I generally start a novel with apprehension. Will it reward the time and effort I am expending on it? Will the things to like about it outweigh the imperfections? Will the ending disappoint?

And there is nearly always a moment, if  the magic works, when the novel achieves escape velocity and I know I am going to like it more than I fault it (even if the ending disappoints,  a separate problem). I don’t always notice when that moment comes, but in the case of “Tides of War” I did.  It was on Page 117, when Goya appears as a character, painting Wellington’s portrait and thinking his own thoughts. Continue reading →