Labor Day, by Joyce Maynard
Labor Day begins on the Thursday before Labor Day and ends on the following Wednesday. The main characters are thirteen-year-old Henry, his troubled mother Adele, and Frank, an escaped convict. Adele seldom leaves the house any more, but on the Thursday before Labor Day she and Henry are out shopping for his school clothes when Frank approaches Henry and asks for help. Adele and Henry take Frank back to their house. Over the next several days Adele and Frank fall in love and Henry grows up -- and learns the meaning of jealousy.
The plot of Labor Day sounds silly. But somehow it works. In fact, Maynard’s novel is beautiful, haunting, and heartbreaking. As the plot reached its climax, I couldn’t bear to go on. So I read the book’s last chapter, and then the chapter before that, and then the chapter before that. Eventually, there was only one chapter left. But by then I was prepared for what I had known all along was going to happen.
Half the Sky (Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide), by Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn
Half the Sky begins with a story that sounds like something you’d see on a soap opera. In order to support her family, a fifteen-year-old Cambodian girl leaves home to find a job washing dishes. She’s kidnapped and taken to Malaysia, where she’s sold to the owner of a brothel, who beats her until she agrees to cooperate with the “clients.” Eventually she escapes and goes to the police for help. They arrest her for illegal immigration, and she spends a year in jail. When she is released, she is told that she will be taken home. But, when she and her escort cross into Cambodia, she is sold again. She escapes and, finally, makes her way home. There an aid group lends her the money to by a street cart. She does well and soon saves enough to buy a stall -- and then another. Today she is one of many success stories: A girl of great courage who supports herself and her family.
Half the Sky discusses three topics: 1) Sex trafficking and forced prostitution, 2) Gender-based violence, including honor killing and mass rape, 3) Maternal mortality. Many of the book’s statistics are mind-boggling: 1) Two million women go missing every year because of gender discrimination; 2) In India there’s a bride burning every two minutes; 3) Every minute a woman dies because of inadequate maternity related care.
In many ways Half the Sky is horrifying. But, as the authors point out, the book is a story of transformation. The solutions to many of the problems which women face can be alleviated by means of education and micro financing. Of course, the scope of the issues preclude a quick solution, but progress is being made. Kristof and WuDunn provide concrete examples (in the form of strategies, aid agencies, and web sites) with which you and I can make a difference.
Short Girls, by Bich Minh Nguyen
The short girls to which the title of Nguyen’s book refers are Van and Linny Luong, American-born children of Vietnamese parents. After living in the United States for nearly thirty years, Mr. Luong is finally going to become a citizen. Van and Linny will attend the swearing-in ceremony and then return to their childhood home to clean and prepare for the party which Mr. Luong has planned for the following day. Van and Linny, who are very different in looks, personalities, and lifestyles, have had little to say to one another for years. But on this visit home they carry some heavy baggage: Van’s husband has recently left her; Linny has broken off her relationship with a married man -- and she’s seen Van’s husband with another woman.
In Short Girls Van and Linny tell the story in alternating chapters, an effective technique since even as the reader is involved in one girl’s story he/she is anxious to return to that of the other. Nguyen does an exceptional job of conveying the personalities of her characters, especially that of the frail Van. She also clearly cares about immigration issues, which have become increasingly complicated in the wake of 9/11. Whether you’re short or tall, you’ll find Short Girls to be an entertaining and well-written read.
Noah’s Compass, by Anne Tyler
When he is sixty years old, Liam Pennywell, who studied philosophy in college, loses his fifth grade teaching job. To save money he moves into a smaller apartment than the one where he has lived for many years. On his first night in the new apartment, Liam goes to bed exhausted -- and wakes up in the hospital, the victim of an attack by an intruder who hits him over the head. Liam has no memory of the attack, a circumstance which he finds extremely upsetting. During a visit to a neurologist, Liam observes a woman who whispers information to the man whom she accompanies. Liam calls her the “rememberer.” Obsessed with the idea that she can help him remember, Liam sets out to meet the woman.
As I read Noah’s Compass, I waited patiently for a character named Noah to appear. Finally, on page 219, Liam and his grandson Jonah talk briefly about the Biblical Noah. Liam mentions the fact that Noah didn’t need a compass on the ark. I’ve read the passage about Noah at least a dozen times and may have its meaning figured out. Regardless, I enjoyed Tyler’s latest book, which is very low key. The last sentence of the book is heartbreaking. I wanted to weep for Liam -- and for me.
The Crossing Places, by Elly Griffiths
Ruth Galloway, who teaches archaeology at the University of North Norfolk, lives in a remote area of England called the Saltmarsh. She becomes involved in a police investigation when Detective Chief Inspector Harry Nelson asks her to examine some bones which have been found on the Saltmarsh. Nelson thinks (hopes?) that the bones may belong to Lucy Downey, a young girl who disappeared ten years earlier. They don’t. In fact, they date from the Iron Age. Galloway unexpectedly finds herself becoming Nelson’s confidant as he continues to search for Lucy. When another young girl goes missing, Galloway begins to fear that a “dig” in which she participated around the time of Lucy’s disappearance may hold the answers to what has happened to both girls.
The Crossing Places is one of those pleasing books that both provides a chilling plot and adds to the reader’s knowledge (in this case information about the Iron Age). Galloway and Nelson are an interesting duo. There were a couple of times when the story bogged down a bit, but there was also a point at which I laughed out loud.
FYI: At the end of The Crossing Places Griffiths includes the first chapter of The Janis Stone, the next mystery starring Galloway and Nelson, which will be released in the fall of 2010.
Aftermath, by Brian Shawver
Casey Fielder is the manager of O’Ruddy’s restaurant. Late on a frigid January Friday night, Jenny, the only waitress still on duty, goes to Casey’s office and says, “Those boys are back again.” The “boys” are a group of well-to-do students from St. Brendan’s high school and another from the public school across the tracks. When the two groups had gathered and fought in O’Ruddy’s parking lot a few weeks earlier, the police had been called, and a report of the incident was sent to the restaurant’s parent company. Casey had then been warned by the elderly couple who operated the restaurant that if there were any more trouble the restaurant would close. As a result, on this Friday night, Casey hopes that he won’t have to call the police. When he finally decides that he does have to make the call, Jenny reports that the phone isn’t working. And, so, events unfold. Most of the injuries inflicted on/by the boys are extremely minor. But one boy, Colin Chase, sustains extreme brain damage. Now Colin, Colin’s parents, Casey, and Jenny must deal with the aftermath of the fight.
The story line and style of Aftermath drew me in immediately. Except for Chapter 8 (which I found to be a bit confusing) I devoured Shawver’s book, which was extremely realistic in its portrayal of the various characters. The plot of Aftermath surprised me several times. And it has a terrific ending.
My Cat Saved My Life, by Phillip Schreibman
When the cat that he later names Alice comes into Schreibman’s life, she is dehydrated, malnourished, infested with ear mites, and the victim of a life-threatening hernia. Schreibman is also a mess. But his wounds are in the inside and have resulted in a depression so deep that he has no idea how to climb out. Luckily for Schreibman, Alice knows what to do. Little by little she draws him out of himself and, literally, back into the world. When Alice eventually dies, Schreibman has to decide if he is going to curl up into the darkness again or pay tribute to Alice by choosing life. He chooses the latter.
Anyone who has ever loved and been loved by a pet has experienced pure joy. Animals certainly do have the power to change lives. And Alice seems to have been a very special cat. But Schreibman’s account of their relationship becomes a bit too mystical, too deep, too off the wall for me to buy into. Also I’m trying to figure out why, after sitting with the dying Alice for hours on end, Schreibman goes out to buy groceries during the final minutes of her life.
The Big Burn (Teddy Roosevelt and the Fire That Saved America), by Timothy Egan
On August 20, 1910, a forest fire roared into the town of Wallace, Idaho (population 7,500). Wallace’s women and children had been evacuated by train. The men had stayed behind (some willingly, some not) to try to save the town. The fire, which came to be known as the Big Burn, destroyed more than 3,000,000 acres of land, most of which was part of the 60,000,000 acres which President Teddy Roosevelt had set aside as public land when he established the United States Forestry Service in 1905. Roosevelt and his chief forester , Griffin Pinchot (who had been fired by President Taft by the time of the Big Burn), worked throughout their lives to preserve land and wildlife for future generations.
In The Big Burn Egan does a masterful job of bringing to life Presidents Roosevelt and Taft, Griffin Pinchot, the powerful men who opposed Roosevelt and Pinchot, and the forest rangers who put their lives on the line at a time when fire fighting skills were in their infancy. Egan also details the beginning of the ingoing struggle between those who want to preserve our natural resources and those who have what they see as a more practical agenda.
Unfinished Desires, by Gail Godwin
On the evening of April 25, 1952, the fifteen girls who comprise the ninth grade class of the Mount St. Gabriel’s School entertain their fellow students, families, and teachers with their performance of the play The Red Nun. The play had been written in 1931 by then student Suzanne Ravenel, who is now Mother Ravenel, the head of St. Gabriel’s. The Red Nun has been modified and performed several times since its inception, but on the above night Mother Ravenel stops the performance before it reaches the end. Two students are immediately expelled, and several fail to return in the fall of 1952. Many years later the now retired Mother Ravenel is asked by some of her former students to write a history of St. Gabriel’s. How truthful will Mother Ravenel’s account be?
Despite the fact that I had trouble remembering who characters were throughout my reading of Unfinished Desires, I found Godwin’s book to be totally engaging. I use the word engaging deliberately as Godwin’s novels are not simple. If one doesn’t become involved with them, they’re impossible to stick with. I’ve been reading Godwin for many years. Unfinished Desires shows that her skills have not deteriorated over time.
Necessary as Blood, by Deborah Crombie
Sandra Gillies is a talented artist who creates fabric paintings. One Sunday she and her toddler daughter, Charlotte, set out to meet Naz Malik (Sandra’s husband, Charlotte’s father) for lunch. Sandra has an idea for her newest painting. She leaves Charlotte with a friend while she takes a few minutes to pursue her idea -- and is never seen again. Three months later Malik is killed. Scotland Yard detective Gemma James and Superintendent Duncan Kincaid (who are trying to plan their wedding) soon find themselves involved in a case which takes them from an exclusive men’s club to the heart of the Bangladeshi community to a drug-riddled white council estate as they try to solve a disappearance and a murder and find a suitable home for Charlotte.
Necessary as Blood is the thirteenth book in the series starring James and Kincaid. Some of the books are better than others, but all are well written and tell a good story. Part of the appeal of Crombie’s books is that they reflect cultural changes and trends in London and bring the reader into the center of its various communities. While all of the books in the series can be read independently, if you like Necessary as Blood, you may want to go back and read the rest of the books in order.
Committed, by Elizabeth Gilbert
Elizabeth Gilbert and her boyfriend (Felipe) are totally committed to one another. Alone in the hotel room in which they are temporarily living, they exchange vows, promising to love and cherish one another forever. The couple also vow never to marry one another. But things change when Felipe, a world traveler who considers himself to be a Brazilian but whose passport identifies him as Australian, is told that he is no longer welcome in the United States -- unless he marries an American citizen. As Elizabeth and Felipe embark on the long and tedious bureaucratic process which will allow them to become husband and wife, Elizabeth reads, researches, and then writes about love, marriage, relationships, and the man with whom she wants to spend her life.
I started reading Committed three times. The third time I told myself to just plow through the first chapter and then decide if I wanted to continue. My problem was that when I finished reading Eat, Pray, Love, to which Committed is the sequel, I had formed an intense dislike for Gilbert. I thought she was a whiney, spoiled baby whose life, despite going through what she considered to be a traumatic divorce, was much easier than that of many women. I’m still not a big Gilbert fan, but I liked her new book. It’s informative on many levels. And Gilbert seems to have gotten a handle on her faults and/or annoying habits.
Warning: If you worship on the altar of marriage, Gilbert’s book is probably not for you.
An Irish Country Village, by Patrick Taylor
An Irish Country Village picks up where An Irish Country Doctor (which I reviewed previously) left off. Dr. Berry Laverty has been offered a partnership in the practice of the eccentric but lovable Dr. Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly. But Laverty, who misdiagnoses the illness of a patient who subsequently dies, fears that the citizens of Ballybucklebo have lost confidence in him. And Laverty’s love interest is hoping to study in London for three years. Can their relationship survive the separation? As Doctors Laverty and O’Reilly see to the ailments of their quirky, endearing, and/or annoying patients, they frequently find themselves drawn into village life in a distinctly unmedical way.
An Irish Country Village is another delightful -- if occasionally corny -- visit to a tiny Irish village in the 1960’s. Taylor’s cast of characters is charming and varied. Even the bad guys aren’t too bad. Taylor’s books remind me of the old Andy Griffith shows. They’re fun to watch, but we cynics of 2010 don’t take them too seriously. We sigh and wonder, “Was life ever that simple?”
FYI: One again John Keating does a wonderful job of narrating the audio version of Taylor’s book. The next two books in Taylor’s series are An Irish Country Christmas and An Irish Country Girl.
The Vows of Silence, by Susan Hill
The small British town of Lafferton has been thrown into a state of panic by a serial killer. His victims, who are always young women, are sometimes shot at close range and sometimes killed by sniper fire. Simon Serrailler, the policeman in charge of catching the killer, is also dealing with personal issues. His sister’s husband has been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. And Simon is beginning to wonder if he is capable of sustaining a meaningful personal relationship.
Hill has written a thoroughly engaging, many stranded story filled with realistic and well-rounded characters. Although initially the switch from one story line to another was a bit confusing, I quickly adapted to the book’s fast-paced style. If you enjoy British police procedurals, Hill is definitely an author worth reading.
FYI: Previous Simon Serailler mysteries: The Risk of Darkness, The Pure in Heart, The Various Haunts of Men.
Necessary Madness, by Jenn Crowell
Necessary Madness is the title of one of the last paintings completed by Bill Burgess who, when he is barely thirty years old, dies of leukemia. His wife, Gloria, spent many years torn between the needs of her parents. Her father never got over the loss of the great love of his life, who died in an accident shortly before they were to be married. Her mother turned bitter and cold with the knowledge that she had given up her goals for a man who never truly loved her. Now, alone with Curran, her young son, Gloria must learn to live without the man who gave balance to her life. She must clutch at anything she can -- even madness -- in order to survive.
Necessary Madness is an incredibly realistic and sensitive portrayal of the death of a loved one. I was spellbound by Crowell’s book, which I read in one sitting. While I didn’t always agree with Gloria’s decisions, I understood her reasons for making them. I felt as though I were with her, living in her skin and trying to cope. Necessary Madness is a powerful story.
March, by Geraldine Brooks
March purports to be the story of the father of Amy, Beth, Jo, and Meg, the March girls of Little Women fame. The reader first meets Mr. March when, as a young man, he is wandering through the South selling geegaws to the women he encounters in the great houses. Returning home with the money he has earned, March makes a series of wise investments and is soon a wealthy man. He marries the woman with whom he falls in love at first sight, and they live happily and prosperously for several years. But then, as quickly as it came, the money is gone. Then March himself is gone, off to do his part (despite his age) as a chaplain and teacher during the Civil War.
I put off reading March for several years. I couldn’t stand the idea that someone might have tampered with Little Women, a book about which I have many fond memories. (I always wanted to be as good as Beth.) So as I listened to March, I tried to keep Brooks’s story separate from Alcott’s. I didn’t succeed. I was constantly dismayed by the fact that my little women had a father who was a terribly selfish man. I’ve always felt that one needs to be wary of zealots (of which March is certainly one). Too often they blithely expect others to live according to their passions. But, when push comes to shove, the principles driving those passions are frequently set aside. March is a thought-provoking story. I just wish that its main character had been a better man.
FYI: Brooks has written two other interesting books: Year of Wonders and People of the Book.
The Secret Scripture, by Sebastian Barry
When Roseanne McNulty, who has been a patient at the Roscommon Regional Mental Hospital for decades, approaches her 100th birthday, she feels the need to make a record of the important events of her life -- the pages of which she hides beneath a loose floor board in her room. Her doctor, William Grene, whose wife has recently died, begins spending time talking to Roseanne and investigating her background. He has learned that the hospital is going to be torn down, and he must decide which of its patients should be freed and which should be moved to another facility. As Dr. Grene tries to determine which account of Roseanne’s life is the truth -- hers, that of a priest who knew her for many years, or the bits of official records still in existence -- he learns an extraordinary truth about himself.
The Secret Scripture was the winner of the Costa Prize (probably better known to you as the Whitbread Prize). Why? Although the story was interesting, the Irish history and the conflicting accounts of Roseanne’s life were sometimes confusing. And the ending, while touching, was a bit too coincidental (and sentimental). I’m still puzzled by the novel’s title and the picture that Barry chose for its cover. Was there a religious dimension to the story (other than the role of the priest) that I missed?
FYI: The Whereabouts of Eneas McNulty (published in 1998) introduced the setting and themes of The Secret Scripture.
Life Estates, by Shelby Hearon
Sarah and Harriet have been friends since they attended boarding school together. On the surface their lives look to have been amazingly similar. When their husbands (both bankers) die within weeks of one another, the friends envision many years of shared activities ahead. But Sarah and Harriet are very different in important ways. Suddenly their friendship seems to be in jeopardy.
I really wanted to like Sarah and Harriet. And at times I did. But at other times I found them to be incredibly -- and incomprehensibly -- selfish. Their rigid, totally uncompromising attitudes toward marriage and the lifestyle choices of their children left me puzzled, angry, and dismayed. Maybe Sarah’s and Harriet’s foibles made them human. But I expected better of them.
A Gate at the Stairs, by Lorrie Moore
College student Tassie Keltjin needs to earn some extra money. She obtains a job babysitting the adopted, mixed-race child of a white couple, Sarah and Edward. But as the college semester comes to a close, Mary-Emma (called Emmie) is taken away from Sarah and Edward when a horrifying secret from their past comes to light. Tassie returns home for the summer. There, as a result of a family tragedy, she commits an act which is beyond bizarre.
For quite a while A Gate at the Stairs seemed to be about the difficulties faced by children brought up by parents of a different race. Then Moore’s novel took a turn for the weird. First there was Sarah and Edward’s secret, then Tassie’s behavior, and, lastly, the book’s odd and abrupt ending. And I can’t not mention the unusual way in which Tassie thought and acted, which were not what I would have expected from someone who was presented as an average college student. I’d like to speak to Moore and ask her, “What were you thinking?”
Evidence, by Jonathan Kellerman
At the center of Evidence is a double homicide. A man and a woman are found in a compromising position in the shell of a mega-mansion in Los Angeles. The man has been shot, the woman strangled. Although homicide detective Milo Sturgis readily identifies the male victim, the identity of the woman proves to be problematic. Nor can Sturgis find out who owns the partially completed dwelling where the murders took place. Sturgis’s investigation eventually leads to two foreign countries, another government agency, and eco-terrorism reaching back more than ten years.
Evidence is definitely sub-par Kellerman. The plot of the novel was so complicated that I felt as though I needed a series of diagrams to keep the characters and their actions straight -- especially when there turned out to be two plot lines, neither of which was particularly compelling. The characters came out of nowhere, and their behavior was poorly motivated. And speaking of behavior -- could Sturgis be getting a little too eccentric? Also, why was Alex Delaware a part of Evidence? He didn’t contribute anything to the story.
A Friend of the Family, by Lauren Grodstein
Pete and Elaine Dizinoff and Joe and Iris Stern have been best friends for many years. When Laura, the Sterns’ oldest child, is seventeen years old, she commits a heinous act which sends her first to a mental health facility and then into exile with various relatives and friends. When Laura is thirty years old, she returns home -- and dazzles the Dizinoffs’ twenty-year-old son Lucas, who has dropped out of college and seems to have no plans for his future. Pete dislikes and distrusts Laura. When she and Lucas make plans to go to Paris, he steps in to stop them. Unfortunately, Pete’s conflict with his son and his best friend’s daughter coincides with his misdiagnosis of a patient. Suddenly Pete is in danger of losing his wife, his son, his home, his job, and his best friend.
Grodstein’s writing style immediately drew me in. But her grammar needs a bit of work. (I couldn’t believe that she actually wrote “and etcetera.” Is there an editor in the house?) On the first page of A Friend of the Family Grodstein establishes the fact that Pete is going through a crisis. But suspense can be drawn out only so long before it becomes annoying. And when key events are finally revealed, they have to be well-motivated, logical, and completely explained. Ultimately, A Friend of the Family was a bit disappointing, but it was still basically a good read.
Haiku, by Andrew Vachss
In Haiku six homeless men come together: Ho, a former sensei, who believes he sent a student to her death; Ranger, a Vietnam veteran, who haunts the shadows; Lamont, a former gang leader, who has become an alcoholic; Michael, a one-time Wall St. player, who lost everything to his gambling addiction; Brewster, a schizophrenic, who collects paperbacks; Target, a young drifter, whose only communication comes when he echoes the sounds in the words of others. When the building in which Brewster houses his paperback collection (more than 4,000 volumes) is slated for demolition, the six men must draw on their strengths in order to devise and carry out a plan to save the books.
I dread picking up the paper and reading a review which praises Haiku as a brilliant metaphor for life and one of the best books of the decade. I thought it was nonsense. For the first 50 pages or so, I tried to analyze what I was reading. My brain worked really hard. But I couldn’t help but feel that Vachss was scamming his readers.