of the risk involved in concealing the suicide, since it was an attempted, but not successful, act. On the other hand, the woman's pregnancy means that she could be considered guilty of attempted murder, since her unborn child would surely have died if she had succeeded. This dilemma gives the book some interesting weight and ethical questions.
The woman is terrified. Unusual murders begin to occur in the area. And the mystery is somehow connected to nutmeg, a spice being newly imported into England. The price of nutmeg was already high because of its rarity. Now unscrupulous quacks are claiming nutmeg will cure the plague, so the price skyrockets even higher. Of course, nutmeg reaches England via ship, and that leads Taverner to wax nostalgic over his years spent as a ship's surgeon...
That's the set-up. As I've indicated, the plot works more because of the developing relationships among the book's characters than because of a complex whodunnit—but it works. My selfish worry as this novel ended was whether Taverner would return to work as a ship's doctor. For whatever reason, I find shipboard mysteries much less compelling than land-based ones, so I'm worried that upcoming volumes may engage me less, but I trust Clare to keep delivering well developed characters and solid plotting.
I received a free electronic review copy of this title from the published via NetGalley; the opinions are my own. show less
These mysteries show more are more about the people engaged in solving them, rather than the complexity of the mystery itself. Clare doesn't include a lot of red herrings. Instead she leaves us to walk along her characters as they sort the puzzle out.
The Cargo from Neira opens with the discovery of the body of a woman, a suicide, along a riverbank in deep, snowy winter. The sheriff's assistant arrives shortly before dawn at Taverner's home, asking the physician to accompany him back to the body. Something odd is going on—and it turns out that he has decided to hide the evidence of the attempted suicide, given the harsh penalties, both economic and religious, for suicides and those they leave behind. Hiding the suicide attempt means that both men put themselves at risk of criminal persecution.
Unexpectedly, the supposedly dead woman is revived and taken to Taverner's home for care, where she is revealed to be pregnant. On the one hand, this may dispel some of the risk involved in concealing the suicide, since it was an attempted, but not successful, act. On the other hand, the woman's pregnancy means that she could be considered guilty of attempted murder, since her unborn child would surely have died if she had succeeded. This dilemma gives the book some interesting weight and ethical questions.
The woman is terrified. Unusual murders begin to occur in the area. And the mystery is somehow connected to nutmeg, a spice being newly imported into England. The price of nutmeg was already high because of its rarity. Now unscrupulous quacks are claiming nutmeg will cure the plague, so the price skyrockets even higher. Of course, nutmeg reaches England via ship, and that leads Taverner to wax nostalgic over his years spent as a ship's surgeon...
That's the set-up. As I've indicated, the plot works more because of the developing relationships among the book's characters than because of a complex whodunnit—but it works. My selfish worry as this novel ended was whether Taverner would return to work as a ship's doctor. For whatever reason, I find shipboard mysteries much less compelling than land-based ones, so I'm worried that upcoming volumes may engage me less, but I trust Clare to keep delivering well developed characters and solid plotting.
I received a free electronic review copy of this title from the published via NetGalley; the opinions are my own. show less
Medieval realism knocks on the door of medieval mysticism
A presence fills the alleys near Gurdyman's house. A vagrant is found dead with a lustrous pearl in his hand propped up against the wall outside Grurdyman's house. Gurdyman is panicked. He knows he's being called back by his past to the places of his childhood and his growth in magico-mystical knowledge.
Lassair is feeling isolated. Jack Chevestrier has sent her away and she finds no place but Gurdyman's. When Gurdyman asks her to show more accompany him to Spain, despite it being near to winter, she agrees. After all healer Lassair is Gurdyman's pupil and as is pointed out, 'it is a part of his duty to ensure that [she] encounter others who are so much further advanced in the arts.’ These words are those of Lassair's aunt, healer Edild. Edild is now married to Hrype, who first introduced Lassair to Gurdyman. Hrype knows what Gurdyman is and what Lassair could be. He also feels that Gurdyman is exposing Lassair to danger.
Along the road to Santiago Lassair and Gurdyman turn off. New fears and experiences become joined. Lassair has become part of what Gurdyman must do. An atonement? Lassair's journey becomes more complex. Lassair and Gurdyman have been pulled into a hidden mystic community and Lassair is being tested.
Meanwhile Jack and Hrype both meet after sensing a malicious presence in Gurdyman's vacant home. They feel the need to follow that presence towards Lassair. Their journey that will involve Lassair's grandfather Thorfinn, an "Icelander whose nickname was the Silver Dragon" who'd given Lassair "a powerful heirloom known as the shining stone."
This is a novel full of unexpected twists and turns. I must admit I'm a tad conflicted. Reading this I felt like I'd wandered into a lookalike set of Shrangrila, although located in medieval times in the Pyrenees, where esotericism is practiced in a secret valley hidden beneath and beyond the mountains.
I am also unsure of how I feel about the ending?... Lassair obviously must follow her path, even if (as I think), Gurdyman has been somewhat duplicitous in everything. Is Lassair cautious enough? She hasn't been that before. And what of Jack? How will things eventually resolve? We are left with the thought that Jack might be more than he appears. That his solidness is meaningful in some way. For a brief moment there seems to be some sort of positive, even hopeful tension between him and Lassair.
Some of the community Lassair encounters seem to think that some deaths are expendable in the big picture. I do wonder if the healer in Lassair will come into conflict with this viewpoint.
Change and growth are a pivotal point for Lassair. How she gets there is dangerous and challenging.
I must say I'm glad I read the previous novel in the series as there might've been gaps that would've annoyed me otherwise. I am also anxious to see where Clare is leading us.
A Severn House ARC via NetGalley show less
A presence fills the alleys near Gurdyman's house. A vagrant is found dead with a lustrous pearl in his hand propped up against the wall outside Grurdyman's house. Gurdyman is panicked. He knows he's being called back by his past to the places of his childhood and his growth in magico-mystical knowledge.
Lassair is feeling isolated. Jack Chevestrier has sent her away and she finds no place but Gurdyman's. When Gurdyman asks her to show more accompany him to Spain, despite it being near to winter, she agrees. After all healer Lassair is Gurdyman's pupil and as is pointed out, 'it is a part of his duty to ensure that [she] encounter others who are so much further advanced in the arts.’ These words are those of Lassair's aunt, healer Edild. Edild is now married to Hrype, who first introduced Lassair to Gurdyman. Hrype knows what Gurdyman is and what Lassair could be. He also feels that Gurdyman is exposing Lassair to danger.
Along the road to Santiago Lassair and Gurdyman turn off. New fears and experiences become joined. Lassair has become part of what Gurdyman must do. An atonement? Lassair's journey becomes more complex. Lassair and Gurdyman have been pulled into a hidden mystic community and Lassair is being tested.
Meanwhile Jack and Hrype both meet after sensing a malicious presence in Gurdyman's vacant home. They feel the need to follow that presence towards Lassair. Their journey that will involve Lassair's grandfather Thorfinn, an "Icelander whose nickname was the Silver Dragon" who'd given Lassair "a powerful heirloom known as the shining stone."
This is a novel full of unexpected twists and turns. I must admit I'm a tad conflicted. Reading this I felt like I'd wandered into a lookalike set of Shrangrila, although located in medieval times in the Pyrenees, where esotericism is practiced in a secret valley hidden beneath and beyond the mountains.
I am also unsure of how I feel about the ending?... Lassair obviously must follow her path, even if (as I think), Gurdyman has been somewhat duplicitous in everything. Is Lassair cautious enough? She hasn't been that before. And what of Jack? How will things eventually resolve? We are left with the thought that Jack might be more than he appears. That his solidness is meaningful in some way. For a brief moment there seems to be some sort of positive, even hopeful tension between him and Lassair.
Some of the community Lassair encounters seem to think that some deaths are expendable in the big picture. I do wonder if the healer in Lassair will come into conflict with this viewpoint.
Change and growth are a pivotal point for Lassair. How she gets there is dangerous and challenging.
I must say I'm glad I read the previous novel in the series as there might've been gaps that would've annoyed me otherwise. I am also anxious to see where Clare is leading us.
A Severn House ARC via NetGalley show less
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