Beneath A Thousand Skies

Summary:

Miss Mildred Percy inherits a dragon.

Ah, but we’ve already got ahead of ourselves…

Miss Mildred Percy is a spinster. She does not dance, she has long stopped dreaming, and she certainly does not have adventures. That is, until her great uncle has the audacity to leave her an inheritance, one that includes a dragon’s egg.

The egg – as eggs are wont to do – decides to hatch, and Miss Mildred Percy is suddenly thrust out of the role of “spinster and general wallflower” and into the unprecedented position of “spinster and keeper of dragons.”

But England has not seen a dragon since… well, ever. And now Mildred must contend with raising a dragon (that should not exist), kindling a romance (with a humble vicar), and embarking on an adventure she never thought could be hers for the taking.

This book has been on my TBR forever. I’ve seen it spoken of in glowing terms, been recommended it many times and yet I hesitated – not through any doubt that I would enjoy Olson’s writing (one of her short stories – – lives rent free in my head), or  any lack of temptation. I mean it has a dragon on the front. A dragon in the title. And I am nothing if not vulnerable to the scaled critters. My hesitation came from the ‘cozy’. I am in general not a cozy reader – my comfort reads are harrowing, emotionally devasting books and that is the way I lean, and I have bounced off many cozy books. But then I was struck with the need to read to read something with dragons, something I hadn’t read before – and what came up first – Miss Percy, so I went what the hell, let’s go…

And I am a bloody idiot.

I SHOULD have read this book, weeks, months – years ago. Because it was love at first epigraph (I’m a sucker for epigraphs – particularly where it drops nuggets of information or just helps build up the world), and right from the beginning this book was so wonderfully, unapologetically itself.

‘She understood the mechanics behind it—the man rising so that he might be at the ready to aid her with whatever she should wish—but it always made her think the men in question were contemplating running away at the sight of a new female encroaching upon their space.’

Honestly. If I hadn’t already been in love with this book, then this line would have sealed the deal for me. One, it gave me the most glorious mental image of regency men just turning and bolting as women enter the room – the ball at Netherfield Hall would have been a very different affair; and two, it left me chuckling aloud and unable to read on for a few minutes. It’s also a perfect example, of how this book takes its regency setting and all the social niceties and nettles and nonsense, and deliberately takes a step to the side, to comment, to tease and poke fun, and to explore the ups and downs of a life in that world…especially one sprinkles on a little bit of fantasy (and more than a little mayhem).

I will say that I could see how the writing style and voice might not be everyone’s cup of tea – but it is a quintessential part of the charm of the book. The asides, both mundane, fantastical and everything in between were a delight, like the little sweets of a high tea – and for me at least, it slipped me right into the mindset of the book and of our main character. Because we’ve all had those thoughts, those little side comments that we have in the privacy of our mind (usually while questioning the sanity of those in front of us or trying not to curse out loud); and the way Olson does it with an infectious sense of humour is just the icing on the cake. (There might be quite a few cake related analogies and whatnot in this review… this book made me hungry, and very jealous of those who got to enjoy Mrs. Babbinton’s food).

It was undoubtedly the tone and humour that reeled me into this book.

But it was the character’s that sat me down for a cup of tea and a slice of cake and pulled me into their story and we must start with Mildred.

Mildred Percy.

I have no words to describe how much I love Mildred as a character. It feels like there is often a never-ending discussion of ‘strong female characters’ both positive and negative, and very much a feel that she needs to be this catalyst for change, no matter how far off her own path it takes her. Olson has laughed at that very notion, and in doing so has created one of the most wonderfully, powerfully strong character’s – not because she is filled with brimstone or spite, or has an armoured heart, or the ability to twist men around her little finger – but because she is a cake that is taking a little longer to bake to perfection (did I mention there was a lot of cake analogies in this review), or a butterfly waiting to emerge…or a dragon waiting to hatch when the time was right.

Mildred had a powerful character growth, because it was mundane – not in how it happened, because no one could ever claim that a dragon hatching and fantasy and magic bursting into one’s life was mundane – but because there was no startling burst of transition, no veering sharply onto a different railway track, no profound realisation. Instead, it was little subtle, gentle moments of introspection – with the humour that permeates the book, tempered by that feeling of being caught in the ebb and flow of life. It is so easy to get caught in how life it, particularly when stepping off the beaten path carries some form of risk – which for Mildred at her age, and with the path her life has taken – does, and I’m sure I’m not alone as a reader of having had those moments of eyeing a change or a choice, and wondering whether it’s worth breaking the status quo or the comfort of the familiar, and we see that play out beautifully with Mildred. She has a ‘comfortable’ life if you ignore her browbeating sister and the feeling of being a convenient inconvenience, and that would be hard enough to shake off, without the wider context of the regency setting, and the limits or propriety and wealth and opportunity.

So, when Mildred puts her foot down and says No. When she takes that step off the beaten path. It is a seemingly small moment, but for this character in this context, it is the rumble of the earth trembling and pressure giving after a long time. There had been moments where we had been offered glimpses of this moment to come, watching Mildred blossoming within the constraints of her position. Yet, when the pivotal moment came, I was on the edge of my seat rooting for her, because you could absolutely understand why she might not take that step, but you wanted her to. And that beautiful, understated moment was for me, as powerful and triumphant as any victory in an epic fantasy, and all because Olson had well and truly pulled us into Mildred’s position, her life, and feelings and made us care.

Mildred is not the only character to shine though, and Olson has a deft hand for making her entire cast memorable – even those that are…unpleasant. Two who I absolutely have to highlight are Mrs. Babbinton, who feels like a warm hug in human form (although I absolutely would not want to anger her – I just have visions that end in a nasty meeting with a rolling pin); and is one of the few characters who seems to look at Mildred and see beyond the veil of circumstance and treat her as herself. That she can handle a baby dragon with aplomb, as well as children and a hapless (at least around the house) vicar all with good humour – which really is a superpower.

And of course, I can’t not talk about Mr. Wiggan. In some ways, he was a perfect mirror to Mildred – caught in a comfortable life with Mrs. Babbington keeping his house (and him) in order, a role to play in the village (or town depending on the week), but the differences here reflect the expectations of men and women in this period. He is comfortable, with the only real shackles being the expectations of his profession. For him to divert his time to curiosities, or to set off on a journey would only be subject to normal gossip rather than social censure. Yet, like Mildred, we see him being pushed out of his comfort zone by the arrival of an egg and a dragon. With the push against his faith, and the idea of people thinking him mad if he reached out about a dragon; and as with Mildred, his stepping forward and pushing the boundaries are understated.

‘It wouldn’t do for the decidedly unmarried town vicar and a decidedly unmarried woman of about the same age to have their heads bent together in the same room for hours on end with the door shut tight and no one to know if they were simply cataloguing an old man’s collection of artifacts or if something more scandalous were transpiring between them.’

The romance element is wonderful and understated, befitting the period, but also the characters. Olson doesn’t rush the relationship, letting the buildup flow naturally, with all the stumbling blocks that come from two quiet characters, meek and bound in their own way. We get to see the little sparks, the kindred souls that blossom through shared discoveries and interests, over cups of tea and delicious cake…and over the care and worries for a baby dragon. They complemented one another so beautifully; and what I really loved was that when their moment came, as with their individual tipping point moments it was powerful in its understatement and again it didn’t present a radical shift in the characters or the plot. It was a natural curve in the river of their story.

Moving to the villains briefly – which makes it sound like they were out there lurking in the dark, which is very much not the case. Avarice. Social Standing. Wealth. Scheming. The villains of this piece were not larger than life, and some were much closer to home that any of us would like.

For example, I would very much consider Mildred’s sister Diana a villain in this – not that she acted directly against Mildred as some others did, but because she was one of the chains holding Mildred in place. What I did like about Diana is that through her Olson managed to personify so much of the regency life – the focus on social standing and wealth, the desire for advantageous marriages – while also capturing that awkward, sharp-edged relationship between siblings where life and circumstance has eroded what affection existed. It was almost visceral, and I could feel myself flinch in sympathy for Mildred when she encountered her sister’s tongue and aspirations. Whereas Belinda (Oh that girl I wanted to give a good shake too) bridged that gap, an echo of her mother, but willing to act against Mildred. But yet again, is she a true villain? She was sly and cunning, and just gave me an itch on the back of my neck from the start, but her descent began under the influence of someone else. Would she have been a villain without that influence?

Even Mr Hawthorne who is very much the villain of this piece, had reasons…maybe not entirely reasonable ones, but reasons. In him, Olson created a character who was understandable in many ways, and even when he lied and manipulated others, you could almost sympathize with him. (He did lose my sympathy after the window incident). What I particularly liked about his story and Belinda’s since they become intertwined, is how it contrasts with Mildred and Mr. Wiggan’s path; Belinda and Hawthorne push and pull, and step onto a different path with force. They break the rules. They leave hurt and worry in their wake, and they end up not necessarily in a worse situation, but on the backfoot.

And of course, we cannot ignore the star of the show.

Fitz. Fitz the dragon.

Firstly, please can we have more dragons with names like this? It just made me smile from the moment he was christened as such. Also, just more dragons like this – Fitz felt like a wonderful combination of our traditional idea of dragons, mixed with a dash off Toothless and a sprinkle of feline mischief (I say, writing this as my cat pins a puppy to the floor…thankfully without claws and fire); and I love that Olson nails the attitude and behaviour of a youngling moving from needing everything done to him, to the toddler exploring and causing havoc because of having no sense of ‘no’. I love everything about Fitz. And what I adore, and what really set this book apart from me – is the care for him – everything that flows from that egg hatching, is all centred around Fitz and his wellbeing; this isn’t about a mythical creature with the power to change the world (unless you want him for money….glares at Hawthorne), or about scientific advancement, it’s about a young creature needing love and safety, and that is just beautiful.

Are there world-ending stakes here? Absolutely not, but there are stakes and Olson through her writing and characterisation, and a wonderful talent for investing her readers in the minutia of the character’s lives and relationships, until we are so personally invested that their stakes are ours. It was there in how I held my breath and willed Mildred to say ‘No’, it was how I felt relief when we heard about Belinda after she’d disappeared (even though I still want to shake her), it was in the happy dance at the kiss. I was utterly invested in every development in this book. There’s also a feeling that this book is reaching out and reminding the characters – and through them us- that the children that dream of dragons, that go on adventures, are still there within us no matter how many chains life has wrapped around us – and that there is magic in embracing that child.

“You never said. Do you believe dragons exist?”

“Yes,” she said. Such a small word, and yet bearing all of her courage on it. “Yes, I rather think they do.”

Miss Percy’s Guide (to the Care and Feeding of British Dragons) was a book that I absolutely needed in my life, to the point where I immediately picked up the second book and promptly ordered physical copies of both, and where I know that the moment I have the third book in my hands, everything else will cease to exist. It’s also proof that no matter how much you might think a genre isn’t for you, there will always be those gems that will prove you wrong. This is one of those gems – only it didn’t need a geode, just an egg, a dragon and Mildred Percy and one of the most charming and outright amusing authorial voices I’ve read in a while.