City of Cannibals (review)

All of Dell's memories revolve around her home on the mountain, where the sixteen-year-old lives in isolation with her father, brother, and aunt. Supplies are brought to them regularly by the mysterious Brown Boy, whom Dell has glimpsed but never been allowed to meet, and her father has filled her head with dire tales of the city at the foot of the mountain, where people feed on each other's flesh and blood. When her father's abuses drive her to drastic action, she flees to that city—London—with a vague notion of tracking down the Brown Boy and establishing herself as a puppeteer. As she tentatively navigates the crowding and filth of sixteenth-century London, she begins to recapture half-forgotten memories of her mother, and the melodrama really takes off. Her mother caught the eye of Henry VIII, from whose lecherous attentions she was rescued by a dwarf; her rescuer launched her puppeteering career, until she was murdered at the king's orders. The Brown Boy is an attractive young man on the brink of taking vows as a Benedictine monk, an unfortunate career path in light of both Dell's infatuation and Henry VIII's Catholic persecution. Will true love prevail? Duh, of course it will, but not until the players have cleared the political and religious hurdles that Thompson so extravagantly strews in their way. Even diehard romantics may sense that the dwarf subplot is over the edge and played for effect, but the maiden in danger, lusting after the almost-sworn-to-God Adonis in peril, is the sort of swoonworthy storyline that hits the mark. Readers will come away with a smattering of sidebar information on the dissolution of the monasteries, but it's Love that carries the day.