Jude Fisher

The Salt Road by Jane Johnson is the second of three novels set in Morocco. These books are all stand-alone stories, set at various points in history. The Salt Road follows two story-lines that are about thirty years apart in the not too distant past. I found this book to be an excellent escape read, very atmospheric and romantic, but for me, the stars of this book were the Sahara Desert and the Tuareg people, nomads of this immense land.

The story spans generations and cultures, from a show more modern-day Isabelle, who comes to Morocco on a climbing holiday to the headstrong Mariata, a young Tuareg woman who must flee to the desert to find refuge and shelter. Both women find adventure and love along the ancient caravan route across the Sahara called the Salt Road. The author’s vivid descriptions of the breathtaking beauty and incredible danger of the Sahara will long remain in my mind.

The Salt Road was rich in it’s description and I loved reading about the exotic culture of the desert people. The ingredients of The Salt Road were mainly mystery, romance and travelogue which blended well. The weakness in the book is that having two narratives to follow meant that the author had to take a few short cuts and the emotional depth of the book suffered from this particularly in the romance angle. Ultimately the information learned and the entertainment offered far outweighed the books short-comings and I was a happy armchair traveller. show less

Jane Johnson's The Black Crescent offers a read that fascinates both in terms of history and plot. Set in the years before, during, and after the French withdrawal from Morocco, The Black Crescent follows the life of Hamou Badi, who spends his childhood in a village, but relocates to Casablanca as he's responsible for his mother and sister, which means finding the kind of paying work not available in a village.

Hamou decides to become a police officer, a position he believes will allow him a show more chance to stand up for the rights of the victimized and overlooked. He excels in his training program and is welcomed by the Sureté, the French police. Welcomed, not in the sense of "you're one of us now; we are brothers," but in the sense of "we can use you, and of course we'll assign you the most boring and most dangerous work, including furthering our control over your own people." At first Hamou finds satisfaction in his work. He does help the victimized and overlooked when given the opportunity, but such opportunities evaporate as the resistance against French colonial rule grows.

Hamou is trained in weapons use and finds himself assigned to tamp down protests and to ferret out those involved in clandestine independence groups. This is the crux of the novel: Hamou's witnessing of his own compromises and his growing unwillingness to maintain French power.

The promo material for the novel emphasizes the fact that Hamou is born with lines across his palms that mark him as a zhoury—a human who is part Djinn and who has remarkable skills and luck beyond the ordinary. I was expecting a novel heavy on magical realism, but that isn't the case. Readers see a handful of moments of great luck in Hamou's life, but mostly he is an ordinary man trying to live an ordinary life in a time when the meaning of "ordinary" is shifting as colonial society breaks down. This isn't a tale of magical realism; it's a tale of life as occupation crumbles and new norms emerge.

At first, I found the lack of magical realism disappointing, because I enjoy the genre. As I continued to read, however, I appreciated that events in the book aren't driven by magic, but by human inequities, tensions, and aspirations.

If you're interested in the history of French-occupied northern Africa or the struggle against colonialism you'll find this novel engaging, even though—or perhaps because—Hamou isn't a capital-H Hero, but a man who manages moments of small-h heroism during a dangerous time. But even if you're not interested in the historic aspects of the story, you'll find yourself appreciating the way The Black Crescent explores the costs and rewards of right action.

I received a free electronic review copy of this title from the publisher via Edelweiss; the opinions are my own. show less

Rebecca is cleaning out her mother’s flat after her death. She comes across an old letter from Olivia, an elderly relative she did not know she had. Olivia is in dire need of help so Rebecca decides she needs to be there. She has no idea what to expect. And it turns out to be much more than expected!

The house is falling apart, literally, when Rebecca arrives. She also discovers that Olivia is in the hospital and cannot return until her house is fixed. Rebecca takes this on and discovers show more quite a few buried secrets and dangers.

I love Olivia. You talk about cantankerous and a tough old nut to crack…she is it! She has lived a tough life as Rebecca slowly discovers.

Then there is Rebecca. She is actually running away from home and Olivia is just a fabulous excuse to do so. She and Olivia slowly develop a like and a trust for each other. Rebecca also discovers she may have bitten off more than she can chew.

I enjoyed so many parts to this story. The mystery and the hidden secrets really captivated me. I did feel the flash backs to Olivia’s life during WWII slowed down the story. It is a necessary part of the novel. I just did not enjoy it as much as the present day portion.

The characters, the setting and the mystery really work so well together and I would love to have a sequel. show less

The White Hare provides a wonderful, spooky read that remains rewarding throughout. I have run up against so many books lately that begin with promise, but lose course, that I can't begin to say how grateful I am for a title that I never once considered abandoning.

The White Hare has plot elements that are familiar: outsiders come to a small community and are made less than welcome; there's a strange man who keeps showing up, but has no known address; the local priest is determined to stamp show more out paganism; other members of the community practice the old ways; the sea broods; past horrors are alluded to, but never explained.

Our outsiders in this case are a trio of women: grandmother and mother are both Polish immigrants who immigrated to the UK at the start of WWII; the daughter, Janey, not quite school-age, is UK-born. The two older women are both fleeing their own traumas, but Janey remains content with her rabbit-toy best friend and eager to explore the forests and beaches near her new home. But then Rabbit disappears—and reappears—and suddenly conversations between Janey and Rabbit become more mysterious and esoteric.

One of the joys of this title is the way it steadily builds a sense of menace, but also sustains a sense of hope. I kept waiting for the moment of horror that would ruin the book for me, but—despite plenty of unworldly events—that moment never came.

If you like "gothic" (not quite the right word here, but I'll go with it) fiction, but aren't interested in bloodbaths, you are going to *love* The White Hare. The balance of unease and comfort offered by the book lets readers walk a fine edge without a sudden fall to either side.

I received a free electronic review copy of this title from the publisher via NetGallet; the opinions are my own. show less