Reviewed by Ambrea
1819: Owen Wedgwood, famed as the “Caesar of
Sauces,” has found himself kidnapped by a strange and ruthless pirate captain
known as Mad Hannah Mabbot and named chef aboard the Flying Rose. Now trapped on Mabbot’s ship, Wedgwood learns
he must cook a satisfactory meal for her each Sunday if he hopes to survive on
the open seas. But, as he spends more
time aboard the Flying Rose, Wedgwood discovers there is a method to
Mabbot’s madness—and he’ll discover companionship in the most unlikely places.
Cinnamon and Gunpowder by Eli Brown is a strangely compelling novel, yet
I’m still not sure what to think. It’s a
long, winding odyssey that takes our narrator, Owen Wedgwood, to the edge of
the empire and nearly drags him to the depths of the sea. Like Odysseus, Wedgwood—or Wedge, as Mabbot
affectionately calls him—takes a journey that leads him across oceans and into
the dens of monsters. You can almost
think of Mabbot as Calypso, a cross between a wicked temptress and a pirate
queen.
Alluring and wild, Mabbot is as
dangerous and capricious as the sea.
She’s just as liable to like you as shoot you, and yet she has a strange
moral compass that leads her to punish slavers, opium peddlers, murderers and
anyone who crosses her. She is, as
Wedgwood accuses, a red-haired tyrant, but she’s not unduly cruel or
intentionally malicious. She’s a strange
amalgamation of opposites, which makes her oddly likable.
Like Wedgwood, I didn’t know
what to make of her. I mean, is she a
villain or is she a hero? Neither, I
suppose. She’s just a woman who has been
tempered by the sea and shaped by the unkindness, barbarity, she’s
endured. She’s human and she’s
desperately flawed, which makes her compelling—and, truthfully, a bit hard to
stomach.
Piracy is an occupation that’s
neither gentle nor gentlemanly. It can
be senselessly cruel and completely tragic, which reflects in Brown’s novel;
moreover, it’s also an occupation in which readers will not find a hero. In Cinnamon and Gunpowder, it’s
impossible to look upon the world with only one version of right and
wrong. There is no black and white,
merely the anticipation of survival. You
won’t find anything heroic about Mabbot, despite our fondest expectations set
by Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean.
Altogether, Cinnamon and
Gunpowder is an intriguing if unusual novel. It’s an adventure story, but it’s quite
unlike what I’ve read in the past, especially regarding pirates. Sure, I’ve had a taste with Pirates!
by Celia Rees, as well as the Wave Walkers series by Kai Meyer and Vampirates
by Justin Somper. But those are so mild
in comparison to Eli Brown’s novel, which is weighed down by tragedy and
riddled with the cruel truths of reality.
It belongs in a class of its
own, truly.
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