When Llewelyn Moss sets out one day to hunt antelope, he has no idea of the chain of events he is about to set into motion. Moss comes across several bullet-riddled vehicles, in and around which are a number of bullet-riddled bodies. He is able to resist the heroin he discovers in one of the vehicles but not the satchel containing two and a half million dollars. Soon Moss is on the run, pursued by opposing groups who are searching for both the money and the drugs. Also on his trail is Sheriff Bell, who wants to save Moss’s life. As the story unfolds, Bell comes to believe that he is too old to cope with evil on the grand scale on which it occurs in the 21st century.
Did you see the movie based on McCarthy’s book? I didn’t. But, as I was listening to No Country for Old Men, I found myself thinking that the movie must be extremely violent. The book certainly is. McCarthy describes shoot-outs and killings in brutal detail -- except for the two that are most crucial to the plot. Each section of the book begins with a monologue from Bell, some of which I found hard to follow. In fact, toward the end of the book, as Bell becomes more and more introspective, I became increasingly confused. No Country for Old Men tells two stories, neither of which is clearly resolved.
Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea, by Chelsea Handler
Handler’s memoir begins when she is nine years old and trying to fit in with her classmates. She accomplishes this goal by telling lies about her life. By the time she’s twelve, Handler has plans for her immediate future which range from attending sleep-away camp to participating in a European teen tour (neither of which takes place). In later years she becomes a best-selling author (My Horizontal Life), a stand-up comic, and an actress -- although her memoir glosses over these accomplishments. Instead Handler focuses on her dysfunctional family, her dysfunctional girlfriends, her dysfunctional boyfriends, and her dysfunctional lifestyle.
I’m sure there are some readers who would find (indeed, have found) Handler’s memoir to be humorous. I thought it was tasteless, smutty, and just plain sad. It was also poorly written. And could someone explain why this book spent so many months on a number of bestseller lists? The only reason I can come up with is that compared to Handler’s life, ours seem pretty good!
Monk and the Dirty Cop, by Lee Goldberg
Before he solves the crime alluded to in the book’s title (which involves Captain Leland Stottlemayer), Monk has been let go by the police department (where he has been working as a consultant) and been hired by a private detective agency (where he proceeds to solve all of its cold cases).
For years I’ve been a big fan of the Monk television series. So I decided that it would be fun to listen to one of Monk’s adventures. It wasn’t. I remember seeing the spisode which the book records. But a television script and a book are very different. I didn’t enjoy the detail of the book, and I didn’t like the fact that Natalie (Monk’s assistant) told the story. Some of the things that Monk said and did seemed almost mean, and his endearing quirkiness was ratchetted up to serious weirdness. I suppose that people who’ve never seen the television show might enjoy the Monk books, but (much as I hate to say it) this is one time I’ll stick with the “boob tube.”
The House at Riverton, by Kate Morton
When Grace Bradley is fourteen years old, she follows in her mother’s footsteps and seeks employment at Riverton House. Soon Grace becomes fascinated with Lady Ashbury’s family, especially her three grandchildren: David, Hannah, and Emmeline. She assists the family through the devastating years of World War One. When Hannah marries, Grace moves with her to London and,
eventually, back to Riverton. There, in 1924, tragedy strikes, and for the first time in her life Grace is on her own.
As she approaches her one hundredth birthday, Grace lies in a nursing home. She receives a letter from a woman who is making a movie about Riverton. Reluctant to relive the past, Grace initially wants nothing to do with the woman or the movie. But she is unable to resist the lure of her memories. As she recalls her life, the book unfolds.
I enjoyed the basic plot of The House at Riverton. The hook of the movie was effective. But a number of the book’s features bothered me. Why was Grace sending tapes of her memories to her grandson Marcus? She was already recalling her past because of the movie. Marcus seemed superfluous. And how could Grace have known such intimate details of Hannah’s relationship
with Robbie Hunter? Hannah might have told her some things, but she would never have revealed so much. I’d have to give away two of the book’s surprises to reveal my other concerns. So I’ll just say that neither added to the plot and one seemed to be a contradiction (or at least an omission) to
something Grace had previously revealed about her past. The House at Riverton has a number of flaws. If you can overlook them, you may find it to be an enjoyable read.
Sleep toward Heaven, by Amanda Eyre Ward
Karen, Franny, and Celia are three lonely young women who seem to have nothing in common. Karen, who is a serial killer known as The Highway Honey, is on Death Row. As the day of her execution draws near, she wonders what will kill her -- the AIDS which is ravaging her body or the state’s punishment: lethal injection. Franny is a doctor. When her Uncle Jack (who raised her) has a heart attack, Franny reruns home to Texas. She is happy to run away from a fiancé she doesn’t really love and the pain and guilt she feels as a result of the death of a young cancer patient she had treated. Celia is a librarian. Her husband was killed five years previously. Celia can’t let go of her anger and sorrow. In Sleep toward Heaven the reader is drawn into the hearts of these women as they are drawn into each other’s lives.
I didn’t really find the climactic event of Sleep toward Heaven plausible. But I still enjoyed the book very much. Ward’s style is simple but effective. Her characters are real people with whom I easily identified and sympathized. Sleep toward Heaven is an impressive first novel.
Still Life, by Joy Fielding
After having lunch with her two best friends, Casey Marshall walks through a parking garage to retrieve her car. Casey is a lucky woman. She has beauty, immense wealth, a successful business, and a husband who loves her as much as she loves him. She also has an enemy who, traveling at 50 mph in a late-model silver Ford SUV, runs her down. Casey sustains horrific injuries. She appears to be in a deep coma. But almost from the start Casey can hear everything that’s going on around her. She hears one of her nurses talk about her plan to seduce Casey’s husband. She hears the police say that she was deliberately run down. Eventually, she hears a voice whisper in her ear, “’Why couldn’t you have just died when you were supposed to?’” Still unable to move, see, or speak, but aware that she’s in extreme danger, Casey tries to figure out how to stay alive.
When Fielding first began writing, I was a huge fan. I inhaled, among others of her novels, See Jane Run, The Deep End, and Kiss Mommy Goodbye. Eventually, Fielding’s books began to run together in my mind. I stopped reading them. Recently I saw Still Life on a shelf with the new books and decided to give it a try. I was happy to discover that Fielding can still come up with an interesting story line. I knew Casey would survive, but I was curious to find out how she’d do it. But many of the book’s events were corny and predictable. Much of the dialogue, and especially Casey’s internal
musings, just didn’t ring true. Still Life will provide a few hours of distraction but don’t expect it to prompt any kind of intellectual discussion.
The Portrait, by Iain Pears
In The Portrait, up-and-coming artist Henry McAlpine leaves London for life on a remote island off the coast of France. For four years he lives in primitive isolation, which comes to an end when famous critic (and former friend) William Naismith arrives to sit for his portrait.
Pears’s novel, which is blessedly short (5 CD’s), is told entirely from McAlpine’s point of view. He fills us in on the art world of the early 20th century and eventually moves on to more pertinent issues: Why he left London and why he lured Naismith to his home by the sea. The conclusion is open-ended, but Pears leaves little doubt as to Naismith’s fate.
The Portrait is another book that I listened to but probably wouldn’t have read. The one-sided narration was annoying. I wanted to shout, “Let Naismith speak!” Presumably Pears wrote entirely from McAlpine’s point of view as a way of building suspense. The technique didn’t really work.
Dismantled, by Jennifer McMahon
“To understand the nature of a thing, it must be taken apart.” On the face of it, the previous sentence makes a great deal of sense -- and is perfectly harmless. But Suz, Henry, Tess, and Olivia, who call themselves the Compassionate Dismantlers, interpret the words differently. They use them as a justification for violent, destructive behavior. Then Suz, the leader of the group, dies, and the Dismantlers are dismantled.
Years later Tess, Henry, and their eight-year-old daughter Emma are living on a farm in Vermont. Emma senses that her parents’ marriage is falling apart. She and her friend Mel begin poking around, looking for something they can use to bring Tess and Henry together again. They find old pictures of the Compassionate Dismantlers as well as Suz’s journal. Their actions set off a chain of events which results in disaster.
Dismantled is a chilling novel of psychological suspense. As a reader I was privy to information that the characters didn’t have, so I was able to watch their suspicions grow and shift. But even I didn’t know everything. In the end, some aspects of the story line were improbable, but overall McMahon’s book was gripping and frightening, especially as some of Emma’s issues were left unresolved. (As testimony to my identification with the book’s characters, I actually found myself wondering what would happen to Emma after the book ended.)
F. Y. I.: A few weeks ago I read McMahon’s first book, The Island of Lost Girls, and didn’t give it a very positive review. Dismantled shows huge professional growth on McMahon’s part.
Lost, by Michael Robotham
As Lost opens, Detective Inspector Victor Ruiz is being pulled from the waters of the Thames River. Eight days later he wakes up in Paddington Hospital with a gunshot wound in his leg, part of his left ring finger gone, and several weeks of memory missing. Ruiz is desperate to find out why he was shot. When he asks about the case he was working on when he was injured, he learns that he had been investigating the kidnapping of a young girl -- despite the fact that the crime had been committed three years earlier and that a man had been convicted of the abduction. Ruiz is determined to continue the investigation. With the help of psychologist Joe O’Loughlin and fellow police officer Ali Barba, he searches for both his missing past and a missing child who might still be alive.
In Robotham’s first novel, Suspect, to which I gave a very positive review a few weeks ago, O’Loughlin was suspected of murder by Ruiz. In Lost O’Loughlin helps Ruiz in his investigation. As I read, I wondered how the former adversaries had become friends. And I felt disappointed that Lost didn’t have the emotional impact of suspect. While the story line was interesting and featured the surprising twists and turns that made Suspect so intriguing, I didn’t really like Ruiz (perhaps because he played the part of O’Loughlin’s enemy in Suspect). Lost contained hard to follow information about sewer systems, and I sometimes found myself losing track of who the characters were. Lost is certainly not a bad book, but it didn’t quite fulfill the promise of Robotham’s debut novel.
In Roadside Crosses Kathryn Dance, a body language expert, is called on to catch a serial killer who announces his murders before he commits them by placing a handmade cross, a bouquet of red roses, and a cardboard circle
(inscribed with the date on which the murder will occur) near the scene of each upcoming crime. The chief suspect is a troubled teenager named Travis Brigham, who is vilified in a blog called The Chilton Report because of his involvement in an accident in which two classmates died. When Brigham disappears, the hunt is on for both him and his next victim(s). In a secondary plot, Dance’s mother is charged with the mercy killing of Juan Millar, a police officer who was badly burned in the previous Kathryn Dance mystery.
The plot of Roadside Crosses is incredibly convoluted. I’m aware of the saying “Truth is stranger than fiction,” but I doubt if such a complicated set of circumstances could ever occur in real life.
On a positive note, I learned a great deal about blogs and computer games, especially Dimension Quest. And Deaver delivered a very definite warning about the power of the Internet -- for doing both good and bad.
Even Money, by Dick and Felix Francis
Ned Talbot is a British bookie who learned his trade from his grandfather as the two traveled from racecourse to racecourse. Talbot thinks that his parents were killed in an accident when he was a year old. But on the
first day of the Royal Ascot races, a man approaches Talbot and says that he’s Talbot’s father. Dubious at first, Talbot quickly becomes convinced of the man’s identity. Unfortunately, as father and son leave the racecourse at
the end of the day, Talbot’s father is fatally stabbed. Talbot’s determination to find out where his father has been, why he returned and sought him out, and the origin of the odd assortment of items hidden in his father’s
rucksack, sends him on a wild ride. A secondary plot involves Talbot’s wife, who suffers from bi-polar disorder.
This is the third book written by long-time author Dick Francis and his son Felix. They’re a good team. Even Money contains a great deal of information about the world of bookmaking. Much of it went over my head, and I wasn’t interested enough in the in’s and out’s of betting to study the chart provided at the beginning of the book. But my limited knowledge didn’t prevent me from appreciating Even Money’s fast-paced, clever plot. I was disappointed by the book’s corny ending, but one can’t have everything!
Suspect, by Michael Robotham
Psychologist Joe O’Loughlin is a lucky man -- until fate taps him on the shoulder. First he’s diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. The next day the body of one of his former patients is found. Forensic evidence shows
that the woman actually killed herself. But the police and O’Loughlin believe that she was tortured until suicide became her only escape. O’Loughlin is the chief suspect in the woman’s death. The police don’t believe him
when he breaches client confidentiality and tries to convince them that Bobby Moran is the person they’re looking for. Estranged from his family, O’Loughlin sets out to prove that Moran is the evil, deviously clever person he
believes him to be.
Robotham’s novel is a masterpiece of psychological suspense. As O’Loughlin life spiraled out of control, I wanted to read the book’s last chapter and assure myself that everything would work out for him. But I was
listening to the audio book, which was brilliantly read by Simon Prebble, so I couldn’t cheat.
Like O’Loughlin, all of us at some point feel fate’s bony finger. When we do, we marvel that our lives could be turned upside down in the blink of an eye. We’re blissfully unaware of the moment when the cell divides
incorrectly or the desire for revenge fills another person’s heart.
The Girl Who Played with Fire is the second book in a trilogy starring Lisbeth Salander and Mikael Blomkvist. In it Larsson provides information about the plot and characters of the previous book. But both the plot and the characters are so unusual that many readers will find it helpful to have read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo before tackling The Girl Who Played with Fire.
The story line of The Girl Who Played with Fire is relatively simple. In fact, I was amazed that Blomkvist took so long to figure out who the badguy was. But Larsson adds layers of complication to every event. And, even though it sometimes seems as though not much is happening, the novel
maintains a high level of suspense.
Although I’ve found both of Larsson’s books to be exciting, I also consider them to be disturbing. They’re quite violent. And I don’t really like the characters, who seem to live in a world -- and act according to a set of values -- that is foreign and puzzling. Both books posed a question in
my mind: Does the end justify the means?
F. Y. I.: I had a print copy of The Girl Who Played with Fire to refer to as needed, but for the most part I listened to this book. Because the Swedish names of the many characters were unfamiliar, I sometimes had a hard time keeping track of who was who.
Best Friends Forever, by Jennifer Weiner
Best Friends Forever begins on the night of Addie Downs and Valerie Adler’s fifteenth high school reunion. Addie doesn’t attend. Valerie does, and she commits an act of revenge that results in her going to Addie (her former best friend) for help -- despite the fact that the girls haven’t been in
touch since they graduated.
How did Addie and Valerie become best friends? And what happens to the girls’ friendship? We find out in flashback chapters that begin in June, 1983, when the girls are nine years old and Valerie and her mother move into the house across the street from Addie’s family. The flashback chapters
move forward in time, ending with the girls’ senior year in high school.
At times Best Friends Forever is corny. And a number of events (all of which take place after the fateful reunion) struck me as unbelievable. But, if you ever went to high school or had a best friend, you’ll find something with which to identify in this book. It may also remind you to be gentle
with any high school students you know. Yes, we all make it through those four years, but they’re not easy!
The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox, by Maggie O’Farrell
Iris Lockhart has no idea that she has a great-aunt until she receives a phone call from an administrator at Cauldstone Hospital. The psychiatric hospital is closing. Therefore, all of the patients must be relocated. Iris has power of attorney over her great-aunt’s affairs. She has to decide
what will become of Esme, who has been institutionalized for more than sixty-one years.
O’Farrell reveals the increasingly horrifying events which led to Esme’s being institutionalized partly through Esme’s memories and partly through the disjointed recollections of Esme’s sister Kitty, who is in a nursing home and suffering from the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s disease. Interspersed with the segments of Esme’s story is that of Iris, whose life has been distorted by a troubled childhood.
The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox is a very powerful book. It’s also quite disturbing. When Iris reads the documents which explain why Esme was institutionalized, she finds such entries as “Insists on keeping her hair long” and “Parents report finding her dancing before a mirror, dressed in her
mother’s clothes.” (p. 59) It’s frightening to think that shutting a person away could ever have been so easy. But it couldn’t happen today -- could it?
O’Farrell’s style takes a bit of getting used to. Stick with her book. It’s worth the effort.
Supplementary Reading: For another book about a person who is unjustly
institutionalized, try Howard Nully’s My Lobotomy.
Clare and Russ meet when he investigates a newborn who is left on the church steps. It’s not exactly love at first sight, but there’s a definite attraction between the two. Unfortunately, Russ is married.
Against the backdrop of Clare and Russ’s growing attraction, Spencer-Fleming weaves an exciting tale in which the winter weather plays an important role. One of the most exciting episodes in the book finds Clare being pursued through a forest by a man with a gun as a snowstorm rages around them.
When the going gets tough, she recalls the words of a survival school instructor who told her, “ . . . don’t use your tits for brains!” (p. 236) Good advice! If Clare had used her brain when she was butting into Russ’s investigation, she wouldn’t have been in the forest in the first place. But then
there wouldn’t have been much of a story. So, much as I dislike the fact that Clare is sometimes portrayed as the stereotyped helpless, ditzy female, I give In the Bleak Midwinter one and a half thumbs up.
F. Y. I.: In the Bleak Midwinter is the first in a series featuring
Clare and Russ. The next book is A Fountain Filled with Blood.
The Romance Reader, by Pearl Abraham
The romance reader of Abraham’s book’s title is Rachel, the oldest daughter of the Benjamin family. Rachel has begun to rebel against the strict rules of her Hasidic religion. She wants her life to be like the lives of the heroines in the novels that she reads despite her parents’ disapproval.
Neither her friends nor her parents can figure out why Rachel is so dissatisfied with her life. Even Leah, Rachel’s slightly younger sister (who rebels to some extent), feels that Rachel always goes too far. But Rachel wants very little: “I don’t want to fight for anything. I want to just be and do,
with no one saying they’re letting me.” (p. 280)
Abraham does an admirable job of presenting the world of the Hasidic Jew. And her characters, especially the passive aggressive Mr. Benjamin, are interesting. But toward the close of the book I began to feel as though pages were missing. Rachel went from being a summer lifeguard to interviewing for a teaching job with no transitional material. And the ending of the book (which I won’t give away) was vague and underdeveloped. Ultimately, an interesting book became not so good.
On Rue Tatin (Living and Cooking in a French Town), by Susan Herrmann Loomis
In 1993 Susan Herrmann Loomis, a writer of cookbooks; her husband Michael, a sculptor; and their two-year-old son Joseph moved from the United States to Louviers, a midsized town in Normandy, France. There they proceeded to live the good life.
What part of this book was most irresistible? Was it the account of the extensive renovations (most undertaken by Michael) of the house they bought on rue Tatin? The description of the shops in Louviers? The catalogue of the mouthwatering foods in the stalls of the weekly farmers’ market? The
recipes at the end of every chapter? I couldn’t decide.
The highest praise that I give to a book I like is to call it charming.
On Rue Tatin is charming with a capital C.
Starting Out in the Evening, by Brian Morton
Chapter 1 of Starting Out in the Evening is less than one page long.
But, when I finished reading it, I was afraid to go on. What if the next
chapter weren’t as wonderful? Fortunately, it was.
Leonard Schiller is an aging (mid 70’s) author of four books, all of
which are out of print. Heather Wolfe is a young (mid 20’s) student who read
two of Schiller’s books at critical points in her life. She believes that
the books gave her the courage to live a life of freedom. So, she decides to
write her Master’s thesis on Schiller’s work. Ariel is Schiller’s
not-so-young (late 30’s), much loved daughter. She’s unhappy and unfulfilled.
When these three characters come together -- not much happens. But the
language in which it doesn’t happen is wonderful.
Early on in my reading of Starting Out in the Evening I began sticking
little pieces of paper in the book so that I could refer back to what I
considered to be memorable passages. Before long, I had used more than a dozen
pieces of paper. Then I started trying to remember what pages significant
passages were on. There were too many. As must be apparent, I loved this
book. I loved the language and the characters and, most of all, I loved the
tenderness that Morton seemed to feel for his story.
Also Recommended: Broken for You
The Late, Lamented Molly Marx, by Sally Koslow
It’s impossible not to draw comparisons between Koslow’s The Late,
Lamented Molly Marx and Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones. After all, both are
narrated by dead women who are looking down on the people and places they
loved in life. But, while Sebold’s book is unremittingly dark, the first two
thirds of The Late, Lamented Molly Marx is at times light-hearted, perhaps
because the plot covers events in Molly’s life which seem to have no bearing
on her death. The big question is how did Molly die? Suicide? Accident?
Murder? The investigation into this question provides the impetus for the
book.
The last third of The Late, Lamented Molly Marx becomes ever more
somber. The reader watches as Molly’s life begins to fall apart. Unfortunately,
it was at this point that I began to lose patience with both Molly and
Koslow. “Stop behaving like a fool!” I wanted to shout to Molly. “Get on with
the story, already!” were the thoughts I sent to Koslow. Molly didn’t
stop acting foolishly, but Koslow did get on with her story, first providing an
obscure look at Molly’s death and then suddenly skipping more than twenty
years into the future and letting the reader know what had happened in the
characters’ lives.
Koslow’s style is breezy, and her characters are, for the most part,
interesting. But the clichéd, sloppy ending (which made me feel as though
Koslow simply got tired of writing), doesn’t fulfill the promise of the
beginning of her book.
Supplementary Reading: The Lovely Bones, by Alice Sebold
Zorro, by Isabel Allende
If you read Zorro expecting the non-stop romantic and swashbuckling
exploits of the very old TV show, you may be disappointed. It isn’t until
p.164 of the book (CD 6 of the audio book) that Zorro marks his famous Z on Le
Chevalier’s bedroom wall.
Allende’s book begins before Zorro (whose real name is Diego de la
Vega) is born. And, except for a four page final chapter which gives a very
brief picture of his later life, it ends when he is 20. Still, her novel is
filled with love interests and adventure. And Allende explains such mysteries
as why Diego chose the name Zorro for his alter ego and how that persona
came to be.
For years I checked Allende’s books out of the library and then didn’t
read them. Her reputation intimidated me. I feared that her books would
be over my head. But I shouldn’t have worried. While Allende’s style and
plot are certainly sophisticated, both are readily accessible.
Cemetery Dance, by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child
Lock your doors and windows and plan to sleep with the lights on! Preston and Child immediately capture their readers’ attention by dishing up a grisly murder only a few pages into their latest novel. And the perpetrator is a man who’s been dead for two weeks!
If you’re a fan of Preston and Child (as I am), You’ll count this book as one of their best. Special F. B. I. Agent Pendergast oozes onto the page in fine form. And we meet many other friends from previous adventures., some of whom serve to highlight Pendergast’s sophistication and unflappability.
Cemetery Dance is fast-paced. It contains scenes which would make Poe proud. For those of you who are not fans of the supernatural, don’t worry. One of the things I like best about Preston and Child’s novels is that regardless of how farfetched the plot seems (zombies in this book), there’s always a logical explanation for what happens.
Tip: If you can listen to this book, do so. Narrator René Auberjonois is fantastic.
Supplementary Reading: My Lobotomy, by Howard Nully
The Devil’s Punchbowl by Greg Iles
Warning: The Devil’s Punchbowl is not for the weak of body or mind. This hefty novel, which brings back Penn Cage and other familiar characters, graphically depicts murder, rape, torture, and (despite what we have learned from the Michael Vick case) the unimaginably vicious world of dogfighting.
The above topics were difficult to read about. But, because they are (thankfully) outside my realm of experience, I found that I could fairly easily put them out of my mind when I put down Iles’ book.
The intellectual issues of The Devil’s Punchbowl were harder to dismiss. Vengeance, betrayal, the nature of heroism, and the rights of the individual versus those of the group are ideas with which we are all familiar. They’re also ones which we don’t always like to think about. Iles’ characters were tested in many terrible ways. Such was my identification with them that as I read (and later lay awake thinking about the book) I asked myself, “How far would I go to avenge someone or something I love? What would it take for me to betray others or myself? How much of a hero am I -- or do I want to be? Would I sacrifice myself or those I love for ‘the greater good’?” When I looked back at my life, I found myself doing a bit of squirming.
When I looked at the present and tried to peer into the future, I prayed, “May I never be tested too hard!”For as Penn Cage says on page 568, “ . . . there are urges in the blood that no amount of socialization will ever remove. Lies and cruelty and murder are in us all. All.”
Interred with Their Bones, by Jennifer Lee Carroll
If you can figure out what goes on in Carroll’s book, you know more about Shakespeare than I do. In fact, you may know more about Shakespeare than he did!
The book begins with the search for a lost Shakespeare play (which is based on one of the themes in Don Quixote). But soon the plot evolves -- or devolves -- into an investigation into whether Shakespeare was the author of Shakespeare’s plays.
The characters move back and forth between Europe and North America, leaving a trail of bodies and First Folios in their wake. As they do so, the list of characters and events to keep track of grows ever longer and more complex. Meanwhile, the heroine behaves like a learned scholar one minute and a ditzy airhead the next. As for the villain? There seems to be any
number of them.
In the book’s Acknowledgments section Carroll gives an exhaustive explanation of the background involved in writing Interred with Their Bones. It was almost as confusing as the book itself.
I listened to this book. If I had been reading it, I wouldn’t have
gotten past the first two chapters.
Tip: If you want Shakespeare, read one of his plays! (Or join the
Shakespeare reading group at the Essex library!)
The Scarecrow, by Michael Connelly
Initially, I wasn’t even very interested in Jack McEvoy, the book’s hero. And who could figure out what was going on with Rachel Walling? Talk about going from hot to cold and back again! I (and Jack) never knew what to expect from her.
I did eventually get caught up in Connelly’s plot, but at times it seemed predictable, and I felt as though I had read something very similar. Still, the book was fast-paced and a quick read. And on page 166 Connelly seems to give the reader his take on life: “There were a billion lights out there on the horizon and I knew that all of them put together weren’t enough to
light the darkness in the hearts of some men.”
F. Y. I: I’ve read a number of Connelly’s books. My favorite is The Lincoln Lawyer.
Hannah’s Dream, by Diane Hammond
want to move Hannah to an elephant sanctuary where she can live her last twenty years with other elephants.
Hammond’s book, which contains many wonderful details about elephant behavior, will make the sentimental among you laugh and cry with happiness. For as Max Biedelman says to Sam on page 249, “’So you see, Mr. Brown, it is possible that even the most despicable people can sometimes do good.’”
F. Y. I.: If you like books about animals, ignore the sappy titles and try the following:
Chosen by a Horse, by Susan Richardson
The Good, Good Pig, by Sy Montgomery
Wesley the Owl, by Stacey O’ Brian
Island of Lost Girls, by Jennifer McMahon
Mystery upon mystery upon mystery! But does the pile create a good book?
Life without Summer, by Lynne Griffin
(Because this little review is the harshest I’ve ever written, I need to say that I realize that many may not agree with it. I truly don’t mean to be unkind.)
I read the Acknowledgments section of the book, my heart went out to Griffin. This was her first book. Can you imagine how exciting it must be to have a novel published? But how did it get published? Griffin is clearly an enthusiastic and hard-working writer who deserved better treatment from her editor and friends. She needed to do more work on this book. Could it have
been saved? Undoubtedly, but it (and Griffin) needed some honest criticism.
When The White House Was Ours, by Porter Shreve
Cinnamon’s lover. The group moves to Washington, D. C., during the summer of 1976, when Jimmy Carter wins the national election and prepares to move into the White House and the Truitts et al move into their white house, a rambling, rundown Victorian.
History, while it would be weathered in today’s public schools, proves to be disastrous for the struggling institution known as Our House. In Part III, Our Country 2000, the main characters, who have briefly reunited, await the results of the Gore vs Bush election. In this section Shreve lets the reader know how the characters have fared in mainstream America since 1977.
The Middle Place, by Kelly Corrigan
chemotherapy regime, her father is diagnosed with bladder cancer.
In the present Corrigan finds herself in “the middle place.” She’s a wife, mother and grown daughter (who’s trying to oversee her father’s treatment), but in her heart she still is (and, as she faces the terrors of her cancer increasingly wants to be) her father’s little girl.
looking (unrealistically) for a person with a perfect complexion.
And the fact that she ends up working with autistic children seems appropriate for someone who herself has so much trouble evaluating and behaving appropriately in a variety of social situations. Do her problems originate with the cruelty and manipulation of her father? Perhaps. Certainly it’s not
until she’s in her twenties that she realizes that she has bought into his behavior, whereas her sister and mother have moved on.
Sittenfeld’s prose is a pleasure to read. Unlike many current authors, she had mastered the rules of grammar, structure, and mechanics.
Sister, by A. Manette Ansay
I like A. Manette Ansay. I haven’t read her newest book (Good Things I Wish You), but I have read Midnight Champagne, Blue Water, Vinegar Hill, and her excellent memoir, Limbo.
What happens in Sister? Not much. The Schiller family struggles with the problems that life hands out. None of their problems is unique. Some are ones that you and I have faced. And, as you and I do, the family members endure, grow, and change. So in some ways Sister is a story of survival.
Most of all, though, this is a story about faith -- but not in the sense of religious beliefs. Mrs. Schiller says, “’I don’t mean the Catholic Church, or even God, I mean,’ she pauses, searching for the right words, ‘faith. The ability to believe. The ability to see beyond the place where you are.’” This book reminded me that we all need to believe in something.
Breakable You, by Brian Morton
some of my least attractive qualities. Oh, dear! Did I want to continue?
serious: “Maybe a man can change. It helps when you’ve been injured, when you’ve been dislodged from the complacent routines of your life. Sometimes it takes an injury to make you see what you share with others.” (p. 330)
Morton’s book did not turn out as I had expected. The bad guys didn’t “see the light.” The good guys suffered but survived. People bent, but, despite the title, they didn’t break -- as least to my way of thinking.
Why Mermaids Sing, by C. S. Harris
Grisly murders, general mayhem, poetry, passion, Lords, Ladies, a beautiful actress, betrayal, revenge, cannibalism, and more! This book has it all! Harris’s novel, which takes place in 1811 in London and its environs, packs its action into just thirteen days. When I finished reading it, I was exhausted -- and all I had done was lie on the couch!
While Harris’s book is a bit melodramatic for my tastes (or maybe I’m just too old to fall in love with the yellow-eyed Viscount Devlin), it certainly held my interest. And unexpected twists at the end provide the groundwork for the next Sebastian St. Cyr mystery, Where Serpents Sleep. F. Y. I.: While Why Mermaids Sing can certainly stand alone, you may want to start with the two previous installments in the series: What Angels Fear and When Gods Die.
The Lady in the Palazzo, by Marlena de Blasi
I listened to this book for the pleasure of hearing the narrator’s lovely accent, especially when she read the occasional Italian sentences. Then I read it so that I could savor de Blasi’s wonderful prose. This lovely book is perhaps best suited to those of us over a certain age (50 or so?), who can appreciate the author’s middle-aged take on love and life.
Don’t be discouraged by the book’s slow and somewhat confusing start. (For clarification of some of the things de Blasi talks about, you may want to first read A Thousand Days in Venice and A Thousand Days in Tuscany, which record her earlier Italian adventures.) If you love food, wine, beautiful furnishings, and fascinating, warm-hearted people, and if you want to meet an author whom you’d like to have as a best friend, The Lady in the Palazzo is a book to read and add to your home library.
F. Y. I.: If you’re an armchair traveler and you’ve already read all of the books by Peter Mayle and Frances Mayes, try the following: The Reluctant Tuscan, by Phil Doran; Golden Boy (Memories of a Hong Kong Boyhood), by Martin Booth; The Flame Trees of Thika, by Elspeth Huxley.
Slum Dog Millionaire, by Vickers Swarup
Did you see the movie on which this book was based? I didn’t. In fact, before I began listening to the book the only thing I knew about it was that it was set in India.
Here’s the plot: A poor orphan named Rom goes on a quiz show, answers twelve questions, and wins the biggest jackpot ever paid out. The producer of the show isn’t prepared to pay the money. So he says that Rom cheated and has him arrested. Rom is tortured, but, just as he is about to break, he’s rescued by a beautiful young woman who says that she’s his lawyer. That night Rom explains how he was able to answer the quiz show questions by narrating episodes from his life. Each episode led to the acquisition of an obscure bit of knowledge which was the answer to one of the quiz show’s questions.
Is the book exciting? Yes! Is it believable? Not so much. But I don’t think it was meant to be. Nor do I think that the story is peculiar to India. Some of the events which Rom narrates could have taken place in any country as long as it has pockets of poverty (and what country doesn’t?). Other events, which rely on coincidence piled upon coincidence, seem unlikely to exist outside of the pages of fiction. Still, the book is fun. And it ends with a moral. Rom’s last words, which he speaks right after he throws away his good luck coin, are “Luck comes from within.” -- easy to say when one has just won a billion rupees
I Love a Man in Uniform, by Lily Burana A Memoir
A former stripper and one-time Playboy model marries a career Military Intelligence officer.
Heart in the Right Place, by Carolyn Jourdan A Memoir on Tape
Five minutes into listening to Jourdan’s memoir, I realized that I had read the book. But the narrator (Kate Forbes) had a pleasant Southern twang, and the opening scene was humorous---and I was listening on a portable CD player while I mowed the lawn.
Not Becoming My Mother by Ruth Reichl
In this new book Reichl examines letters, jottings, and her memories and concludes that much of her mother’s ineptness was deliberate, that it was intended to convince her daughter not to sacrifice her dreams for marriage, children, and a meaningless career. In fact, she remembers her mother saying as much. Since Reichl’s mother died before any of her books were published, one wonders about the nature of her apology. Did she really need to put it into print? And does she realize that, as the title of her book says, she doesn’t want to be like her mother? I sense another apology in the wings!
The Help, by Kathryn Stockett
If you can listen to this novel on CD, do. The three women who read the parts of the main characters are amazing. In fact, I enjoyed listening to this book so much that I was afraid the print version would pale by comparison. But friends who have read The Help (and I read much of it, too) speak of the powerful voices of the main characters, two of whom (Abilene and Minny) are black nannies/maids. The third (Skeeter) is a twenty-two-year-old white woman who has begun to recognize and struggle against the prejudice that exists in 1960’s Mississippi. I loved this book. The women’s stories,which stayed with me long after I finished the book, made me laugh and cry. The novel’s only false note is Chapter 25, which is not told by one of the characters.
Suggestion: Before reading The Help, try Hillary Jordan’s Mudbound, which deals with prejudice in Mississippi immediately after World War II.
The Housekeeper and the Professor , by Yoko Ogawa
He remembers everything that happened before his accident, but his post-accident memory extends for only eighty minutes. Into his life come a compassionate woman (the housekeeper) and, after a time, her ten-year-old son.
Ogawa’s characters treat one another with heart-warming tenderness. The housekeeper and her son (None of the characters are given names.) try both to protect the professor from the changes that have taken place in the world since his accident and also to bring some joy into his restricted life. The professor helps the boy with his homework and takes delight in the details of the everyday events of his life. He shows the uneducated housekeeper (and me, a true math phobic) that math can be fascinating -- and fun! If you’re looking for a book that’s a bit different (and one that will capture your heart), Ogawa’s novel is perfect.
One of the main characters in The Forgotten Garden is Eliza Makepeace,
the author of Magical Tales for Boys and Girls, a book of fairy tales. When
I had read about half of The Forgotten Garden, I decided that the novel
itself is a fairy tale, complete with ogres, evil witches, damsels in distress
and Prince Charming. Because the novel jumps backward and forward in time,
keeping track of the characters was sometimes difficult. And Norton needs a
lesson on avoiding sentence fragments. But the plot moves quickly, and it
kept me engaged (perhaps even enchanted) until nearly the end, when some
events became too difficult for this sometimes overly cynical and critical
reader to accept.