The Hagia Sophia, one of the more important locales in the story.

For those not familiar with the  Ottoman siege, Constantinopolis is a useful companion. It portrays events in an historically accurate way, and Shipman delivers authenticity by stressing the importance of faith and family to the societies in play. On one side of the fence, the establishment is embodied in Constantine XI, Emperor of Constantinople. The city has seen far better days, yet the people seem to love Constantine and see him as a capable ruler. Constantine must also balance his duties against his love life with Zophia, an entirely fictional romantic foil. Opposing Constantine is the disruptive Mehmet II, a brash, young sultan with a lot to prove. While Constantine’s story arc is primarily one of being honorable to his fellow Greeks, Mehmet’s storyline is thematically composed of his desires for glory and vengeance against those who doubt his capabilities.

The chapters themselves are woven seamlessly in their transitions. Each chapter focuses on the point of view of either Constantine or Mehmet, with a few occasional chapters devoted to the Hungarian rulers who would play an important part in the siege’s conclusion. Unfortunately, each chapter becomes more and more repetitive. For example, Mehmet leads a failed Ottoman charge in one chapter, followed by another where Constantine discusses the enemy’s failure from the previous chapter. This will then get broken up by Constantine trying to organize his love life with Zophia. While the point-of-view  format is a great way to spin the narrative and make the characters more believable, the writing does not always work. The dialogue between secondary characters is as interesting as porridge and the reader will likely see the phrase “As you know” countless times.

Not all the writing is poor, however. The characterization of Constantine is historically accurate and Shipman does a fine job representing him as a young ruler with too much on his plate. The emperor’s mind constantly wanders between his vastly different personal desires and professional duties, and this thinking stands in contrast with Mehmet, the Muslim Sultan who sees his personal desires as his professional duties. However, Constantine’s chapters eventually become quite uninteresting, again due to repetition. Constantine tries to gain the affections of Zophia, a beautiful woman who returns his love with loyalty. Their relationship is important, and when things get rocky between them, Constantine makes poor decisions. While the romance is forced and seemingly arbitrarily thrown into the mix, it does help to advance the plot. In the long run, Constantine is simply a likable enough protagonist without this extra angle.

Countering the good guy Constantine trope is the villainous Muslim, Mehmet. While many writers would paint him as a mustache-twirling caricature, Shipman gives the reader ample understanding of the sultan’s motives for wanting to capture Constantinople. Living in the shadow of his father and his Grand Vizier Halil, Mehmet acknowledges that he was not always a wise ruler and wishes to make up for his previous failures by adding Constantinople to his empire. His advisers trust the counsel of Halil, who goes against Mehmet’s interests at every turn and often makes a fool out of the young wolf. Readers will find themselves rooting for Mehmet many times, which paints both warring leaders in shades of grey. While Mehmet’s methods may seem cruel, his faith and his desire for personal growth add humanity to an historically complex character.

Of course, this is a story about war and action scenes are bound to pop up, which are as entertaining as they need to be for those unfamiliar with the historical outcome. Shipman’s description of the battles is vivid, and interestingly enough only seen from the viewpoint of specific characters. Staying true to history, it is unlikely that Mehmet and Constantine would have ever met face-to-face, swords drawn, in the middle of a field while bodies flew every which way around them. Shipman handles the battle scenes with care, and yet everything else is described in much fewer words. A palace is simply described as that – a palace. A wall is simply a wall. Shipman wastes no time in painting the world, which is both good and bad. On one hand, it is a relief not to sift through seven pages just to read the description of a tree. On the other, it would help to have more detail in certain aspects of the novel.

Overall, Constantinopolis is a short read with many great moments. Sadly, there are less than stellar moments that truly weigh down the novel. While it is historically accurate, the modernist dialogue and forced romantic subplot dragged much of the excitement. There is an epilogue at the end which explains what happened to each character after the battle as well, and while it is short, it should be interesting to those who are not as brushed up on their history. If you are inclined to learn more about the great siege of Constantinople, you can purchase the book from Amazon here.

This book was reviewed using a copy provided by the publisher for that purpose.

© 2014, The Indie Mine. All rights reserved.

The Promise of America by Bill Stevens

I love historical fiction. Period pieces that hone the palette with detailed artifacts, pinpointed event dates, and location-specific dialect, give me a special sense of satisfaction. It’s the next best thing to time travel; however, it’s a narrow tight rope to cross. One misplaced adjective, or contemporary attitude, can stand out like a jet liner across a prehistoric sky. In order to preserve the illusion, you can’t invent gun powder in the dark ages or give Chuck Berry that new sound he’s been looking for, or have Forrest Gump shake hands with the President. The Promise of America by Bill Stevens attempts to walk across a rope spanning the late 1800’s, but I can’t say for sure that he plants every step.

Stevens creates a fantastic tableau of the period with viable and believable instances of historical figures that could be used to launch into exposition of the times and enrichment of the era. All too often, however, the sets fade too far into the background in order to highlight the melodrama of the book’s main characters. William Fitzpatrick comes to America and finds work as a bagman for Tammany Hall in order to support his resentful mother and numerous siblings. Through his work he meets Molly Dunn, a whore-become-Madam and mother herself, who forms a friendly alliance with him. Molly introduces William to Anne and Harvey Barney, an upper class couple unashamed of their marriage of convenience. Harvey is gay and makes no secret of his identity (which seems odd given that Oscar Wilde spent a portion of this period in jail for homosexuality). Harvey’s disposition naturally opens the door to an affair between William and Anne, and she invites our protagonist to intervene with several other bored upper class women in search of a sexual dalliance. While the sex made for a good read, it seemed at times the interpersonal relationships were only motivated by sex – even between characters who are not engaging in the act themselves. Admittedly, I am no expert on sexual behaviors of Tammany Hall denizens, but it seems a bit raunchy even for our day and age. In the end, I was more interested in hearing about Grover Cleveland and the Columbian Exhibition of 1893.

William uses his friendship with the Barneys to venture into the business world of rolled cigarettes, a novelty of the times as most cigarettes were hand-rolled. With his Tammany ties, William ensures a lucrative corner in the market. It’s at this time that he begins to travel the country with Anne. Stevens uses these chapters to describe Chicago and the Midwest in the pre-twentieth century. We see glimpses of Irish influence in Chicago and Kentucky, intertwining with American culture and changing the face of the country. His involvement in the tobacco industry shows us the seed of corporate greed beginning to germinate.

We see glimpses of mistrust of the Irish American immigrant, fears of papal influence in America, nods to Bill the Butcher, and even a fictional take on the invention of Cracker Jack, but these themes are only ancillary to the main plot. Sometimes, they seem forced into the context of the relationships they overshadow. Other times, they are punctuated to such effect as to make the reader cringe.

Overall, The Promise of America is an interesting tale torn between its characters and the times they live in. I kept putting the book down to research a date or event that was mentioned casually in passing, and perhaps that was Stevens’ intent. However, I found myself much more intrigued by the Wikipedia entries of the times than I was by the exploits of the characters. If the pendulum had swung a little more towards the history than the fiction, it may have held my interest longer.

© 2012, The Indie Mine. All rights reserved.