• The Dry Blog Tour - Jane Harper's thriller is Little, Brown's lead debut for 2017 and I've been fortunate enough to receive a copy to review as part of the novel's blog tour. You can read my review on Monday 9th January.

• A Boy Made Of Blocks Blog Tour - Again, the team at Little, Brown were lovely enough to invite me to be a part of the blog tour for Keith Stuart's moving novel about autism. You can read my review on the Friday 20th January tour stop.

• Travel posts - Ah, yes, that old chestnut. Having tried my hand at travel posts before, I figured it's time I finally share the beautiful snaps that I took earlier in March of this year during my trip to the Philippines. Keep your eyes peeled for these posts... and maybe subscribe by adding your e-mail in the handy widget at the bottom of the blog. That way you'll never miss an update!

• 11.22.63 Review - I recently finished Stephen King's 11.22.63 (Hurrah! About bloody time!). Without giving too much of the final review away, it was absolutely incredible. A full review should be up on the blog in a few weeks time once I've picked my jaw off the floor and can comprehend all the awesomeness.

Continuing with blog tradition, it's time for my annual 'What I'm Reading This Christmas' post and trust me when I say that I have gone all out this year as I have two festive themed reads that I've been indulging in over the past few weeks to share with you!


Now David is all grown up. He's gorgeous, successful, and certain of one thing: Leah should sell him her half of the house. They can’t agree, but as they share memories over wine by the log fire, Leah notices a fluttering in her stomach. And by the look in his eyes, he's starting to feel it too. Will it be Leah or David who must give up their dreams? Or, with a little bit of Christmas magic, will they finally understand Nan's advice to them both about living life without regrets... and take a chance on true love?

This novel shouldn't have been marketed as a Christmas read at all, because it's not. There's very little festive spirit in this supposed 'Christmas novel' and any Christmas cheer that does occur is towards the end and very short-lived.

At the end of the day, there's one genre that I always come back to and that is romance. No matter how many intense psychological, action-packed thrillers I read, to me, nothing is quite as engrossing as the drama of love. A consumer of both classical novels and more modern literature, I'll be focusing on leading literary men from the olden times today. Fear not, a post with some up-to-date more recent literary 'lads' (as we'd call them nowadays) will follow in due course.

Swoon and sigh at the sauve and chivalrous sirs on this list and feel free to share your own favourite literary loves!

I've not written about my dad's passing since it happened very, very suddenly in April of this year. Partly because I tear up even thinking about it, so putting pen to paper - or rather fingers to keyboard - is an impossible feat. And also, because I don't know what to say.

How do you sum up the entire existence of someone who meant so much to you in a simple blog post? It doesn't seem feasible. Summing up all the emotions that have come with the grieving process is one of the hardest things I've done and I've written college essays on an abundance of obscure topics.


Since April, I have started and deleted well over a hundred drafts of posts regarding the passing of my father. Most of them have been tribute posts, but I learnt very quickly that listing all your memories together and having to write the words 'goodbye' a lot will reduce you to tears in no time. Once your vision's all blurred up and you've run out of tissues to dry your eyes, abandoning the post can be the easiest thing to do.

Writing is my therapy. Whether it be complaint e-mails where I get to vent to the supermarket for forgetting to include broccoli in my delivery or whether it be talking about the most exciting adventure I went on. Regardless of whether the work ends up sitting in my drafts never to be published, I express a lot of my emotions through writing.

During the time when I was mulling over ideas on what I could write, I did consider a Buzzfeed-esque 'What I've Learnt' post, but in all honesty, that would have been most bogus post I could put out there. I'm not over it. I will still randomly burst into tears every single day when I'm alone. Or when I see something that reminds me of him. Or when I encounter something really exciting or interesting for the first time and I want to see him and tell him all about it, but then I remember I can't.

I'm crying this very second while writing this post. So, for me to give advice just yet wouldn't be right. I have learnt things, but it's only been about seven months and I'm still trying to cope with it and figure out how to deal with the aftermath. Life goes on, and for someone whose whole world has changed in a matter of seconds, that can be a harsh reality. You half expect the world to stop, but it doesn't. Having to adjust to the event and slide into a new routine and return to society is tough.

I turned eighteen on 29th March, by April 26th my father was gone. Instead of preparing to sit my college exams, I was attending his funeral. In the span of four weeks, my entire life had turned upside down and I couldn't comprehend it. To some extent, I still can't comprehend it. We were celebrating me finally becoming a fully fledged adult with my family in Philippines, then less than two weeks after our return, that was it.

His cancer had come back unbeknownst to everyone - including him. My dad had been ill and in and out of hospital since I was little. Bowel cancer. He had a colostomy and then a reversal. He later developed a hernia and had to get that removed, but after overcoming all those things, we thought his diabetes was the only problem that was left. We were wrong.

Long story short, they found the cancer in his lungs, heart, liver, kidneys... you name it. It was the worst thing imaginable and I still can't understand how he managed to power through all that. Granted, he was unaware, but he must've been in excruciating pain. But my dad was my dad. He was stubborn, strong and prideful and he didn't like to admit something was wrong or seem weak.

As someone who suffered merciless bullying throughout my school years from my peers, I became quite introverted and my parents became the only friends I had and the only people I completely trusted and confided in. Due to the hard time I had in comprehensive school, I continue to suffer with social anxiety and acute depression, and as you can imagine the death of my father has made this worse. I'm lucky that I don't get bad episodes as frequently anymore, but losing someone who firmly encouraged me to believe that I was an important and valuable human being has been a blow to the system and has put me back in a little bit of a tricky and emotional place for awhile hence the lack of posts.

This isn't meant in a 'Oh, look at me poor me!' way, I just wanted to express what I've been going through without having to sugarcoat it with a lie and pretend that I'm completely fine. The close friendship that I had with my father after all the hardships he'd seen me through meant that his death had, and still continues to have, a profound impact on me emotionally. Although, I'm sure that this will get easier to deal with over time, I think it's important just to say 'Hey, I'm not doing great, but I'm trying' and I feel like I owe my loyal readers this explanation. It's been a struggle. Especially as the online world and the bubble of social media makes us strive to paint our lives as perfect and '#goals', but they're really not.

Also, I've been mailed a lot of thriller and crime novels lately for reviewing which sometimes can be overbearing depending on the subject matter. So, if anyone has some light, romantic or even comedic reads, then please send them my way haha!

My dad's death is predominately the reason I have yet to share my holiday snaps of when we went to Philippines to celebrate my eighteenth birthday. It's just been too devastating and it's hard to cheerfully write about your travels when you still haven't addressed the heartbreak of having to look back through all the happy photographs and know that one person in them is no longer alive and breathing. Hopefully, now that I've talked about it and am slowly getting to used to talking about him in past tense, I will be able to compose posts about that vacation soon with minimal crying involved in the writing process.

I don't want to remember my dad with pallid green, cold skin lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life to no success. I want to remember him as the man who, along with my mother, fostered my love of books, reading and discussing. The man who used to sit me on his knee and tell me stories, inventing wacky tales of planets that inhabited crazy clowns and men with saucepan hats. The man who I would spent hours with debating about who was the better superhero, Iron Man or Captain America. He was for the former, I for the latter. Sadly, we didn't get the satisfaction of watching Captain America: Civil War together and settling that debate.

And that's what I want him to be remembered as. A kind, witty and loving man because he was.

The thing I want people to take away from reading this is not just that my dad died and I'm devastated about it, but that if you're fortunate to have someone who cares for you and loves you deeply then thank them! I know I never said 'I love you' enough times nor did I appreciate him enough. That sense of regret and 'I should've done this' or 'I should've told him this' ways down on me quite heavily. So, please take full advantage of what time you have with your loved ones and let them know that they're loved.

Dad, I promise to make you proud in everything I do and I love you and miss you so, so much!

I received a copy of this book from Lola's Blog Tours in exchange for an honest review.

For most people, Christmas is a time of joy and anticipation.

But when a freak accident robs Gracie of her memory, the lines between fantasy and reality blur. There's only one thing Gracie wants for Christmas this year and the only man who can bring it is not Santa.

BUY BOOK (Currently only available from US Kindle Store) | ADD TO GOODREADS

Thank you to the team at Hachette/Little Brown Book Group for sending me a copy of Frances Brody's Death at the Seaside in exchange for a review and for inviting me to be a part of the Death at the Seaside Blog Tour.

No, your eyes are not mistaken. I have ventured out of my not-so-brief blogging hiatus and an explanation as to where I've been and why will soon follow in another post someday, but first, I must tell you all about one of the best books I've read this year (and possibly ever!).

Thank you to Jenni Leech and the team at Hodder Books for allowing me to read an ARC of Stephanie Garber's mesmerising new novel.

Before you enter the world of Caraval, you must remember that it's all a game...

Scarlett has never left the tiny island where she and her beloved sister, Tella, live with their ruthless father. Now Scarlett's father has arranged a marriage for her, and Scarlett thinks her dreams of seeing Caraval, the legendary, once-a-year performance where the audience participates in the show, are over.

Then, Scarlett's long-dreamt of invitation to Caraval finally arrives. So, Tella enlists a mysterious sailor's help to whisk Scarlett away to this year's show. But as soon as the trio arrives, Tella is kidnapped by Caraval’s mastermind organizer, Legend.

Scarlett has been told that everything that happens during Caraval is only an elaborate performance. But she nonetheless soon becomes enmeshed in a game of love, heartbreak, and magic with her sister, with Legend, and with the other players in the game. And whether Caraval is real or not, she must find Tella before the five nights of the game are over, a dangerous domino effect of consequences is set off, and her sister disappears forever.

Today's my stop on the Dandy Gilver Blog Tour and to promote the latest installment in the Dandy Gilver series, A Most Misleading Habit, I got the chance to do a brief Q&A with author Catriona McPherson.

Can you tell me about A Most Misleading Habit and what inspired this installment of the Dandy Gilver series?

I've wanted to write about nuns for a while: a household full of what were seriously radical women for that time and place and a culture so alien for Dandy that she would be completely out of her depth. And just the glamour of those swishing black habits themselves. It was exactly as much fun as I expected. I fell a little bit in love with all of the Sisters of St Ultan.

Of course there has to be a plot as well. I got a review from . . . I think it was The Independent . . . a while back that called a story "just this side of ludicrous". What a challenge, eh? I’ve been trying to see if there’s any more room "this side of ludicrous" ever since. So in this book, there’s been an outbreak of arson in the convent chapel, on Christmas Eve no less, and a break out of inmates from a nearby insane asylum, two of whom are still at large. And there’s a third strand of plot, but I can’t talk about it without spoilers. Dandy is engaged by the nuns and Alec has a friend in the asylum, still broken by shell shock after WWI. Add fifty orphans, three posh sisters who carry out good works, long-kept secrets . . . and we're off.

Did you need to do any specific research for this book regarding the nunneries? If so, did you discover any facts that surprised you? 

Okay, I've got to admit I'm a big fan of making stuff up. If you make stuff up in enough detail and with enough gusto you save a lot of research time. But some things have to be right. I did a bit of reading about exactly how an independent order of nuns would function and I kept a print-out of daily devotions at my side while I was writing: from the first Angelus at five in the morning to the end of Compline at getting on for nine at night.

There's one bit of research I wish I hadn't done. I wanted to set a scene in the convent laundry and so I needed to know what the laundresses would be washing. Here's a tip: never google "nuns' underwear". I don't think those women were real nuns.

What inspired you to initially begin writing the Dandy Gilver series?

Ha! Yes, well, I had just written my first novel (after leaving a lecturing post in a university English department) and was at the stage of putting it in a drawer along with its forty rejections. I was sitting on a cold beach in Scotland taking stock of my foolishness (in thinking I could pack in my job and be a writer). My husband, Neil, was in pep-talk mode. "What do you love?" he asked me. "What do you want to read? What did you wish there was more of"  And I came back with Dorothy L Sayers, Agatha Christie, Margery Allingham, Michael Innes . . . "Write a golden-age-style story for fun then," said Neil. "As a palate cleanser, before your next serious project."

So we started talking about this woman and her house and her dog and her children (in that order, for Dandy) and her first case. And now it's eleven books later. Palate cleansed.

How did you get into writing? Any tips for aspiring novelists?

I've written and deleted three answers to this because I didn't want to sound bossy. But I do think this needs to be said. I got into writing by putting my bum in a chair and writing the best book I could write. Then putting that book in a drawer and writing another one, trying to make it better.

Nothing else means a thing until the book is written. Networking, taking classes, going to conferences, reading how-to manuals about writing, setting up a blog, buying your name as a website domain, tweeting #amwriting . . . there are so many ways to get a lovely feeling of writeriness without actually writing.

It worries me to hear beginning writers talk as if the actual bum in chair, hands on keyboard slog is some kind of technicality or afterthought. I got an email recently from a new writer saying they had written a synopsis, a covering letter and three chapters and wanted my advice about what to do next. Chapter four!

What are you reading right now?

Ah, good. An easy one. I'm reading Francis Brody's Death of An Avid Reader, because I'm chairing a panel at the Harrogate Crime Festival next week. It's Francis, Ann Granger, Ruth Ware, and . . . who's the other fellow? . . . oh yes, only Simon Brett OBE. We're charged with talking about the continuing influence of the Golden Age (but I'm plotting mischief.)

What's one book to movie adaptation that you really love? Would you ever like to see Dandy on the big screen? 

I think Heidi Thomas did a fantastic job with Dodie Smith's I Capture The Castle. And she was responsible for the BBC Ballet Shoes from the Noel Streatfield novel and the BBC Cranford from Mrs Gaskell's novella, both of which were stellar. But the best ever for me is Emma Thompson’s Sense and Sensibility.

I don't see Dandy on the big screen, but I live in permanent state of corkscrewiness from keeping everything crossed for her on the small screen, STV has the option and is at work.

What's one thing people would be surprised to know about you?

Oof. I'm such an unsurprising person. Oh wait – here's one. Dandy's Dalmatian, Bunty, has been a staple in the books since the start. Dandy loves her beyond all reason (see above) and readers seem to feel great affection for her too. But I'm a cat person.

If you were, for some reason, stranded on a desert island, what three books would you like to have with you and why? 

Just three, eh? And I'm going to stick with Desert Island Discs rules and assume no collected works. I've never read any Charles Dickens. (Maybe that should have been the answer to the last question.) So I'd take his longest one. What's that? Bleak House? David Copperfield? And I'd take a copy of it in an exotic language too, and try to use the two texts to devise the grammar of the language I didn't know. That would keep me busy. And Pride and Prejudice.


Dandy Gilver and a Most Misleading Habit hits bookstores tomorrow, July 14th.

You better start making some room on your bookshelf because Megan Tayte's Ceruleans series is finally available to purchase in paperback format and with all new covers!

I have been so lucky to have been given the chance to read and review these books by Megan over the past months. She's an exceptional writer and I could get lost in Scarlett's story for hours on end which is why I'm beyond thrilled that the series is something you can now psychically own and gaze adoringly at on your bookshelf.

For those unaware, the paranormal romance series follows seventeen-year-old Scarlett Blake who is left haunted by death after her sister, the carefree Sienna, supposedly commits suicide.

In a quest for the truth, Scarlett arrives at an isolated English cove where she eventually bumps into two boys who are determined to help her. There's Luke, the blue-eyed surfer who'll see the real Scarlett, challenge her and who'll save her. But there's also Jude, an elusive drifter with a knack for showing up just when Scarlett's in need.

As the story begins to unravel, so does Scarlett's grip on reality as she knows it. There's something strange going on in this little cove.

The Ceruleans: mere mortals infused with power over life and death. Five books, one question: If the might of the heavens were in your hands, would you be sinner or saint?

Like I said, I feel so very fortunate to have had Megan approach me about reviewing this series. Very few books have gripped me the way that the Ceruleans series does. You'll laugh, cry and fall in love with these amazing characters and their journey.

Hello!

I'm coming out of post-holiday hibernation to share with you an article that I wrote a few days ago in light of all the recent controversy that has sparked about Hollywood's issue with whitewashing person of colour originated roles.

I originally wrote the article for media/news website Talk Nerdy With Us that I sometimes contribute on, but it dawned on me that perhaps not a lot of you follow me and my pop culture writing ventures on that platform. So I decided that I would share it with you over here on my blog.

If you'd like to view the article in its original, probably fancier format on the Talk Nerdy With Us website then click here. Otherwise, let's talk about Hollywood and whitewashing.

Hollywood has a problem. Actually, it has a lot of problems. But there's one specific issue that can no longer be ignored.

Growing up, I’ve always seen far less ethnic minorities on screen as opposed to white actors and actresses. Part and parcel of why I used to want to act when I was a young girl was because I wanted to see more people like my little Asian self on screen. I wanted more representation, but at seven years old I didn't realize how unnecessarily hard the battle to get people of colour on screen is.

While attitudes have shifted over the years and we've become a more celebratory and acceptive society, the reluctance to give non-white actors their moment on screen is still an all too familiar fixture. For every step we take forward – For example, the diverse casting in Freeform's Shadowhunters – we take steps back. See The 100's notoriously poor treatment of characters of colour. Whitewashing, the practice of casting white actors in non-white roles, has unfortunately been a long-term tradition in Hollywood. Recent cases of whitewashing include Rooney Mara's casting as Native American Tiger Lily in the Box Office flop that was Pan, Emma Stone as a half-Chinese/half-Hawaiian woman in Aloha and Gods of Egypt's entire caucasian cast. Not to mention, all this happened in the past year alone.

A couple of days ago, the first image of Scarlett Johansson in the new movie Ghost in the Shell was released sparking a plethora of controversy. Why, you ask? Because the story is a live-action adaptation of Masamune Shirow's manga series of the same name and Johansson's character, Major Mokoto Kusanagi (simply shortened to Major for the movie), is not Danish-Polish but in fact Asian. Even when Johansson was cast there was an outcry asking why the studio couldn’t possibly have chosen an ethnically appropriate actress to play the lead role? Perhaps Lucy Liu and Maggie Q were busy.

 Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D actress Ming-Na Wen took to Twitter to speak out against the casting.

Nothing against Scarlett Johansson. In fact, I'm a big fan. But everything against this Whitewashing of Asian role.😒 https://t.co/VS6r6iish9

— Ming-Na Wen (@MingNa) April 14, 2016

It's even reported that producers allegedly attempted to fix the backlash the only way they know how: CGI. According to independent sources close to the project, Paramount and DreamWorks commissioned visual effects tests that would’ve altered Johansson in post-production to "shift her ethnicity" and make her appear more Asian. Though the tests were conducted and reviewed, an insider revealed to ScreenCrush that they were immediately shelved.

However, Ghost in the Shell isn't the only offender this year. The ScarJo casting controversy comes just days after the trailer debut of Marvel's latest comic book to movie venture, Doctor Strange, which saw a bald Tilda Swinton channeling her inner Tibetan man. For those who aren't keen comic enthusiasts and may be confused, Swinton's character of the Ancient One is not only Asian, but originally an Asian male.

Marvel Studios president Kevin Feige told EW that their reason for casting Swinton as the Ancient One was to shy away from any stereotyping roles and that they also liked the idea of the Tibetan mystic being a woman.

Johansson (left) and Swindon (right) in their roles.

The original comic book Ancient One that Swinton portrays in the movie

While I’m all for girl power and making room for some kickass female characters, let's not pretend that in a movie with an origin story so heavily reliant on Asian themes there was no way they could not find an Asian actor or actress who could've done this part justice. Swinton has already established herself with roles in The Chronicles of Narnia and We Need to Talk About Kevin, Marvel could have cast an Asian newcomer. Even better, just cast Asians in this project instead of sticking to the Oriental backstory but making your cast largely white. You know how amazing and different that would have been?

I can give them points for gender-bending that character, but I’ll demerit all those points back for the blatant whitewashing.

The origins of Doctor Strange are steeped in Oriental stereotypes and Angry Asian Man blogger Phil Yu best summarised the situation here.

"…But putting a bald white lady in the role doesn’t fix much. It’s still whitewashing. Yes, it's a two-minute trailer that doesn’t reveal a whole lot, but it reveals enough. Plot summary: Bearded White Guy journeys to Asia, where a bald white lady teaches him Mystical Asian Stuff. White Guy masters said Mystical Asian Stuff. Then White Guy uses the Mystical Asian Stuff to fight bad guys. The end."

We already live in a world where Asian and dark-skinned actors are scarcely given the opportunity to play leads in a Hollywood movie. What's even more disheartening is that Hollywood itself won't even cast Asian actors to play characters in works where the characters are originally Asian. See another example of Nat Wolff in the upcoming adaptation of Death Note.

It's not as if the argument is that Swinton and Johansson were the only women qualified for the job as online comment boards and forums have thrown up tons of suggestions. Many backed Oscar nominee Rinko Kikuchi as someone who would make an ideal live-action Kusanagi for Ghost in the Shell, but Johansson has more star power and that's the sad reason why they allowed this role to be whitewashed.

Realistically, Hollywood is unwilling to churn out the next big A-List Asian movie star. Gone are the days of big Asian names like Jet Li and Jackie Chan, instead, say hello to Tilda Swinton and Scarlett Johansson.

@Hollywood – If you want to use our stories and our characters, please use our actors. Don't whitewash these characters for the sake of bringing in the big bucks. It's proven with Pan and Gods of Egypt that it doesn't work (even if the films themselves sucked in their entirety). I promise you that Asian actors are more than capable to tackle any role, even roles of actual Asian characters.

To finish; here's a tragically accurate Tumblr post.


To view other articles that I've written for Talk Nerdy With Us, you can view my page here.

On the second sabbat of Twelfthmoon, in the city of Weep, a girl fell from the sky. 

 Her skin was blue, her blood was red. 

She broke over an iron gate, crimping it on impact, and there she hung, impossibly arched, graceful as a temple dancer swooning on a lover's arm. One slick finial anchored her in place. Its point, protruding from her sternum, glittered like a brooch. She fluttered briefly as her ghost shook loose, and then her hands relaxed, shedding fistfuls of freshly picked torch ginger buds. 

Later, they would say these had been hummingbird hearts and not blossoms at all. 

They would say she hadn't shed blood but wept it. That she was lewd, tonguing her teeth at them, upside down and dying, that she vomited a serpent that turned to smoke when it hit the ground. They would say a flock of moths had come, frantic, and tried to lift her away. 

That was true. Only that. 

They hadn't a prayer, though. The moths were no bigger than the startled mouths of children, and even dozens together could only pluck at the strands of her darkening hair until their wings sagged, sodden with her blood. They were purled away with the blossoms as a grit-choked gust came blasting down the street. The earth heaved underfoot. The sky spun on its axis. A queer brilliance lanced through billowing smoke, and the people of Weep had to squint against it. Blowing grit and hot light and the stink of saltpeter. There had been an explosion. They might have died, all and easily, but only this girl had, shaken from some pocket of the sky. 

Her feet were bare, her mouth stained damson. Her pockets were all full of plums. 

She was young and lovely and surprised and dead. 

She was also blue. Blue as opals, pale blue. Blue as cornflowers, or dragonfly wings, or a spring—not summer—sky. 

Someone screamed. The scream drew others. The others screamed, too, not because a girl was dead, but because the girl was blue, and this meant something in the city of Weep. Even after the sky stopped reeling, and the earth settled, and the last fume spluttered from the blast site and dispersed, the screams went on, feeding themselves from voice to voice, a virus of the air. 

The blue girl's ghost gathered itself and perched, bereft, upon the spearpoint-tip of the projecting finial, just an inch above her own still chest. Gasping in shock, she tilted back her invisible head and gazed, mournfully, up. The screams went on and on. And across the city, atop a monolithic wedge of seamless, mirror-smooth metal, a statue stirred, as though awakened by the tumult, and slowly lifted its great horned head.

Here are the jackets for Strange the Dreamer;

Wisdom teeth woes aside, something historical happened this week. I finished War and Peace.

That's right. I have completed my lengthy and often tedious battle with Tolstoy's thousand page novel. To say I'm proud of myself would be an understatement.

I adored the BBC adaptation and that's what had prompted me to pick up the book, but you can read all about my adoration for the television version here on Talk Nerdy With Us.

When it comes to Tolstoy's book, I didn't love it or loathe it. My inability to form a concrete opinion of the book is why I had a hard time deciding if I was going to write-up about it at all. But after much debate, I decided that as finishing it was such a personal reading milestone to me it would be good to share my thoughts on it even if I feel a little shameful I can't give it five stars.

Widely considered the greatest novel ever written in any language, War and Peace has as its backdrop Napoleon’s invasion of Russia and at its heart three of the most memorable characters in literature: Pierre Bezukhov, a quixotic young man in search of spiritual joy; Prince Andrey Bolkonsky, a cynical intellectual transformed by the suffering of war; and the bewitching and impulsive Natasha Rostov, daughter of a count. As they seek fulfillment, fall in love, make mistakes, and become scarred by battle in different ways, these characters and their stories interweave with those of a huge cast, from aristocrats to peasants, from soldiers to Napoleon himself.