I received this book for an honest review. All expressed opinions, cynical or otherwise, are my own.
As I think I have illuminated before, historical fiction is a difficult genre to tackle. You are either going to irritate a history nerd, or a fiction nerd; almost always a no-win situation. This isn’t non-fiction, and it takes more than pure research to make these characters live again. In this matter, how does The Irish Fiasco fair, by Geoffe Quaife fair? It does OK.
It is a time of great strife. Religious wars, rebellions in Ireland and the civil wars in England set the stage. Cromwell’s special agent, Luke Tremayne is in the thick of it. He has been tasked to both uncover the murder of Angus McGregor and recover an Abbot’s stolen treasure.
What proceeds is a flawed, mixed bag of a detective story. There is info dumping. A lot of telling, over showing. Tedious dialogue, and a general lack of understanding on how to build tension. There are also cringe worthy scenes that seem forced, what serve little purpose to advance the plot or develop the character:
“Luke removed her bodice and lifted her skirt above her head. This was a problem, as Luke could not simultaneously nibble her nipples…mutual stimulation occurred.”
But all is not lost. After chapter twelve the author hits his stride. The dialogue becomes tighter, the action stops being broken up by annoying monologues. It is a different book which, while still dry, is at least interesting. There is also quite a bit of detail and information, lending weight and authenticity to Quaife’s expertise on the subject matter. Unfortunately, all this combined with effective editing is not enough to pull the rest of the book up by its bootstraps.
The Irish Fiasco is a flawed, plodding work. And while there will be those who will enjoy the narrative, this reader at least felt under stimulated.
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