Jo Graham

Numinous World — (2008-2010) These are stand-alone historical fantasies set in the same world with overlapping characters. Several more novels are planned.

Black Ships — (2008) Publisher: The world is ending. One by one the mighty cities are falling, to earthquakes, to flood, to raiders on both land and sea. In a time of war and doubt, Gull is an oracle. Daughter of a slave taken from fallen Troy, chosen at the age of seven to be the voice of the Lady of the Dead, it is her destiny to counsel kings. When nine black ships appear, captained by an exiled Trojan prince, Gull must decide between the life she has been destined for and the most perilous adventure — to join the remnant of her mother's people in their desperate flight. From the doomed bastions of the City of Pirates to the temples of Byblos, from the intrigues of the Egyptian court to the haunted caves beneath Mount Vesuvius, only Gull can guide Prince Aeneas on his quest, and only she can dare the gates of the Underworld itself to lead him to his destiny. In the last shadowed days of the Age of Bronze, one woman dreams of the world beginning anew. This is her story.

Black Ships: Cross the wine-dark sea with Gull — you won't regret it

There's nothing I love so much as sinking into a big fat book that combines the sweep of history with a dash of magic. This book is an adaptation of The Aeneid, from the point of view of the Sybil who, in the poem, guides Aeneas through the underworld.

She's a lot more fleshed out here. Her name is Gull, later known as Linnea and as Pythia, and jumps off the page from the very beginning of chapter one with a self-introduction that reminded me a bit of Phèdre's at the beginning of Kushiel's Dart. The wording and the voice are different, but it's the same sort of introduction: This is me. This is who I am. Take me or leave me — and if you take me, I've got a damn good story to tell you.

Gull is the daughter of a Trojan slave. When she is crippled in an accident, her mother realizes she'll be seen as a useless mouth to King Nestor. She takes the girl to be apprenticed to Pythia, an oracle and priestess of Persephone, the Lady of the Dead. In time Gull succeeds to the role of Pythia herself, and it seems that she will spend the rest of her life prophesying from her remote cave. Fate, however, has other plans.

Aeneas and his ragged band of refugees from Troy arrive to raid Nestor's palace, and Gull's life is forever changed. (Oh, I should explain that Jo Graham posits two separate Trojan Wars in this tale. Gull's mother was abducted in the first; Aeneas fled the city in the second.) The novel follows Aeneas, Gull, and Aeneas's courageous and sexy captain, Xandros, as they search for a place to call home.

To me, one of the major themes of Black Ships is being human in a world that calls for larger-than-life gods and heroes. You see it with Gull, who operates within a strict set of rules as a priestess, and then throughout the story breaks most of them when the will of the Goddess or the needs of her people demand flexibility. You see it with Neas, whose father is constantly exhorting him to act in a more regal fashion. One of my favorite bits is when Gull is examining the cave near Vesuvius that she will use for the ritual of descent into the underworld, musing about how much work it will take to prepare it — and yet, though she works hard to ready the cave, when the ritual occurs it is governed by forces beyond her human control. I liked the contrast between the human and divine here.

The other major theme is love, and how these three flawed and scarred people find it with each other. I love that you can't clearly say "this character is gay, that one is straight." What it really comes down to is that these three people have a bond that transcends all categories. They're just... well, when reading this book I just can't imagine any of them without the other two.

Black Ships is a beautiful book, and I loved every minute of it. I just wish it had been longer.

(And, y'know, I really ought to go read The Aeneid. I never did read the whole thing, though I was supposed to for class once, and Jo Graham has made me more intrigued by it.)
—Kelly Lasiter

Black Ships

After hearing so many of my fellow FanLit reviewers sing the praises of Jo Graham’s debut novel Black Ships, and getting similarly glowing reviews from my sister, I borrowed her copy and settled down to see what all the fuss was about. I don’t have anything new to say about the plot that hasn’t been summarized in the other reviews, so instead I’ll focus on my reaction to this novel.

I have to say: this book was not oversold. The story lived and breathed, bringing the last days of the Age of Bronze into full vibrant detail. Graham has a real gift for writing descriptive prose. She manages to bring Greece and Egypt to life again. I could smell the sea salt, and feel the warmth of the Mediterranean sun baking into my bones. Graham did copious amounts of research for this book, and it shows because the cultures feel right down to the detail level. It was jarring to me when I realized how young the main character, Gull, is through most of the story, but the hefty responsibilities she shouldered would have been realistic for the society in which she lived.

I got Black Ships from my sister right before I started getting a steady stream of ARCs in the mail. I would end up reading a few pages in between the other ARCs. Unlike most books that you read in bits and pieces, I never had to go back and reread a section to catch up. Black Ships is so memorable that returning to it was like stepping back into another world and having it pick up right where you left off.

I can highly recommend Black Ships, and am looking forward to the other books following the stories of Gull through other lifetimes. Probably even more importantly, I am going to pick up a copy of the Aeneid and read the classic poem that Graham used as inspiration, something my history professor never managed to get me to do. —Ruth Arnell

Black Ships

My first experience with Jo Graham's work was a bit mixed — to put it mildly. Yet still, I found myself with a strange hankering to read Black Ships. No, really, "hankering," that is well and truly the only word I can come up with to accurately describe it. It probably helps some that Graham's work is more historical than fantasy, which is really refreshing right now, as I can't get my hands on much other than fantasy. Not until I learn way more Swedish, at least.

I was encouraged by the fact that Black Ships is fairly shorter than Hand of Isis, and indeed that worked to its favor. While it's still rich in history and myth, it's not bogged down by it, allowing for a pleasant, easy read. Black Ships balances adventure and action with intrigue, and it's done well enough to create exciting moments in both. It does, admittedly, take a little persistence on the part of the reader to get there. The book starts off rocky and choppy, with a lot of fairly short scenes that didn't fully make sense to me. A couple of places I went back and reread, but was still left scratching my head: I know that the prince and most of the fighting men had left Pylos on a raid, but was there really no one with the power or, heck, wits to stop Gull when she allowed her people into the palace and set a bunch of slaves free? It just didn't quite come together.

The characters took some getting used to, particularly Gull, but they prove to be interesting and sympathetic. It's hard to find much to say about the plot — not because it's bad, it's just very simple and straightforward. So it's not like I can go on about amazing twists and surprises or sudden shocking downturns. Actually, maybe that's not such a bad thing. Black Ships isn't an extremely complex book in terms of plot but that's really a large part of its charm; you can just read it and enjoy it without chasing your own tail over plot threads.

There are some prose flaws that rear their heads. One example is that there are places where Gull will narrate something and then someone will state, in a fairly random-feeling line of dialog, pretty much the exact same thing right after. For example:

We did not know where we were. In a day and a half with the storm at our backs we could have been blown far. Also, none of the ships had adequate water.
"Our casks are fouled with seawater," Xandros said. "We have three or four water skins, and the amphorae of wine, but that's it." (p.84)

It's unnecessary for both of these lines to be there. The latter makes the former extremely obvious. Those are words that could have been better spent, say, fleshing out some of the more choppy bits at the beginning.

Also, Graham seems to really have a major thing for the type of beginning that goes roughly "My mother was so-and-so and I was born such-and-such," etc. Both of her books so far start with the exact same structure and I'd very much like to see a change from that in the next one.

Like Hand of Isis, Black Ships shows off a strong historical writer with talent and a willingness to work. For me, Black Ships worked the better of the two, ultimately doing more justice to Jo Graham's strengths. —Beth Johnson

Hand of Isis — (2009) Publisher: Once, in a palace by the sea, there were three sisters born in the same year. The eldest was born in the season of planting, when the waters of the Nile had receded once more and the land lay rich and fertile, warm and muddy and waiting for the sun to quicken everything to life. She was born in one of the small rooms behind the Court of Birds, and her mother was a serving woman who cooked and cleaned, but who one day had caught Ptolemy Auletes' eye. Her skin was honey, her eyes dark as the rich floodwaters. Her name was Iras. The second sister was born under the clear stars of winter, while the land greened and grain ripened in the fields, when fig and peach trees nodded laden in the starry night. She was born in a great bedchamber with wide windows open to the sea, and five Greek physicians in attendance, for she was the daughter of Ptolemy Auletes' queen, and her name was Cleopatra. The youngest sister was born as the earth died, as the stubble of the harvest withered in the fields beneath the scorching sun. She was born beside the fountain in the Court of Birds, because her mother was a blond slave girl from Thrace, and that was where her pains took her. Water fell from the sky and misted her upturned face. Her hair was the color of tarnished bronze, and her eyes were blue as the endless Egyptian sky. Her name was Charmian. Once, in a palace by the sea, there were three sisters. All the stories begin so.

Hand of Isis: Behind every great woman...

I loved Black Ships, and I didn't know if Jo Graham could top it. The answer, I am happy to report, is a great big YES!

Hand of Isis continues the story of some of the characters from Black Ships who have now been reincarnated as players in the Egyptian-Roman power struggle. You don't need to read Black Ships first, but you'll probably get more out of Hand of Isis if you do. The story is told from the point of view of Cleopatra's "personal assistant," Charmian, who is Gull reincarnated. As the novel opens, she stands before the Egyptian deities in the afterlife and tells her tale.

The story begins with three little girls — half-sisters (in this novel Cleopatra's handmaidens Charmian and Iras are illegitimate daughters of Pharaoh) who become inseparable friends. As teenagers, they make a pact with the goddess Isis, vowing that if she will place Cleopatra on the throne, the three women will act as her hands in the world and do their best to make Egypt a better place. Later, when Cleopatra does become queen, Iras and Charmian are her closest confidantes and most valued advisors. We then follow Charmian as she helps facilitate her sister's legendary reign and has some adventures and loves of her own along the way.

The city of Alexandria is almost another character in its own right. Graham paints a vivid picture of Alexandria, from its brilliant scholars to its take-out food. It's a cosmopolitan melting pot where people have more freedom than they do in many other places in the ancient world. We can see exactly why it's worth fighting for.

I know I'm reading a good book when I know the story ends tragically but still can't tear my eyes away. There's sadness here, certainly, but Hand of Isis also has its moments of joy, romance, friendship, and humor. It seemed to me that the overall mood was more upbeat than that of Black Ships, despite the eventual fates of the characters, and I think the humor is one of the major reasons. I laughed my head off at the scene where Caesarion finally meets his father and says... well, you'll have to read the book to find out what he says, but it's hilarious and so true to what a little boy might say at that moment. Jo Graham is also great at weaving mythology into her tale, showing the ways the characters' lives echo and are shaped by divine archetypes. But, Graham keeps her characters perfectly human even when the world wants them to be larger than life. This makes both the triumphs and tragedies more real to the reader. The ending had me blubbering.

The pace is surprisingly fast. (I say "surprisingly" because historical novels often move slowly.) If there's anything I'd change about Hand of Isis, I'd just want there to be more of it! I could read another few hundred pages of this. In particular, I'd have loved to see more of Iras. She's wonderful when she's "onscreen," and the logistics of Cleopatra's schedule result in Iras not being as prominent in the middle of the novel as she is at the beginning and the end. Cleopatra often travels and takes Charmian with her and leaves Iras behind to take care of things at home, or vice versa. Since Charmian is the POV character, this means Iras is often absent. I loved her character and would be thrilled to get inside her head.

Hand of Isis is enthusiastically recommended. —Kelly Lasiter

Hand of Isis

I gave Hand of Isis a three star rating mostly because that's how we do things here, and that's the best I could figure out. Really, Hand of Isis was one of those "I hate this so much I love it" sort of experiences (which I've actually never had before).

There were some things about Hand of Isis that I genuinely loved. For one thing, Jo Graham accomplished the nigh impossible task of making this particular period of ancient Egyptian history (i.e late-Hellenistic, early Roman) interesting to me. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but few things make a period of history more boring to me than when the Romans come in. (Actually, I could speculate a few reasonable assumptions as to why that is, but then this would just never end.) Graham even makes the story of Cleopatra, a historical figure I grew bored of long ago, intriguing for me.

I also have a lot of love for her portrayal of Ceasar. Media has long had the habit of painting Ceasar unfavorably to make him the perfect two-dimensional villain; Graham's portrayal rings closer to the likely reality. While her prose won't have you weeping at its beauty, it's simple and efficient, and far from the flowery (even florid) technique too commonly used in this sort of book. I'd say it's easy, even pleasant to read. When it comes down to it, I have no issues with Jo Graham's characterization, prose, or historical recreation; it's her storytelling style that I knock horns with.

To begin with, through the entire book I felt like characters, conversations, entire scenes even, were merely vessels for Graham to tell the reader what they're supposed to perceive and feel about the events and goings-on. For example, when the three girls — Charmian (the narrator), Cleopatra, and Iras — encounter Isis and choose to become her "hands" on earth, each girl sees a different aspect of the goddess and after Isis leaves, they have a discussion in which they, merely fourteen at the time, correctly identify each facet they've seen and exactly how it relates to them and what they want in life. Even though the reader hasn't been privy to very much of what they want in life, and even though these deductions touch upon philosophy, psychology, and self-awareness on a level nearly impossible for 40-year-olds, let alone 14-year olds.

The scenes in Amenti are double offenders, since right from the first page they tell the reader that the narrator is already dead, and proceed to inform the reader of coming disasters and missteps before they happen, effectively sweeping away the book's tension and anticipation. What's more, as Charmian laments all her mistakes and explains, with the help of various gods, exactly what they were and when they occurred, I simply can't shake the feeling that I'm being told what to interpret, rather than being allowed to figure it out for myself.

Jo Graham did a lot of research for Hand of Isis and I know this mostly because she's gone out of her way to make sure I do. Characters, conversations, and scenes sometimes appear to serve no other purpose than to show off just how much research she did. Granted, that she did that research is very pleasing to me as a reader. That I, too, must sit through all of it... not so much. For example, there's a fairly detailed retelling of the Exodus that seems to relate to the book in no other way than that one of the characters is Jewish. Perhaps if these details had been woven into the story better, I wouldn't have even noticed them, but the way Hand of Isis was written makes them simply a lot of extraneous bits that just make the book longer.

Finally, while I find the idea of stories revolving around a set of characters consistently being reincarnated intriguing, I also find it irksome. I think mostly this is because the story gives a strong impression of "Only special people are ever reincarnated further down the line as special people," making it seem as though everyone else is simply destined, by virtue of the soul they bear, to never do anything marvelous or world-shaking, ever. Um, gee, thanks? I doubt this was Jo Graham's intent, but the feeling is present in force nonetheless.

Suffice it to say, I had a lot of feelings about Hand of Isis, both good and bad. Still, despite my frustrations with it, I'm curious to see what else Jo Graham comes up with. Her work ethic is impressive and her potential shines through. I would not, however, recommend Hand of Isis to the more casual reader unless they're prepared to come with a lot of patience.
—Beth Johnson

Hand of Isis

A history of Cleopatra, as told by one of her handmaidens, Charmian, Hand of Isis is the second book in a loosely grouped series of stories by Jo Graham in which the characters are reincarnated from book to book. Having loved Black Ships, I had high hopes for Hand of Isis, but unfortunately those hopes were not completely fulfilled.

I’m not sure what it says about a book that my favorite character was the city they lived in, but the setting of Alexandria lives with a vibrancy that is missing from the other characters. That is my first big quibble with this book: none of the main characters are particularly interesting. It is the minor characters who I found intriguing, who kept getting caught up in the wake of the major characters moving about doing important things. Historically, Cleopatra and Julius Caesar were supposed to be incredibly charismatic leaders, beloved and hated by all who knew them, but that power doesn’t appear here except in small doses. I didn’t care when Caesar was killed, or when Cleopatra and her women commit suicide.

I think the second problem I had with Hand of Isis also explains the lack of emotional connection that I had to the characters: I know how the story ends. I kept waiting for Graham to do something different or interesting with the characters, but the story marched along to its foretold conclusion without deviation or despair. Having the story told as a series of flashbacks I think adds to the sense of inevitability that pervades the story.

Having gotten that out of the way, there is a satisfying story to be told here. Just as Black Ships made me want to read the Aeneid, this story made me want to learn more about Alexandria. There are many characters here who are playing out roles which they started in Black Ships, and it is interesting watching those relationships form and reform across time — though I hope Graham puts an identity chart in the next book so I can keep all of the characters straight across three books. I can’t wholeheartedly recommend Hand of Isis, but if you are interested in Cleopatra, historical fiction, or the Hellenic Greek world, this book will be a satisfying read. —Ruth Arnell

Stealing Fire — (2010) Publisher: Alexander the Great's soldier, Lydias of Miletus, has survived the final campaigns of the king's life. He now has to deal with the chaos surrounding his death. Lydias throws his lot in with Ptolemy, one of Alexander's generals who has grabbed Egypt as his personal territory. Aided by the eunuch Bagoas, the Persian archer Artashir, and the Athenian courtesan Thais, Ptolemy and Lydias must take on all the contenders in a desperate adventure whose prize is the fate of a white city by the sea, and Alexander's legacy.

Stealing Fire

Ever had a meal that was absolutely exquisite, but the portion was so small that your stomach was still rumbling afterward? My experience with Stealing Fire was much like that.

Jo Graham’s Numinous World series is best described as “historical fantasy” and revolves around a core group of characters who are reincarnated at various points in history. The protagonist of Stealing Fire, Lydias of Miletus, lived previously as Gull in Black Ships, and will later live as Charmian in Hand of Isis.

Alexander the Great has died, and his empire has fallen into chaos as his nobles fight amongst themselves for power. Lydias, a soldier who feels emotionally adrift after losing everyone he loved, chooses to accompany Ptolemy to Egypt. Trouble follows Lydias, both in the form of political/military danger from Alexander’s other generals and in the form of restless spirits. Alexander had been crowned as Pharaoh, and the spirits of Egypt will only be appeased when Alexander is given the proper funeral rites and a new Pharaoh enthroned. This isn’t as easy as it sounds. Alexander’s body lies in the hands of Ptolemy’s enemy, and besides, Ptolemy doesn’t want to be king, wishing only to hold the throne in the name of Alexander’s infant son.

Interspersed with this plotline, told in flashbacks, is the story of how Lydias rose from slavery to his current position. The scenes narrating Lydias’ adolescence are some of the most moving in the novel. You can’t help but love this gutsy, idealistic young man.

Graham’s work is, as always, meticulously researched and beautifully written. She immerses the reader in the place and time: the often-foreign-to-us attitudes, the smell of the food, and most of all, the sense of upheaval. We have the benefit of hindsight and know how things turned out, but Graham shows us just how uncertain the situation was at the time. It must have felt like the end of the world.

Stealing Fire is a compelling yarn, a love letter to Egypt, and a meditation on how best to govern a diverse realm. (And how not to govern one.) Graham’s political background shines through as the characters discuss what makes a great leader. Her gift for humor is in evidence, too:

He looked at me and his eyes twinkled. “Besides, is politics so different than dealing with horses?”
I laughed. “I suppose not,” I said. “Only we cannot geld for bad temper!”
“I’m considering it,” Ptolemy said.

Yet, as I said above, I was left hungry for more. As in Hand of Isis, I felt there was a lot of story that hadn’t made it into the book. In Hand of Isis, I craved more scenes of Iras; in Stealing Fire, what seemed too brief were the relationships and the fantasy elements. Lydias has several partners over the course of the book, and some of these relationships could have benefited from more page time. As for the fantasy elements, we only get a few scenes showing the destruction wrought by the restless spirits. For various reasons, it takes several years for Lydias and Ptolemy to implement their solution, yet we don’t get a sense of mounting danger as time passes (from the spirits, anyway; there’s plenty from Ptolemy’s rivals). True, Lydias spends much of this time away on campaign, but a few more scenes before his departure and after his return might have made his mission seem more pressing.

In fantasy, there are lots of great short-story ideas that get stretched into long novels, great novel ideas that become bloated trilogies, and great trilogy ideas that become long, plodding series. With that in mind, maybe I shouldn’t complain that Stealing Fire feels like an 800-page book compressed into 300 pages. After all, Jo Graham left me wanting more, and there’s something to be said for that. I’d gladly read the 800-page version, though! —Kelly Lasiter