Hunt on Dark Waters (Crimson Sails #1) by Katee Robert

I'll admit what made me snatch up this title off my regular reviews list from a big-name publisher was the cover – and this is a bloody lush cover, probably one of the best I've seen in a long, long time. Then I glanced at the blurb, and I was sold onto giving Hunt on Dark Waters by Katee Robert a spin on my Netgalley app. The short of it is that I feel conflicted about this book. I think with the fact that tales on the high seas will no doubt be having a golden age currently thanks to the (at the time of writing) success of the One Piece live action series on Netflix, this book will hit the mark with readers who enjoy romantasy with a twist of piratical flair. At any rate, the parallels with Pirates of the Caribbean are rather evident (and most likely a dominant reason why I picked up this title), if that's your cuppa, and you've got all manner of non-human sentients to contend with. And loads of magic.

But ... And yes, there is a but. 

While I enjoyed Hunt on Dark Waters, to a degree...mostly, I did feel as if the pacing was somewhat off. We have a cracking start, with our plucky, long-fingered witch Evelyn pulling a runner on her vampire ex-girlfriend when she realises that continuing the relationship is not going to create conditions ideal to long-term survival. In her madcap escape, Evelyn accidentally falls through a portal into a world ruled by a bunch of monster hunters known as the Cwn Annwn (the pirates) who press gang her into service aboard a vessel. It's either that, or get tossed back into the ocean where she was found. And she's rather not keen on being unalived, thank you kindly.

And this is where things come unglued, so to speak. Or the wind gets knocked out of the sails, if we're going to stick with nautical themes. Evelyn and Captain Bowen immediately develop an instant obsession with each other that is, well, rather instant in a way that doesn't strike me as plausible. While the bones of the story are there, I don't feel as if the plot is fleshed out well enough to carry through. I got about halfway through the book and felt like things hadn't even gotten off the ground yet. Sure, there's lots of zing and sizzle for the ones who want their hot steamy scenes, but I'd kinda gone into this one wanting a bit more adventure with the romance on the side (the cover hadn't screamed romance at me, which was why I'd made grabby fingers in the first place). So this didn't quite hit the mark for me the way, say, authors like Grace Draven manage to pull off the fantasy romance thing. I'm more for the slow burn, in any case, before the characters start with the heavy petting and shoving tongues down each other's throats.

I can't quite figure out where exactly the wheels came off. All the ingredients are here, and this is a compelling world with oodles of potential and piles of queer representation, but there's a part of me that feels almost as if the book was dashed off without giving it a solid bout of structural editing to fix the pacing issues. It's fun and crunchy, however, and if you're more interested in the heat, then you'll most likely overlook the undercooked plot.

A General History of the Pyrates by Daniel Defoe

I can't quite pinpoint what I find so fascinating about the history of piracy, but listening to the audiobook of A General History of the Pyrates by Daniel Defoe was certainly easier than slogging through the actual reading – so kudos to the narrator, John Lee, for the overall slick execution of the production. That being said, this book is very much a product of its time, and reflects the casual racism and cultural jingoism so inherent to the era and in the author's general outlook. But if you're prepared to look past this, there's a treasure trove of details about the history of piracy during the late 1700s, much of it allegedly drawn from interviews with primary sources.

If you're an author, like me, on the hunt for story seeds, there are certainly plenty to be found among the tales of awful people doing awful things. Which in my mind is pretty much a summary of what this book is about. Forget the golden glow of historical romances – the lives of pirates and indeed any sailors press-ganged into service during the 18th century – were often brutal, bloody, and short. If disease didn't carry you away, a storm might. Or a violent encounter with pirates or an enemy fleet. You'll meet cunning men and women among these pages, as well as wicked, greedy, and violent ones. The fact that the penalty for piracy was death did not deter those who sought opportunity on the high seas – no matter the cost of this dearly bought freedom.

I really don't have much more to say other than the fact that my continued research has offered me a clearer idea of the cultural mores of the era, the challenges faced in sea travel, and how far we've come as a global community compared to what things were like during the 1700s. While much of this book can be quite dry, a patient reader can glean fascinating insights about a time so vastly different from our own.

The Republic of Pirates by Colin Woodard

When you mention the word 'pirate' these days, folks generally either point to the well-known Pirates of the Caribbean films or to the TV series Black Sails. The subject of piracy is far less glamorous than either will paint it out to be, and is far more complex than just a bunch of roving sea dogs out to steal treasure. According to Colin Woodard, the so-called roots of the Golden Age of Piracy lay much deeper, and he explores as much in The Republic of Pirates – Being the True and Surprising Story of the Caribbean Pirates and the Man Who Brought Them Down.

I downloaded the audiobook as part of my monthly Audible subscription, and found it to be both meticulously researched and well presented, with Woodard going into not only the history of the forerunners of piracy, as with Captain Avery, but also examining the complex political intrigues in Europe, slavery, and how these contributed to the phenomenon of piracy during the early 18th century. We follow the doings of the notorious Blackbeard, 'Black Sam' Bellamy and Charles Vane, among others. 

What I found particularly interesting was the notion of piracy as a small counter-revolution (and to a degree a proto-democracy) to the authoritarian nature of government prevalent in the UK and the Americas at the time. Life at sea then was incredibly harsh, with many men being press-ganged into service aboard naval vessels where chances of surviving storm, disease and other misfortune were often slim indeed. And not just that, but these seamen were often merely a step above slaves themselves. Woodard explains how piracy and privateering were natural responses to an oppressive system, and also examines the complicity and insubordination of the communities that supported them.

While Spanish treasure galleons often made the greatest prizes, these sailing fortresses were often challenging prey, so pirates and privateers often turned their sights to easier targets, gradually building themselves up to the point where they could take larger prizes. Woodard also relates the hazards of maritime warfare in great detail, and examines the context in which a number of illustrious and notorious figures rose and fell, until piracy was eventually stamped out. 

This is a well-produced, well-narrated audiobook that I heartily recommend to anyone who is fascinated by the topic and wishes for a starting point in their research. At some point, if I do encounter a print version of this rather hefty tome, I'm certainly adding it to my permanent collection. 

Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl as a template for characters' desires

Sometimes we read a story that doesn’t quite hit the mark. Many readers can’t always articulate why it is that a story isn’t as satisfying as it should be, but as an editor, I can tell you that important milestones exist within every story (and every genre) that if they’re not quite ‘there’ then it means that the story falls flat.

I’d like to talk about heroic qualities, and touch on both inner and outer journeys for characters using a film that I’ve loved ever since it came out: Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. Yes, it’s somewhat silly, and flawed, but what I do believe the writers did well was articulate the main characters’ desires. Each also was the hero of their own story, and each story arc slotted seamlessly in with the others. And most importantly, this film highlights the importance of clearly articulating characters’ desire.

So, let’s go…

Elizabeth Swann is the daughter of Governor Swann, who is in charge of Port Royal. Even though she’s gently bred, she nonetheless yearns for adventure and is a plucky young woman who thinks on her feet. We discover a girl who’s grown up on stories of pirates, and who secretly harbours a desire to experience adventure. Yet she plays the dutiful daughter because that is what society demands. Her initial call to adventure is when as a child she protects the young Will Turner, who is rescued from a shipwreck, and who wears a cursed pirate medallion. She is brave in the face of danger, in sharp contrast to the damsels we often see in film who are the prize and not the ones who claim the prize. Yet she’s not afraid to wield her femininity as a weapon. She is even willing to offer herself up as a prize to Commodore Norrington in order to save the man she loves. Elizabeth shows us a character who despite her apparent vulnerability in a traditionally male-dominated society, is unafraid to give as good as she gets, despite her limitations. Her conflict arises between doing what is expected of her vs following her heart, which is represented in the choice that she makes in whether she will choose a life of security with Norrington or follow her passion and break with tradition by choosing an uncertain life with Turner. A note here on Governor Swann, who bucks the trend of the traditional patriarchal figure who enforces societal norms. He allows his daughter the choice at the end and is concerned for her happiness.

Will Turner is on the standard hero’s quest to find his father, yet his journey to uncover the truth of his past is not smooth. His call to adventure comes when his father sends him a gold medallion, and at a young age he journeys to the Caribbean to find his father. Unknown to him, his father is a ringleader in a pack of pirates fighting over cursed Aztec gold, and he’s been drawn into the heart of this very curse. Employed as a blacksmith’s apprentice with a knack for not only creating fine swords but being a fine swordsman himself, it is clear that he is enamoured with Elizabeth, although she is far about his social station, and theirs would be a most unsuitable match. If it were not for Elizabeth’s kidnapping by the pirates, who mistake her as the scion with the blood who will end their curse, and the fact that Jack Sparrow recognises Will as Bill “Bootstrap” Turner’s son, it is possible that his story would have remained with him crafting swords in Port Royal. Except Sparrow drags him into the adventure, and Will makes startling realisations that horrify him: he is the son of the notorious pirate. And with this he spends most of the film at war with this truth about himself – that there is this wilder side to his nature. He comes fully into himself when he acknowledges his nature, and instead of being the meek blacksmith’s apprentice, he becomes unafraid to take risks and take control of his destiny. While he doesn’t quite gain the closure he desires with regards to his father’s fate, he nonetheless has a better understanding of his place in the world.

Captain Jack Sparrow is perhaps the unluckiest pirate alive, and his existence is filled with one daring escape after the other. He fulfils that delightful grey area of the inveterate trickster who encapsulates both heroic and villainous qualities. Within the story arc of the films it is often through his actions that obstacles are thrown in the path of both protagonist and antagonist, and yet despite his self-serving ways that often are counterproductive to both himself and his allies, he still sets events in motion that are for the good. His desires are clear: he wants to reclaim his ship, the Black Pearl, and he will do anything to attain that goal. The Black Pearl is his prize, his freedom – which is more valuable than gold. It’s these desires of Sparrow that help drive the plot of the film forward and create tension that supports the journeys of Elizabeth, Will and Barbossa.

Captain Barbossa is more than just a one-dimensional villain who rubs his hands in glee. His desire is clear: he wishes to end the curse that sees him endure a shadowy, undead existence, where he is unable to enjoy life’s epicurean pleasures. All he wants is to be able to eat, drink and … well … do the other thing. He is surrounded by opulence, good food, drink, none of which he can taste. He is cursed to sail the Black Pearl through all eternity until he finds that last piece of Aztec gold, which happens to be in Elizabeth’s possession. He needs that medallion and with it spill the blood of Turner. It was through his own greed that he inadvertently sealed his fate when he and his cronies sent Bootstrap to Davy Jones’s locker. Now he has a chance to reclaim his mortality, and his greatest prize, thanks to Will and Elizabeth’s actions. Of course, hijinks ensue, and we end up with a dizzying array of double- and triple crosses.

Where Disney gets this right is that each character is the hero of their own story. If you had to write a book purely from the point of view of any one of these characters, you’d get a perfectly decent story that will no doubt have you at the edge of your seat. Put them all together and balance the tension just right, and you have a beloved, enduring swashbuckling adventure.

The Pirates of the Caribbean franchise is not perfect, and if you ask me, they should have ended at the third movie, but I do believe that we as authors can learn from how these characters’ desires drive them into conflict with each other as each seeks a prize that is unique to them.

Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson

Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson is one of those stories that many of us may have encountered in other forms – I recall a children’s anime series from 1978, directed by Osamu Dezaki. I also recall illustrated children’s books that had the story most likely highly condensed. And that was about it for me.

So it was out of curiosity that I picked up the original (you can download it for free from Project Gutenberg) – just to see how I would respond to it as an adult.

Okay, so I make no apologies, I love pirate stories. I also love morally ambiguous characters (Long John Silver fan right here). Here goes.

While at a glance, Treasure Island is very much a coming-of-age story for our young Jim Hawkins, and is underpinned by a strong sense of lawful good vs. chaotic evil (sorry, I couldn’t help but throw in some RPG terms here), I gain the sense that the story is more about Long John Silver’s quest to steal himself some treasure, and view his story through the eyes of our unreliable young narrator Jim Hawkins, who has stumbled onto the ending of an epic battle.

We are offered a glimpse into the often brutal and mostly violent lives of pirates – men who live on the edge. They risk much and often gain nothing, but the payoff to those savvy enough to stay ahead of the pack is immense – um, there’s treasure involved. Beyond this being an adventure-filled quest, this is also a story about loyalty and, I feel, a kind of subverted father/son relationship between Jim and Long John Silver.

The writing itself is fast paced but laden with so many nautical terms and near incomprehensible dialect between the pirates. So while the story has some sort of authentic feel to it, the narrative may lose readers for the aforementioned. Another thing is that we don’t ever really get a sense of Jim’s feelings – he seems very level headed for one so young as he. Stevenson doesn’t really delve into the emotional side of things, which makes it difficult sometimes to get a full grasp on what motivates Jim.

Overall, this is a quick read, and I’m glad I’ve tucked this one under my belt. At its very bones, there’s a lovely story here that offers fodder for further story seeds. Not for everyone, I suspect, but I do feel strongly that it’s important to dip into the classics from time to time.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales (2017)

Captain Jack Sparrow searches for the trident of Poseidon while being pursued by an undead sea captain and his crew.

Auntie's not going to lie, she's had a bit of a thing for Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) since the silly bugger first staggered onto the screen in 2003. Oh gods. Yes. The movie franchise is *that* old. I'm *that* old. Ah, well, never mind.

My first thoughts when I walked out of the cinema was that this fifth instalment in the series isn't awful. I mean, it could have been worse. I was entertained, yes, but the movie wasn't *sharp*. The humour was slapstick at best, and while loads of peeps in the cinema were laughing, I wasn't. It really wasn't that funny.

I mean, I was entertained, and the CGI was pretty. And there were some awesome things happening, but if you're looking for the same snap that you'd get with Guy Ritchie's King Arthur, you're going to be left hanging.

Plot wise, Dead Men Tell No Tales is a pretty standard hero's journey, evenly divided by the two main characters – Henry Turner (Brenton Thwaites) and Carina Smyth (Kaya Scodelario). Henry is the son of ... yussss, no surprises there. Ta-dum! Will and Elizabeth (Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightley). And he's after the Trident of Poseidon that will allegedly break all curses so that he can reunite his daddoo and mummoo. Carina is our orphan in the storm, the intellectual lass who's got her father's journal with the "map that no man can read" (get it, she's a chick not a dude, so she can read it, huh, huh) and she's on a mission to also find the Trident.

Captain Sparrow, as always, is the trickster figure who's an agent of chaos with the compass that leads to his heart's desire that he keeps ignoring to his own detriment. His denial of this call to adventure results in the release of his spooky arch-nemesis Captain Salazar (Javier Bardem) whom he cursed to undeath (as one does) who's now hell bent on Captain Sparrow's demise (revenge being, of course, one of the noblest causes). Of course to get to Sparrow, Salazar hunts down all the pirates that he can, thereby drawing our old friend Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush) into the equation, and what follows are the usual double-crossings and unbelievable coincidences one comes to expect with any of the PotC films (mainly because I don't think the writers could be arsed to actually develop a nuanced screenplay).

Look, the CGI effects are awesome, but they don't quite make up for the lack of substance for the underlying story. To be fair, if you're in the mood for mindless entertainment, slapstick humour and plenty of explosions and stunts, look no further. This instalment most certainly hangs together more cohesively than Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides (which is not saying much, I know), but there were still moments where I felt that some of the transitions were jagged, and relied on the wow factor to gloss over what the narrative lacked.

Okay, I'm feeling slightly rotten about my ambivalent review, so I'll say it again, this is not a horrible film. It's fun. There are loads of gags, and it had people laughing. And Carina steals the show, honest to goodness, while Henry is just a bland little porridge boy. Hey, one day I'll be jumped up on too much coffee and sugar, and I may even watch all the Pirates of the Caribbean films back to back because I've always got a soft spot for my favourite pirate captain because I quite enjoy Depp slurring and staggering about, oblivious and yet somehow endearing. (Though I find now that he only ever seems to reprise Sparrow with most of his roles that he takes on these days.)

At time of writing, I've noticed that IMDB has an entry for PotC 6 with nothing cast in stone yet. I hope they lay the movie franchise go to rest, with the fifth movie. No. Really. If anything, maybe look at a spin-off TV series and hire some good writers to develop a solid script, but please don't try to flog this pony you've only just managed to scrape up off the ground. Dead Men Tell No Tales ties up the assorted narrative arcs nicely. Let it end here. Please.

The Pirate Queen by Susan Ronald #review

Title: The Pirate Queen Queen Elizabeth I, Her Pirate Adventurers, and the Dawn of Empire
Author: Susan Ronald
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers, 2007

I've needed a book detailing the kind of socio-political-economic environment that would support piracy, and The Pirate Queen gave me exactly the kind of background I needed for my research. As background reading to inform my own writing, this volume provides a rough history of Elizabethan times written in such a way that one isn't too overwhelmed with an info-dump of names, places and famous battles. In other words, it's perfect for someone like me who needed a basic introduction to European history *other* than having watched a handful of historical movies.

Obviously Elizabeth I is the focus of this novel, and she's revealed as both shrewd ruler and a woman who's prone to the flattery of her gentleman adventurers. The dynamics at court, in a traditionally patriarchal society must have had quite a shake-up when she steadfastly refused to marry and give up her sovereignty as ruler. But oh, what a queen she was. Yes, she had her good and bad sides, and the situation with Ireland was definitely a bad side, but honours go to her for strengthening a nation in the face of the massive adversity thanks to Spain.

Up until now, the name Francis Drake meant very little to me, something about voyages around the globe, but Susan Ronald hammers home the conditions in which these gentleman explorers like him had to work in order to succeed in their monumental voyages. Their ships were fragile, wooden things, often at the mercy of the elements. Sickness and privation were spectres that loomed constantly, and if not that mutiny among the crew posed yet more threats.

We take our maps and GPS for granted nowadays. Back then these brave and hardy souls navigated unknown and often hostile territory. Not all the natives they encountered were friendly, and often Spanish colonists were less than welcoming. Ronald touches on the slave trade as well, and how folks like John Hawkins had a hand in this terrible aspect of life during this era. The conditions aboard the slavers must have been hellish, and the fates of those poor souls terrible once they arrived in the New World.

All in all, The Pirate Queen offers a rough sketch illustrating how early plunderers, merchant and pirates gave rise to British maritime strength and set the stage for the British Empire that was to follow. I came away with a better understanding of the murky politics in the English court and how Elizabeth I's reign shaped European history. Overall, I feel like I've had a great starting point for further reading.