I am loathe to start a series in the middle but I just couldn't swing the first two books by the time I needed to get to this one. Fortunately, I abso...moreI am loathe to start a series in the middle but I just couldn't swing the first two books by the time I needed to get to this one. Fortunately, I absolutely enjoyed this book despite my ignorance of the series and the characters!
The novel fictionalizes the life of mystery novelist Josephine Tey (Tey is a pen name, but the character goes by Josephine in this series) and the novel alternates, roughly, chapters of Tey's draft account of a thirty year old crime and her present day. Upson beautifully differentiates between Tey's writing -- which is straight-forward, moving, simple -- and the narration, creating a yummy sense of story-within-a-story. There's a kind of heft to Upson's style of writing: it isn't ornate but it is decorated. Sentences are long and descriptive, heavy with baubles, and it lends a lovely kind of fussiness to the narrative that makes the story seem almost like a character itself. There were passages so fun to read I actually felt bouncy, if that makes sense, exuberant at reading them.
There's quite a cast of characters and a web of smaller mysteries that immediately hooked me (although I was lost from time to time as the characters referenced events from previous books) and I raced through this book. The mystery is grim but not gruesome, and Tey's character as a writer (rather than a detective or police officer) allowed for some sympathetic musings about the motivations of the women involved. Class differences, the shifting political landscape of the UK in the mid-1930s, and the lingering scars of WWI color the action and characters as well, and I appreciated that -- this felt more than a pat mystery series set in the '30s.
I'm going back and reading the first two books for sure, so I can be caught up in time for the fourth Tey novel (should I be so lucky). Highly recommended -- start with An Expert in Murder and work your way to this one!(less)
Shamefully, I had no idea who Robert Capa and Gerda Taro were when I started this book, but I now feel possessive and proud and affectionate toward Ge...moreShamefully, I had no idea who Robert Capa and Gerda Taro were when I started this book, but I now feel possessive and proud and affectionate toward Gerda Taro and I dare anyone to read this and not feel the same. In 1935, Jewish refugees Gerda Pohorylle and André Friedmann meet in Paris; André is a photographer who books Gerda's friend as a model for advertising images. Gerda becomes interested in the art of photography; her friend predicts a romance.
The novel is told through Gerda Pohorylle (mostly; the POV does shift to André/Capa at times, usually during sex) -- who later renames herself Gerda Taro -- but the story is really about the creation of Robert Capa and André's genius, temper, and passion. Robert Capa is an assumed name, created by Gerda as a way for she and André to make more money from his (and occasionally her) photographs.
I was pretty apprehensive about this one since a number of bloggers I trust didn't like this book, but once I started, I was surprised. I was immediately sucked in by the story -- Gerda is an amazing figure, and while I don't understand the appeal of André/Capa, I liked the way Fortes unfolded their romance and Gerda's education in photography. I was quite taken with the language and turn-of-phrase (like this, from page 3: "She preferred English poetry a million times over. One poem by Eliot can free you from evil, she thought. God didn't even help me escape that Wachterstrasse prison." Or this one, from page 6: "If sound waves travel through the ether, then somewhere in the galaxy there must also be the Psalms, litanies, and prayers of men floating within the stars.") and so I was surprised by the critiques that the writing/translation was problematic.
And then, I started to notice the weird grammar/punctuation issues. I'm not spectacular with grammar, yet I found now and then some really atrocious sentences and punctuation gaffes. Perhaps the result of my reading an uncorrected proof; perhaps this is a bad translation. Maybe something else entirely. But it didn't bother me enough to leave this book unfinished, and I think there is some really gorgeous language here and a heartbreaking, moving story. This is one that will stick with me (I'm still sighing over it to friends and colleagues) and I have no doubt this will be a frequent reread for me. (less)
What I love about historical fiction is that the past is given color and brought to life in a way that feels real, that invites me to see myself and m...moreWhat I love about historical fiction is that the past is given color and brought to life in a way that feels real, that invites me to see myself and my own life in the actions and events of the characters -- or, forces me to examine my own assumptions and biases (more on that later).
This was my first David Lodge novel so I didn't know what to expect; I've long wanted to read his take on Henry James but haven't gotten to it (someday, someday). This novel, centered on H.G. Wells, covers my favorite historical eras and features many historical figures I like.
The novel opens in 1944 with Wells' diagnoses of liver cancer. I wasn't immediately sucked in as I found Lodge's narrative style a bit awkward and I wasn't sure I was going to like any of the characters. On page 12, the story turns into an interview essentially, as Wells imagines someone grilling him about this life. I originally resented this technique: it felt too clever, too meta, too 'on last week's episode'... but as the novel progressed and the interviewer started asking pointed, hard questions (the kind I wanted asked), I had this grateful a-ha! The interviewer injected some accountability and culpability I needed in order to respect the problematic character of H.G. Suddenly, I found him less unappealing; I found some places to understand him.
I wasn't wild about Lodge's writing style. There were long chunks in which I forgot I was reading a novel; this could have been a biography lacking footnotes. Which isn't to say the book was bad, but rather, there was a lack of drama. It was at these times I missed our interrogator: I wanted a foil, or a mirror, something to slice beneath the well researched biography to expose the nerves. There's quite a lot of quoted correspondence and excerpts of reviews, which again gave the impression of nonfiction. Where the book worked for me was when Lodge focused on Wells' romantic and sexual relationships; much of the last portion of the novel focused on Wells writing and as I haven't read much of him nor enjoyed what I have read, I found the section dry and a bit boring.
Now: about my assumptions and biases and those romantic and sexual relationships. Reading this book was an experience in self-reflection, as my puritanical self went nuts hating on Wells for his sexual relationships. Lodge's H.G. saw his relationships and passades (Wells' term for his flings) as something necessary, sustaining, and inspiring; he perceived his wife and numerous lovers as being (essentially) comfortable with his attitudes about Free Love. I couldn't help but see the inequality in both his philosophy and practice of Free Love and I'd get all huffy every handful of pages or so, irritated on behalf of the numerous women he ran through. Still, every time I thought I'd quit reading, the interviewer would emerge and ask some scathing question that echoed what I was thinking, and it gave me a place to be vindicated and see Wells' angle.
At the end of this book, I found myself feeling very conflicted. As in my favorite historical novels, I found myself caught up in the life of the main character, and in this case, I didn't (couldn't, didn't want to) hate H.G. I still felt strongly for his lovers, quite protective of them, and yet, a bit sad as the story wound down and I was faced with H.G.'s death. I was made uncomfortable, provoked, soothed, entertained, and educated by this meaty novel (nearly 500 pages) and I heartily recommend it to anyone who likes literary hist fic. (less)
In a high school journalism class, I read some excerpts from Jessica Mitford's amazing book The American Way of Death, an expose and exploration of th...moreIn a high school journalism class, I read some excerpts from Jessica Mitford's amazing book The American Way of Death, an expose and exploration of the American funeral business (her book was said to have influenced Robert F. Kennedy's coffin choice for his brother). It was much later that I learned this Mitford was related to that other Mitford I knew, Nancy.
Born in 1917, Jessica was the sixth of seven children born to an English baron and his wife. Jessica's childhood was influenced by the privilege of her family's wealth, status, and name as well as the wildly diverging personalities of her sisters. All were passionate and brilliant, determined to mark their place in society; Jessica's early liberal political leanings were in stark contrast to her sisters Unity and Diana, who were dedicated Fascists and supporters of Hitler. An impetuous elopement with her second cousin lead to Jessica being cut out of the family. After her first marriage ended, she married an American and became a Communist. She actively worked in the Civil Rights movement and wrote sharp, invective examinations of American society.
At less than 350 pages, this biography reads quickly albeit a tad dry. I tend to favor more 'relational' biographies, the ones where the biographer openly acknowledges her place in the story, but this is one of those more formal types where the biographer is invisible. As a result, the writing style is very precise, very sharp, almost journalistic in style. Many sentences are shaped by a direct quote of some sort (i.e., Decca reveled in being "busy, busy, busy.", page 135) but that isn't to say that Brody doesn't write well or without passion (Suddenly, they were in a psychosexual crucible, with all the vino and cheap gin they could drink. He had a bitter edge. She had a wicked mouth. Finally, they were just kids., page 19). Mitford's life -- already fascinating -- snaps along in Brody's hands, one fascinating episode after another, and so this felt like a considerably shorter book.
Even if you're unfamiliar with Jessica Mitford, give this book a try: she's a fascinating women whose life reads like an over-the-top historical novel. I think anyone interested in post-WWII Britain and America will enjoy following this radical and brilliant writer through some of the most influential events in 20th century history.(less)
This is the kind of historical fiction that educates, effortlessly. Set in Singapore, spanning 1927 through 1946, this novel was a unique read for me...moreThis is the kind of historical fiction that educates, effortlessly. Set in Singapore, spanning 1927 through 1946, this novel was a unique read for me in that it covered an era I love in a setting wholly unfamiliar to me. Chand's characters aren't royalty or society elite but every day people caught up in a changing landscape; real historical moments meet the every day.
Chand's focus in this novel is on three primary groups in Singapore: the Eurasians -- Howard Burns, his mother, and his sister, local citizens of indigenous and European descent, viewed by the white Europeans as only a step above 'natives'; the transplanted Indians -- Raj Sherma, who migrated to Singapore for economic independence and ends up embroiled with the Japanese by a twist of fate; and the Chinese -- Mei Lan, a smart young woman whose family straddles modern European ideas and traditional Chinese culture and is caught, herself, between accepting her family's wishes and starting off on her own.
In almost any novel, the lives of women interest me most, so I was unsurprised to find that Mei Lan's story grabbed me immediately. However, Chand's detailed plotting, character development, and nuanced study of race, class, and education sucked me and I ended up caring deeply for both Raj and Howard as well. Even though I think the jacket blurb tries to imply a love triangle, this isn't just a historical romance set up in an exotic locale. This is really a novel about Singapore and the occupation of the land, first by the British and then by the Japanese. Identity and alliance is intrinsic to the story. Howard's mother, Rose, perceives the European disdain for Eurasions to be right and appropriate while Howard chafes at the implication. Raj struggles to rectify his experiences with the Japanese -- every one he's met has mentored and educated him -- with the virulent anti-Japanese sentiment in Singapore. Both Howard and Raj are captivated by Gandhi's anti-colonial revolutionary actions in India, but are split as to whether Singapore should take up the movement. Mei Lan is desirous of the university education her brother is given, but feels committed to her Chinese identity especially when news of Japanese brutalities in China reach Singapore.
Like Nevil Shute's A Town Like Alice, this book covers the before, during, and after of occupation, and I appreciated Chand's ability to offer the spectrum of emotional responses. My only complaint is that despite the novel's length (483 pages), some moments felt thin and underdeveloped. Enormous events are skipped over, casually alluded to, and years pass with only a vague comment. The dips in and out of the lives of the secondary characters was both enjoyable and maddening: I loved the additional facets through which the story was told but I was frustrated by the lack of development and resolution with them, as they were as compelling as the leads.
This was my first Meira Chand novel but I'm absolutely going to look for the rest of her books: this was a meaty, engrossing, sink-your-teeth-into historical novel that will stay with me. I'm haunted by the characters and I wish I could follow them another twenty years.(less)
I don't read a ton of nonfiction related to WWII because I'm a softie and a wimp. (And mildly obsessive when it comes to traumatic events; I'm a chro...more I don't read a ton of nonfiction related to WWII because I'm a softie and a wimp. (And mildly obsessive when it comes to traumatic events; I'm a chronic 24/7 CNN-er during disasters.) All this is to say it has to be a certain kind of nonfiction to lure me from my slightly safer world of fiction.
Moorehead's book intrigued me from the first for two reasons: one, I loved her bio of the marvelous Martha Gellhorn; and two, I love books that emphasize female friendships. That this book was set among WWII French resistors just sealed the deal (one of my favorite films is based on Sebastian Faulks' Charlotte Grey).
This isn't an easy book to get into: Moorehead has a brisk, dry style and the first three or four chapters are a barrage of people, places, dates, and events. It is easy to feel overwhelmed but these chapters rather quickly sketch out the feel of France under German occupation, the changes the Germans wrought, and context-ing the roots of the various Resistance movements. (For example, there are numerous Parisian neighborhoods with communist families; Moorehead later argues that the women who were active in the Communist Party fared better than some of the non-political prisoners due to the training and upbringing.)
The book went from merely interesting to gripping when the narrative moved from establishing context and setting to recounting the torturous way these resistors were treated upon being captured. Moorehead interviewed a few of the survivors still living, as well as their families, and used a wealth of other materials to make those years of imprisonment real. As the subtitle suggests, she does focus on the friendships between these women, who all agree it was part of the reason they survived as long as they did.
There are a ton of photographs included in the book which is marvelous (and disturbing and heartbreaking) and makes the stories of these women all the more real. Upon finishing, I teared up: Moorehead made these women real for me and I felt real sorrow for them. Even those who survived faced ongoing pain and heartache. Despite that, I don't regret reading this, and I highly recommend it for anyone interested in women's lives during wartime. This is a slender book -- about 300 pages -- and it's gripping. I know I just got done emphasizing how sad it is but because of that, it's a compelling read. (less)
I'm sort of baffled about this book. A historical novel set in 1930s Shanghai, the story follows Feng, a naive and excessively innocent woman forced...more I'm sort of baffled about this book. A historical novel set in 1930s Shanghai, the story follows Feng, a naive and excessively innocent woman forced into an arranged marriage with a powerful family. The resulting marriage twists her in to a different kind of woman, and we follow her transformation through the '40s and the Chinese Revolution.
This rich historical setting felt like a total waste as the novel is really about Feng's sexual education and the way her marriage warps her, causing her to become as cruel as those around her. I went through this spate of reading in middle school and high school, Lifetime Movie-esque novels featuring wronged women who wrought their revenge with sex, usually. Anti-romances, they featured lots of tawdriness and little love, and they were delicious, warped garbage. This reminds me of those kinds of books -- Sidney Sheldon, Wideacre-ish Philippa Gregory, Danielle Steele -- and if you're in the mood for that kind of novel, this will satisfy.
Unfortunately, I wasn't expecting it, so I was a bit disappointed -- I was thinking I'd get something meatier. It's not Jepson's fault I had something different in mind, though. His writing style is very easy, fast (I read this book in a few hours), and the characters fairly easy to know -- nothing super nuanced -- but a good old-fashioned salacious family saga. If the holidays are killing you, and you want some fiction that has the same nutritional value as eggnog, but tastes just as good, then this is the book for you!(less)
I hate coming in to a series midway, but after hearing nothing but raves for the Maisie Dobbs book, and this one in particular, I decided to plunge in...moreI hate coming in to a series midway, but after hearing nothing but raves for the Maisie Dobbs book, and this one in particular, I decided to plunge in and see what happened. I'm both sad and pleased I did so, because I had such a great time with this book, and I am desperate to start the series and get more Maisie.
When describing this to my wife, Masterpiece Theater/BBC-ish-ness is what I latched on to: Maisie is restrained, scarred by her experiences in World War I, in an era in which class and gender structures are being rigidly maintained and shaken up. (I kept recasting her in my mental film, since the only thing I'm fuzzy on is her age.) She's from of a working class family but had a unique opportunity to gain education, and as a result, she's aware of her place both 'upstairs' and 'downstairs'. I'm sure the theme of class straddling isn't new to the Maisie books, but I really liked that Winspear doesn't dismiss this after the first few books as I'm sure it colored and affected every aspect of Maisie's interactions.
The feel of the mystery runs more like Agatha Christie -- we're told about the crime, but we don't witness any gruesomeness, which I appreciate! -- but unlike Christie, this isn't a cagey whodunnit. I'm lazy with my mysteries -- I don't like to solve the crime -- so I appreciated that Maisie did the heavy lifting for me.
There's a romantic element to the story that I understand is a bit new and unusual for the series, which again I have mixed feelings about: on one hand, I love savoring it here, and I'm a bit sad I'll have to wait six books for it!; and on the other hand, I really appreciate that Winspear doesn't keep her 'formula' for these novels the same and force Maisie to remain without affection.
I'm being pretty vague on the plot because ultimately that wasn't what hooked me to the story. Like everyone has said, Maisie really is reason for reading, and I found her to be fascinating, intimidating, and appealing. I think one could read this story with no knowledge of the Maisie universe and be fine: Winspear offers tidbits that reference the previous books, and I never felt baffled or confused by a relationship she had.
Now I just have to decide: start with book one, or grab book 8 (A Lesson in Secrets)?(less)
This is an atmospheric novel with what might be one of my favorite heroines ever, a complicated, articulated, damaged-yet-hopeful woman who captivated...moreThis is an atmospheric novel with what might be one of my favorite heroines ever, a complicated, articulated, damaged-yet-hopeful woman who captivated me from the first page. Beginning in the 1960s or '70s (I'm not entirely sure, the novel is told by Judge Teoh Yun Ling, one of Malaysia's first female Supreme Court Justices. She has retired from the bench, a bit suddenly, and returns to the tea plantation owned by family friends. From then, in a desperate attempt to remember before she forgets, Yun Ling recounts her life after her release from a Japanese internment camp. The sole survivor, with a mangled hand and deep emotional scars, Yun Ling she throws herself into War Crimes work and eventually attends Cambridge University before returning to Malaysia to work. When she finds herself unable to cope with the government's decision to release Japan from financial restitution to victims, Yun Ling escapes to the country in hopes of establishing a memorial garden for her sister.
Obviously, this is a novel about war, but the conflict is beyond just World War II: following Japan's surrender, Malaysia was immediately gripped by a guerrilla war with the Communists, and Yun Ling's close friends are an Afrikaner family from South Africa, survivors of the Boer War. The themes of armed, violent conflict are reflected in every interaction and experience Yun Ling has, for there's no one in her life untouched by war. In an era well before the acknowledgement of PTSD, she -- like everyone else in Malaysia -- shoulders on, trying to find peace in whatever way possible.
Like Meira Chand's novel, A Different Sky, this novel acknowledges the reality of colonialism, xenophobia, and racism that shaped Malaysia's history. Yun Ling has deep seated hatred for the Japanese, yet she has to come to terms with her feelings when she commissions a gifted Japanese gardener to create the memorial garden for her sister.
While Yun Ling was the hook for me, the writing, oh, the writing swept me away. Yun Ling is known for her well written judgements, and her story is told in a clear but pretty way. Such evocative, poetic sentences: "These aged Englishmen had the forlorn air of pages torn from an old and forgotten book." (p13); "...too many incontinent lorries leaking gravel and cement as they made their way to another construction site in the highlands." (p17); "I do not bother to sieve the disdain from my voice." (p22). Despite the prettiness of the writing, the novel still feels restrained in a way, like Yun Ling, and the wealth of plot and angst don't overwhelm the story.
While I'm sure I'm conveying my enthusiasm for this book, I'm hope I'm also conveying the wonderful experience of this layered novel. More than just a historical novel, this is a fantastic character study and examination of a part of the world very unfamiliar to me. I often found myself chewing over this book as I listened to the news about the ongoing conflict in Afghanistan, thinking of those survivors, and I'm even more appreciative of this novel. A quiet, lovely book with punch.(less)
I have a thing for science fiction written by authors not known for sci-fi, like Doris Lessing, and so even though I haven't read much Lewis (none of...moreI have a thing for science fiction written by authors not known for sci-fi, like Doris Lessing, and so even though I haven't read much Lewis (none of his Narnia books, can you believe it?!), I had to say yes on this one. I will say straight out that I'm a science dummy, so sci-fi can be hit or miss for me, depending on whether I can 'get' the science. Happily, in this case, the science is sort of fuzzy, and the going to Mars is just a device to talk about souls, humanity, awareness, and other brainier topics I can handle.
This was a zippy read, not only because it's brief -- about 180ish pages, depending on your e-reader -- but also because the story moves rather quickly. Originally published in 1938, this story has that earnest feel of vintage sci-fi and science pulp -- lots of action, grand landscapes and pragmatically cruel villains -- but with a deep philosophical vein that makes the story meaty. It's no secret Lewis incorporates aspects of his Christian theology in to his fiction, and normally I'm pretty allergic to any and all 'inspiration' in my reading, but in this case, the religiosity is pretty low-grade and for me, inoffensive. There's some colonialism in the story as the characters deride or admire the beings on Mars (or, as called in the book, Malacandra), and aspire toward enslavement or liberation of the beings. It's both typical yet satisfying, the tropes that show up, and this really is a stereotypical 'first contact' type of lark, with a little more braininess than one might expect.
There's a Postscript to the story, a letter from Ransom (the fictional 'hero', of sorts) to C.S. Lewis, which made me laugh only because it was so...fussy. Ransom is giving Lewis critiques of the manuscript, and as a result, Lewis-by-way-of-Ransom includes a number of mundane facts and additional details for the practical-minded reader. But there's also a secondary discussion of 'memoir' (as this novel is pretending to be) and how one can't always convey the 'truth' of an event to the reader, despite a plethora of facts.
Of course you are right; if we are to treat it as a story you must telescope the time I spent in the village during which "nothing happened". But I grudge it. Those quiet weeks, the mere living among the hrossa, are to me the main thing that happened. I know them, Lewis; that's what you can't get into a mere story. For instance, because I always take a thermometer with me on a holiday (it has saved many a one from being spoiled) I know that the normal temperature of a hross is 103 degrees. I know -- though I can't remember learning it -- that they live about 80 Martian years, or 160 earth years; that they marry at about 20 (=40); ... that they do get (as you would say) "elevated" but not drunk on a gaudy night -- of which they have many. But what can one do with these scraps of information? I merely analyze them out of a whole living memory that can never be put into words, and no one in this world will be able to build up from such scraps quite the right picture.
On the whole, a readable sci-fi, especially for anyone intimidated by the genre. It's a story of exploration, of valuing others, the cruel and stupid way humans behave, and a vintage look at space travel from the 1930s. (I'm too lazy to look it up, but apparently Lewis was something like the fifth or sixth person to use the word 'spaceship' for the vehicle that took his characters to Mars.)(less)
This is a book that I accepted for review without fully understanding what it was about, and I'm glad I did; I think if I had read the blurb I might h...moreThis is a book that I accepted for review without fully understanding what it was about, and I'm glad I did; I think if I had read the blurb I might have passed. Set in Oregon in the 1930s, the story follows Russell Strawl, a frontier lawman with a violent past, who is called out of retirement to investigate the savage murders of Native Americans in the area.
In the vein of No Country for Old Men, True Grit, and The Sisters Brothers, this is a violent, gritty, unapologetic and unromantic look at life in the American west, straddling legal and criminal, violence and peace, romance and lust. There's a heavily noir element in the feel to the characters -- no one is good, and everyone is bad -- and even our hero is a questionable figure. This is a book that made me deeply uncomfortable in the best ways. The story is a bit of a straight up serial killer murder mystery combined with a literary painting of the west coast of the US in the 1930s. As with Ann Weisgarber's The Personal History of Rachel DuPree, I was surprised to see how rural life was for folks out west -- and that juxtaposition of 'modern' and 'historic' provided wonderful flavor.
I think I hit Chapter Two when I started gushing about this book to my wife, who really loves dark stuff; she was so intrigued she took the book from me to read, and we ended up having to split it, neither of us wanting to wait to read more. She took it during the day and I read at night, and it was a great experience because we chatted about this book nonstop. I loved Holbert's writing style; the text was literally a character, rich with allusions to Shakespeare and the Bible as Strawl meditated on his life, the romance of the west, the violence he's witnessed. My wife preferred Holbert's dialogue -- it raced, it conveyed character and story, and it had the pragmatic, solid heft one expects from these hard characters. The balance of literary-ness and grounded grimness was really well done -- it satisfied both myself and my wife (even if, at times, the violence was a bit much for me.)
Trying to label this read is challenging: it's literary, and noir, and a Western; it's pretty and gross at the same time. The characters are so unlikable and yet, absolutely compelling, and despite myself, I cared. Oh, I didn't want to -- I wanted to keep everyone at an arm's length -- but they got under my skin. If you're iffy on violence, you might be inclined to skip this one but if you'd ever consider giving a gruesome book a try, let it be Lonesome Animals. You will be grossed out but the tale spun is mesmerizing. And finally, if you're on the West Coast (especially Oregon), pick this up: the locale is so unlike what I envision the Pacific Northwest so I loved seeing Oregon in this light. The landscape as offered by Holbert is captivating, and I confess, I'd love this to be a film because I can only imagine how staggering the cinematography would be. (less)
I love reading novels for the armchair escape and the free history lesson. In this case, the Greek city of Thessaloniki is the setting of The Thread,...moreI love reading novels for the armchair escape and the free history lesson. In this case, the Greek city of Thessaloniki is the setting of The Thread, and one couple's lifelong relationship the columns for holding up this saga-ish look at love, family, national identity, belonging, loss, and war.
Starting in 2007, a beloved grandson finally learns just how his grandparents met and what their lives were like. Normally I hate this frame -- why not just start with the meat of the story? -- but in this case, it worked for me. Hislop is skilled at conveying a foreign world in a way that resonates and feels ... not familiar so much as seen -- as if in a film or photo series. I've never been to Thessaloniki (hadn't heard of it, actually!) but in her story, this was a city I fell in love with, broke my heart over, and dreamed of visiting. Once a vibrant multi-religious setting of culture and commerce, a fire in 1917 razes much of the city, and the armies of World War I and II finish the job. The story doesn't end there, though; through our couple, we follow Greece through another forty years or so of change and their own responses to that.
There's romance, obviously, but as we know from the start of the novel that the couple stays together, the meat of the story for me wasn't the will-they-won't-they but how would they weather such violence and striking change. Their love of place influenced me and I loved Thessaloniki, and had my own complicated feelings about how the city evolved over the nearly one hundred years the novel covers.
If you're a fan of WWI or WWII fic, grab this one -- the Greek setting was interesting for me -- and anyone who likes a good family saga should give this one a try. I immediately thought of book clubs for this one -- at 400 pages it is a bit chunky but I raced through the story (although I made myself slow down to savor) and there's a wealth of themes for discussion.(less)
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride for free, says my wife when I'm sighing about something, and she lobbed this one at me recently when I start...moreIf wishes were horses, beggars would ride for free, says my wife when I'm sighing about something, and she lobbed this one at me recently when I started sighing about this book. I went something like, 'I wish this book would...' -- which unfortunately is a feeling that stayed with me the entire time I was reading.
In this Olympic season, John's novel is particularly timely and I was pretty eager to start it. I'm fascinated by the 1936 Olympics and the pageantry, lies, and horrors involved, and so I was disappointed to discover that the novel's focus shifts fairly quickly away from the Olympics once our heroine is booted from the US Team due to wild behavior on the trip to Germany.
In brief, this novel follows Eleanor Emerson, socialite, wife of a jazz musician, and Olympic athlete, who takes up journalism after her aforementioned antics cause her to be kicked off the US Olympic Team. At the same time, British journalist Richard Denham struggles with his conscience and work contract when it comes to covering the 1936 Berlin Olympics. The two meet, fall for each other, get snarled in a conspiracy involving a top secret dossier about Hitler, and end up on the Hindenberg.
This isn't a bad novel, don't get me wrong, it just wasn't what I wanted it to be, and since I had some knowledge of what John featured in this novel, the story and plot and historical shading just felt too topical. For someone who is unfamiliar with this facet of Nazi Germany, I think this novel will be very gasp-inducing ('That didn't really happen, did it?!', etc.). The writing is nice, straight-forward, not overly detailed (at times, a little too tell-not-show for my tastes, actually), and the cast is manageable. A fast read with enough historical weight to keep it from being too fluffy. John's inclusion of resources he used provided me with a longer TBR as I wanted to get into the meaty details that inspired him.(less)
I'm of two minds about this book but I think in the end I can say I enjoyed it. Camilla, a 19 year old orphan, was raised by a Chinese gangster to be...moreI'm of two minds about this book but I think in the end I can say I enjoyed it. Camilla, a 19 year old orphan, was raised by a Chinese gangster to be the mistress of his rival -- in hopes that Camilla can lead the man to ruin and death. Beautiful, a talented singer, ruthless, and emotionless, Camilla flourishes in Shanghai amid wealth, decadence, violence, and intrigue -- until she meets Shadow, a beautiful and talented magician and illusionist who vies for her seat in Shanghai royalty.
The title comes from a phrase tossed at women like Camilla, either a curse or a compliment: 'skeleton women' are women who drive men to death, bleed them dry, leave them empty like skeletons.
Yip employs an artificial, coy writing style for Camilla that mimics the ornate, flattering way she flirts with her gangster lover. I mostly enjoyed it -- the narrative is peppered with the aphorisms and wise sayings she takes to heart, the stratagems of Sun Tzu (Sunzi in this book) she studies -- but now and then, it felt childish and awkward.
I didn't feel much for Camilla, neither like nor dislike; as Camilla often tells us, she was trained not to have feelings but as a result, I didn't have any for her in return. I read along, interested enough, but not invested, even when I could tell Camilla was thawing, having feelings, making decisions from the heart -- but it was a little too late (for me at least).
My jacket blurb doesn't mention the 1930s and had I not read it elsewhere, I don't think I could say this was a historical novel necessarily. Perhaps the lack of cell phones clued me in that it wasn't contemporary, but otherwise, I don't think there's a strong historical emphasis. Those wanting a very evocative sense-of-place might not find it here.
Rereading what I've written makes it sound like I had many problems with this book, which I guess I did -- I've only noticed it now that I'm having to respond. While reading, I raced through it, entertained, and I'm curious about Yip's other novels.(less)
I fell in love with Melanie Benjamin's first novel, Alice I Have Been -- it was emotional and a bit raw, it made human this nearly mythological figur...more I fell in love with Melanie Benjamin's first novel, Alice I Have Been -- it was emotional and a bit raw, it made human this nearly mythological figure (Alice Liddell) -- and so I have been a slavish fangirl since. Which is why, as I'm no Lindbergh fan, I still went into this book with some excitement, curious about how Benjamin would handle Lindbergh's politics and later-in-life choices.
If you don't know much about Charles Lindbergh beyond his famous flight on The Spirit of Saint Louis, that won't be an impediment here. You can learn about him in much the same way his wife Anne Morrow did, by simply spending some time with him.
The novel opens in the 1970s, with Anne facing her dying husband and the proof of his last selfish acts. As she struggles to make peace with with the man, the story flashes back to their marriage, beginning in 1927 when Anne met Charles.
Anne Morrow was the daughter of an American banker who later became an ambassador. A student at Smith -- like her sister, like her mother -- Anne was the mousy, quiet, invisible Morrow. Her older brother Dwight was the Morrow heir; her older sister Elizabeth was golden and clever. Her younger sister Con was the baby, all excitement and enthusiasm. But Anne seemed to offer nothing of note until her surprise engagement to famed aviator Charles Lindbergh.
Their marriage propelled Anne into a world of stardom and fame unseen, Benjamin suggests, until Princess Diana. Chased by the press and public alike, Charles and Anne had to dress in disguises to go out and hire security guards for their homes. Worse, perhaps, was their marriage, full of expectations as well. Charles challenged Anne to be his co-pilot and crew, and she became a licensed pilot and radio operator, breaking records on her own. Yet her fame really lay, of course, in her connection with Charles. Their marriage becomes seriously fractured in 1932 when their 20-month old baby was kidnapped, and to my surprise, Anne's story didn't stop there. (Forty more years of things happen, but I'm not going to summarize them -- you'll want to see how things shake out here.)
Benjamin is a star at biographical historical fiction. She wrestles with the historical record and evokes people who are real, who answer to the choices we know they made. And while I might be dubious of Anne Morrow Lindbergh and seriously judge her as a person, I feel like I got a glimpse of who she was -- and I couldn't shake her. (Although I suppose my only critique -- and this is totally emotional knee jerk stuff -- is that I thought Benjamin was too much of an apologist, voicing for Anne an acknowledgment of Charles' dangerous political beliefs even though, in her lifetime, she made no noise of dissent or disagreement.)
As with Alice I Have Been, I was struck by Benjamin's ability to convey the both the mores and societal attitudes of the time as well as critique of those expectations and behaviors without feeling anachronistic or didactic. (less)
It is 1934 in Cascade, Massachusetts, a small town in the western part of the state. Picturesque, bucolic, it was once a thriving summer vacation spot...moreIt is 1934 in Cascade, Massachusetts, a small town in the western part of the state. Picturesque, bucolic, it was once a thriving summer vacation spot, with a gorgeous Shakespearean theater managed by the big-hearted, passionate William Hart. Then the crash happened, the Depression hit, and like everywhere in the U.S., Cascade started going through hard times.
For Desdemona Hart Spaulding, talented daughter of William, her sacrifice to survive came in exchange for her happiness. An artist who trained in Boston and New York City, she married Cascade-native Asa Spaulding, a mild pharmacist who wanted nothing more than to settle down and have many babies. Dez, afraid for her ailing father and his now-shuttered theater, married in hopes of saving what she could -- her remaining family -- only to lose that two months later. Against that bitter loss came additional heartbreak: that Cascade was in competition with another small town to be leveled for a reservoir. Just when things couldn't possibly make Dez's life more agonizing, she meets Jacob Solomon, a Jewish artist who evokes in her deep passion and reminds her of the life she once thought she'd live.
This is the novel's opening -- we learn all this in the first few chapters. This gutting, beautiful, emotional setting spills into a story far more complicated and rich than I initially thought. I anticipated a historical novel with a love triangle; and there is that, the history, and the triangle, but there's more, too. There's the conflict of obligation to one's self, one's family, one's reputation, one's hometown; the very real march of progress and of war. In small town Cascade, one's reputation is a major currency, and Dez, Asa, and Jacob all feel the brunt of their town's changing and shifting opinion of them.
There's tragedy and betrayal and romance on a Shakespearean scale, and Dez is a complicated, maddening, honorable, childish, and beautiful heroine. I liked her and felt angry with her in equal part, but O'Hara wrote Dez so well that even when I wanted to shake her, I still wanted to hug her. I appreciated where her choices came from; I felt like I really knew her.
This is a historical novel of place -- a small-town during the Depression, a beloved landmark in danger of destruction -- and a romance -- star-crossed lovers -- as well as a snapshot of wartime America in the '30s and '40s -- national prejudices, fears, patriotism, the New Deal. O'Hara's writing is beautiful -- simple and sparse, but not thin -- and I lingered over this novel because I was so unwilling for it to end. This is O'Hara's first novel and it has ensured I am going to be a slavish fangirl of hers.(less)
If I didn't have to read this book for review, I would have stopped 60 pages in and we would have parted friends. This book is just not my thing -- no...moreIf I didn't have to read this book for review, I would have stopped 60 pages in and we would have parted friends. This book is just not my thing -- not my genre, or my writing style, or my plot -- so it didn't work for me, but I don't think that should be a knock against this book.
The blackberry winter of the title refers to spring snowstorms that hit now and then. In 1933, a May snowstorm brings Seattle to a halt. Vera Ray, single mother, maid in Seattle's most glamorous hotel, leaves her three-year old son for the night to complete her shift. Upon returning home, her son is gone -- missing -- but despite her efforts, the police believe he's simply a runaway who will return when he's hungry. In 2010, Claire, a features reporter for a Seattle newspaper, struggles to deal with her depression following a tragic accident as her marriage unravels. A freak May snowstorm leads her to discover the mystery of Vera's missing son, and she becomes consumed with finding out what really happened.
Both Vera and Claire are women grappling with tragedy -- Vera's more immediately, Claire's lingering and festering -- as well as their place next to Seattle's rich elite. Vera's lover -- the father of her son -- is a Seattle scion and Claire's husband is the handsome, charming heir of a Seattle newspaper dynasty. Unsurprisingly, they're connected, and depending on your enthusiasm for solving mysteries, you may or may not guess early on the 'twist'. (I guessed, but I was feeling a little surly.)
There's a love triangle, familial drama, social commentary, improbable coincidences, lots of armchair travel around Seattle, a great need for grownups to use their big kid words and just have a bloody conversation, very brisk storytelling (no maudlin dwelling, happily!), beloved heroines and villain-y villains.
The emotions are big and easy to understand and the resolution just as obvious, but in some ways, that's what is great about this book. You go into it knowing what you're going to get, and Jio's writing is fast and full enough to suck one in. I read this in a day and a half -- it's not breakneck but there is a sense of momentum, questions the reader needs answered -- and Jio's skill is in creating that tension without a ton of lead up. We're plunged into the drama, both Vera's and Claire's, and whatever quibbles I had about the characters and their life choices, Jio doesn't let passivity move the story along.
Seattle lovers, and those who like place as character should get this, as Jio's juxtaposition of Seattle -- 1933 and 2010 -- was wonderful and interesting. Perhaps my favorite part of the story -- it made me wish I could tour the city this weekend and check out the sites she mentioned.(less)
I am seriously not ready for this trilogy to end. I actually feel melancholy, reluctant to start another book for fear of losing the 'taste' of the no...moreI am seriously not ready for this trilogy to end. I actually feel melancholy, reluctant to start another book for fear of losing the 'taste' of the novel. (For recaps, see my reviews of the first novel, The Passing Bells, and the second novel, Circles of Time.)
The novel opens similarly to the first book, The Passing Bells, with Lord Stanmore getting dressed for the day, and my heart lifted -- until the scene changed to sadness with the death of a tertiary character. With that mood established, Rock's final novel is a bounce between familiarity, bittersweet loss, and heady hope.
Seven years have passed between the end of the second novel and the start of this one. Those who wanted more time with the 'original' cast might feel some loss at the shifting direction -- I will admit I initially was disappointed -- but the twining connection between the 'new' cast and the other characters, as well as Rock's wonderful writing, sucked me in and I no longer mourned the shifting focus.
This book has the largest scope -- ten years -- from 1930 through 1940 and in that sense, I think it felt a bit rushed. Rock covered six years in The Passing Bells but conveyed, I thought, the unending grind of trench warfare rather well without losing the reader. I felt the two years covered in the second book was too little -- even though the page length was the same as the first novel! (What can I say, I just want more!) Still, this isn't an unsatisfying story: threads are tied up, characters come to some concluding arc (whether I like it or not!), and the Grevilles and their beloved Abington Pryory continue to live on, changed.
Our intrepid American reporter Martin is still the moral 'voice' of the novel; his interest in European politics and experience as a war reporter allow him to be a bit of an oracle or Greek chorus here, hinting at what we know will come. Fenton Wood-Lacey, still in the military, returns to the same battlefields where he fought during World War I, again fighting Germany. His daughters are now vibrant and passionate young women, hungry for their own victories, infatuated with soldiers the way the characters from the first novel were. Lord and Lady Stanmore, the Greville patriarchs, clinging to the past as much as they grab for the future, keep their beloved Abingdon Pryory as their seat. Rock doesn't forget the working class either: the brother of one of the Greville house maids becomes a main character, eager to change his fortunes the way he saw his sister change hers.
As with his previous novels, Rock articulates so well the societal shifts in behavior, attitudes, and mores -- and the ways parts of society haven't changed. There's a seen where a character decides to marry a divorcee, and Lady Standmore has to have a frank conversation with the woman about how, pre-war, this marriage would have never happened and how, even now, some society will never accept her. It is in this world that the children bristle -- having grown up in a post-war era of parties, blatant sexuality, explosive politics, economic boom -- and just as they hurtle into adulthood, war approaches. The bookending of these two conflicts is wonderful/upsetting/moving/cinematic/exciting/so ridiculously sad, and I love/hate Rock for doing so.
The ending was lovely, a note of hope, but I still got teary just remembering all the losses and changes that the characters experienced. (I'm getting a tiny bit teary right now!) This trilogy definitely makes my top ten for this year -- these books were everything I love about reading -- and I feel the absence of my favorite characters now that I'm done. I anticipate a reread of these books -- they're that kind of read -- and I hope this trilogy enters into the canon of 'classic' historical fiction.(less)
I love a good mystery series for the mix of new and familiar: the return to characters I know and enjoy, settings and eras that are appealing and made...moreI love a good mystery series for the mix of new and familiar: the return to characters I know and enjoy, settings and eras that are appealing and made different with new crimes, perhaps new tidbits about my beloved detectives and crime stoppers. Nicola Upson's series featuring 1930s mystery novelist Josephine Tey is a new favorite -- in 2011, I reviewed Two For Sorrow, and was taken with Tey, Upson's lovely writing style, and the dark moodiness of the locale and crime.
(A note about the heroine: Josephine Tey is a real-life author of mystery novels from the 1930s. Tey is the pseudonym for Elizabeth Mackintosh, a very mysterious and shadowy writer. I don't know if Upson's articulation of Tey is meant to be a reflection of Mackintosh or if she's styling her Tey as a person independent of Mackintosh, so if you're me, try not to assume Tey's sapphic inclinations are historical fact.)
The setting of this book is almost the polar opposite of Two For Sorrow -- a sunshine-y resort in Wales, Hitchock and movies, the golden glitz of birthdays and celebrities -- and yet, underneath is the same dark sadness, moodiness, and bittersweet mix of loss and longing I found so appealing.
That sense of bittersweet loss was evident from the first page, in 1954, when we learn our heroine, Josephine Tey, is dead. (I was so stunned I reread this page about a dozen times before deciding to trust Upson and see what was going on.) Tey's friend, Detective Archie Penrose, has been asked to consult on a series of murders in Hollywood that might be connected to a series of murders from 1936. The connection: both happened on Alfred Hitchcock's film sets and were possibly committed by the same person -- despite the fact the 1936s murders were considered solved.
Upson takes us back to that summer. Tey, celebrating her 40th birthday, is considering selling her newest mystery to Hitchcock, and is vacationing at Portmeirion, a planned resort on the coast of Wales. Archie has joined her as well as a coterie of friends and acquaintances, including a woman for whom she has complicated emotional feelings. Hitchcock and his wife Alma are staying there as well, with a gaggle of actors and film crew, observed by the locals who work and live around the resort. Quickly, things turn tense: Hitchcock is a cruel practical joker and a prank of his goes to far; a murder victim turns up and quickly the mood on the resort turns from nervous and excited to anxious and angry. Tey struggles with her romantic feelings for a woman -- and all that implies -- while Archie finds his own romance.
The feel of this story is a bit of 1950s Hollywood noir meets Agatha Christie's closed room English murder mysteries. (Perhaps even reminiscent of Tey's novels but I've never read them.) While I can't wholly endorse this one as a standalone I do think those who are interested in Hitchcock will enjoy this one and could read it outside of the series. Upson has done personal interviews with those who knew Hitchcock and this novel is full of gossip-y tidbits about what the man was like, his gifted wife Alma Reville, and what on-set life was like with the famed director. The insight into the British film industry in the 1930s was also fascinating. Upson shifts from character to character which is both fun -- you see the whole story unfold -- but also slightly maddening, as I wanted very much to just settle down with Tey and know exactly what she's thinking and feeling!
I finished this one quickly -- it reads fast -- and I will admit to being panicked that this was the last Tey novel Upson had planned. Thankfully, her website says one will be coming out at the end of this summer. (Whew!) I know there are many novels set during this era, but what I enjoy about Upson's series is her heroine -- this smart, chic, pragmatic author -- and the setting -- the eve of World War II, in a way, Britain in the years leading up to the war. There's a mix of glamor and grit I find appealing and as I mentioned before, a lingering sort of melancholy I can't resist.
(Also, this book introduced me to HarperCollins' new mystery imprint, Bourbon Street Books. They'll be re-iussing the Lord Peter Wimsey books by Dorothy L. Sayers!)(less)
I have long wanted to read Zafón's novels; everyone I know raves about The Shadow of the Wind. This is the third book in Zafón's quartet, and the boo...more I have long wanted to read Zafón's novels; everyone I know raves about The Shadow of the Wind. This is the third book in Zafón's quartet, and the book opens with a promise that each book can be read as a standalone, and in any order. I hear that about almost all books in a series, so I was dubious, but I inhaled this book without any confusion.
This is a book lover's book, a novel with a story-in-a-story motif, vibrant characters -- including villainous villains -- and evocative locales. Opening Christmas 1957 in Barcelona, Spain, we follow Daniel Sempere, who runs a family bookstore with his father. Amid anxieties about a letter to his wife from her ex-fiancee, Daniel is chilled by the arrival of a creepy man who purchases one of the most expensive books in his store, a gorgeous vintage copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. More disturbingly, the stranger dedicates it to Daniel's friend Fermín Romero de Torres, who in turn shares the story of his violent imprisonment during Franco's regime in 1930 -- a story that echoes Dumas' classic tale.
I raced through this book -- it's about 300 pages in paperback, but reads like 150! -- and found myself captivated. Zafón mixes clever black humor -- usually snappy comebacks by the moody Fermín -- with lurid descriptions of prison life. There's almost a magical quality to the story without it going straight to magical realism; a fantasy element without fantasy. Perhaps it's the mood that harkens to Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo -- grandiose adventure, seemingly impossible scenarios, bigger-than-life personalities. I didn't know where this story intersected with the previous two novels but didn't feel like I was missing anything; now I'm eager to read both before the fourth and final book comes out.
Sadly, there's no biography for the translator, Lucia Graves, in my edition. (I'm intensely curious about translators -- they shape a story, intentionally or not!) Graves is the daughter of Robert Graves, and was nominated for an award for her translation of another Zafón book. Particularly intriguing for me is Graves' connection to the setting and era of this book: Graves lived in Majorca during Franco's dictatorship and later, as an adult when first married.
For those new to Zafón, consider this -- fans might not think this is the best one to start with, but as someone who plunged in and came out happy, I think it works! Those who like historical fiction that is a bitterly fun and a little dark will like this -- while it's not The Orphan Master's Son-level of black comedy, it's up there, so if you enjoyed that one, you'll like this too!(less)
I was interested in this book because my paternal grandmother's family were Sicilians who ended up in West Virginia and western Maryland coal country....moreI was interested in this book because my paternal grandmother's family were Sicilians who ended up in West Virginia and western Maryland coal country. We're a taciturn people on my father's side of the family; my wife and sister-in-law marvel at the long, drawn out conversations we have about weather -- the current weather, the past weather, the weather to come -- but for my brother and I, that's just how you communicate with those relatives.
My wife and sister-in-law, being bolder, nosier people who didn't get the memo that one talks about the weather, are unabashed questioners, a trait I've come to deeply appreciate as they've elicited some of the loveliest and surprising stories from that side of the family. Unfortunately, my grandmother passed away after she and my wife met only once, and that brief glimpse into her family's life was eye-opening and fascinating. It's one of my greatest regrets I didn't get to talk to her about more than the weather.
In some ways, this book felt like I got a chance to continue that conversation.
Spanning almost fifty years, from 1924 to 1973, this novel is a collection of vignettes following a West Virginia family. Emma, a 16-year old Sicilian immigrant, loathes her mother's joyless existence and marries impetuously. Caleb, her new husband, works for the railroads and has a generous but drifting kind of focus that emerges even more strongly in his son Dean. Tragedy forces Dean from his family's land and upon his return, his devotion to the ground, the earth, the animals, and even the people he crosses creates joy and anguish in equal part. His daughter comes of age when her immigrant Italian relatives are old and frightening and the lure of the world outside of her family's property lines calls her more than her family's link to the land.
Tekulve's writing style is pretty, poetic, but not ornate or obfuscated. Each chapter feels like a self-contained short story in many ways; together, they show the arc of a family and place, but individually, there's a brilliant, bright, or blinding moment that stings or illuminates. I got the sense that some of the pieces were composed independently of the volume: Tekulve occasionally repeats an incident or a particular turn of phrase from one story in another, as if trying to offer context to a chapter were it removed from the collection. I didn't mind the repetition as it sort of emphasized the almost fairy tale quality to the family: fatherless children, magical gardens, temptations.
The familiarity of Tekulve's characters and place resonated with me as much as the writing. She articulated the nuances of rural poverty that felt authentic rather than shocking or exploitative. In her description of the Sypher family property, with the creeks and trees, random cabins, farm animals semi-feral, men obsessively working the land -- hauling, pulling, cutting, chopping -- I was reminded of my grandfather, father, and even now, my brother. (A trip to see that part of the family isn't complete without something being hauled, a cabin or milk house explored.)
I will admit to laughing a few times Tekulve's characters remarked on the West Virginia landscape as resembling Sicily; my family was stationed in Sicily for a few years when I was a child, and the country was gripped in a terrible drought the entire time we were there. My memory of Sicily is of a dry, stony, yellowed place, scrub and withering trees rather than the sort of verdant hilliness I associate with West Virginia. It wasn't until a few years ago when traveling in the Mediterranean did I see Sicily as it usually is -- fresh, green, hilly but alive -- but I still can't shake the sense of it as I knew it.
The vignette-y style reminded me immediately of Jennifer Haigh's Baker Towers and Ursula Hegi's Floating in My Mother's Palm, so readers who enjoy those kind of family sagas will enjoy this volume (grandmother with Sicilian background not needed). Highly recommended for fans of immigrant stories and rural American life in the first half of the 20th century.(less)
Audra (Unabridged Chick)
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