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AMERICAN EMPRESS by Nancy Rubin ~ A Book Review

Marjorie Merriweather Post (1887-1973) led a long and interesting life that encompassed two world wars, three daughters and four marriages. I generally do not enjoy reading biography as too often it can be a dry recital of the trivia of someone’s life, but I have to say that Nancy Rubin in her biography of Mrs. Post, titled AMERICAN EMPRESS, has done a wonderful job in making it interesting. There was much I did not know about Mrs. Post. I didn’t realize that she grew up in Battle Creek Michigan, or that her father was an entrepreneur. All I knew about her was her wonderful collection of Russian porcelain and religious icons that are in the museum that used to be her home, here in Washington DC.

It is odd to reflect now, here in the 21st century, how people used to rush into marriage. Mrs. Post was married four times. I could understand why she married Edward Close (she was only eighteen), E. F. Hutton (he was the love of her life) and Joe Davies (he was interesting), but I must say I didn’t see the point of her marriage to Herbert May. But then women were made to feel that they couldn’t go out if they didn’t have some sort of male companion, and although her daughters encouraged her not to marry her male escorts, she herself was of an era when rigid notions of male-female relations prevailed.

Marjorie never did have much luck with husbands. She divorced two of them for infidelity, and the other two because, in their different ways, they cramped her style. Many of her friends speculated about why she was never happy for long in her marriages.

One of her friends remarked, “Marjorie, you could run General Motors. You could run U.S. Steel. You could run anything. You’re the smartest woman I know. But why do you have so much trouble with husbands?”
“Clare, I honestly don’t know. Ain’t it hell?” Marjorie is reported to have replied.

But the answer of course is that from the fact that you have formidable organizational skills and a steel-trap mind – as Marjorie did – it doesn’t at all follow that you will have a happy marriage. Because what is needed is a totally different kind of intelligence, what we now refer to as EQ or emotional intelligence.

This is not to say that Marjorie didn’t have any EQ – she had good relationships with all three of her daughters – but she didn’t have enough of it to offset all of her millions.

Because those millions, in my opinion, lay at the heart of all of her problems with her husbands.

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THE WITNESS AT THE WEDDING ~ Fethering Mysteries #6 ~ by Simon Brett

Finally, Carole Seddon has something to make her happy. Her son Stephen ~ with whom she has an awkward relationship ~ has announced his engagement, and his wife-to-be is someone that Carole not only approves of, but actually likes!

For those of you who do not know, Carole Seddon is a well-off matron in her fifties, who is neurotic in a typically British sort of way. Not for her all those messy emotions surrounding her relationship with her son, and her painful breakfup with her ex. No, this thin-skinned woman uses WILLPOWER to SQUASH all of her irritating FEELINGS. 

And so, of course, they come back to bite her at suitably inappropriate moments.

Then Gabby comes into her world. The young woman is well-educated, charming, and poised, and it is clear that Stephen adores her. Plans for the wedding are set in motion. But then things, inevitably, start to go wrong.

Gabby becomes ill. She is plagued by serious back pain, and at times looks exhausted, so at odds with the bubbly girl that Carole first met. When Carole meets her parents, it is clear that something is not right. Father Howard is a perfectly pleasant man who would contribute more to the conversation if he were not so deaf. But what about Marie, Gabby’s French mother? Why is she so quiet? Why so self-effacing to the point of being invisible? Why does she look terrified? What can possibly upset her so much?

It turns out that the answer is, as so often, The Past.

Gabby’s family has had its share of tragedies, including a murder that happened thrity years ago. The young woman was Marie’s best friend, and since her murder Marie has never been the same. For, surprisingly enough, Marie was just as bubbly and full of life as her daughter is now.

Carole is concerned. She has genuinely become very fond of Gabby, and senses that the past is swirling around her duaghter-in-law-to-be in a sinister fashion. And so she consults next-door-neighbor Jude. 

What the two women find is not only who was responsible for the murder, but a chilling tale of wreckage that includes wrongful imprisonment, manipulation, and secrets. 

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Adventures in Firenze & Torino 2012

As a young woman, I suffered from crippling anxiety, and was not able to finally free myself from that condition until I turned fifty.

In 2012, I had the opportunity to visit the City of Florence and luckily for me, my best friend Pam was there at the same time. She wanted to visit the famous Duomo and while there we were invited (for some extra money) to climb up to the top of the Duomo. Pam was game to go, so I took a deep breath and followed her up the stairs.

At the beginning, it wasn’t bad. We took stairs that were inside the cathedral and as we rose higher and higher, we were able to see the magnificent paintings on the ceiling of the dome. At that point the stairs changed and we started to climb up inside the dome. This being Italy, there was (of course) no one-way system, meaning that those going up were having to negotiate with those going down. Naturally my heart began to flutter, the unfortunate signs of a panic attack. 

But I took more deep breaths and eventually Pam and I found ourselves able to walk around the outside of the dome. It was a magnificent May day (I think it was May 10th) and I took a whole bunch of photos of Firence and the surrounding countryside. My favorite picture is of the bell-tower or Campanile which is on the image.

Eventually, Pam and I descended to the street level, I thrilled that I’d actually made it all the way up there without suffering from claustrophia, vertigo or a panic attack. I couldn’t have made that climb without her.

A few days later, I made my way to Turin, home of the 2006 Winter Olympics. On my collage, you can also see the Mole Antonelliana, the symbol of Turin, which started life as a synagogue and is now the Museum of Film.

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A SONG TO DROWN RIVERS by Ann Liang ~ A Book Review

I was already amazed by the beautiful prose and the richness of the characters in A SONG TO DROWN RIVERS, so I was curious. Who is the author?

Turns out that Ann Liang has a page in Wikipedia dedicated to her. She is described as a Chinese-Australian author, who was born in 2000. That makes her only 24. How could she possibly write so well about grief and tragedy?

But then, Ms. Liang has probably not had the adolescenese of many Americans. She has probably not spent her time getting wasted at parties. Not because there aren’t any such things in Beijing China, but because she has been too busy writing. Already she has THREE YA books under her belt ~ IF YOU COULD SEE THE SUN, THIS TIME IT’S REAL and I HOPE THIS DOESN’T FIND YOU. 

A SONG TO DROWN RIVERS is her first foray into adult fiction. It is a retelling of the Legend of Xishi (pronounced ZEE-shuh), one of the Famous Four Beauties of the Spring and Autumn period. Set in the Fifth Century BCE, it tells the story of a great beauty who acted as a spy at the court of King Fuchai of the Kingdom of Wu. Xishi is from Yue, a rival kingdom to the south, and her goal is to destroy Wu, so that King Goujian of the Yue can take it over. This actually happened in 473 BCE. What became of Xishi after she’d completed her task is unknown. But I think you will find the end of this volume shocking. Five Stars. 

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Adventures in Germany 2012

During 2012, I explored Germany for the first time in many years. I had previously been there thirty years before for a honeymoon with my first husband who spoke fluent German. This time, I went by myself and took the opportunity to explore Dresden and the Sächisiche Schweiz (Saxon Switzerland) a charmingly hilly region right up against the Czech Republic.

I speak what I call Hotel German, which means that I know enough to exchange greetings and ask for a bar of soap. But I cannot hold a conversation with anyone. There I was, by myself, trying to figure out what the train fare was from Dresden to Pirna, so that I could get on the little tram that took us sightseeing in the Saxon Alps. But of course, it was all in German. So I bought a ticket that I thought was right, and boarded the train.

Oh dear, what trouble I got myself into! The female guard was not at all happy with me once she figured out that I had underpaid for my ticket. She stood there, glaring at me while she let loose her tirade. As I mentioned before, I know only a very little German. So Ii was unable to understand what she was saying (fortunately.) But it was obvious that she was very upset with me. 

Once she paused to draw breath, a man behind me raised his hand, and they got into a more moderate exchange. After they’d finished talking, he came and sat down beside me and explained – in perfect English – what I had done wrong. Apparently he had promised the guard that he would get off the train with me in Pirna, escort me to the nearest ticket machine, and make sure that I paid the full amount.  

I smiled sweetly, and told him that of course I would do that. 

And so it was. He led me to the ticket machine at Pirna, ensured that I paid the difference, said “goodbye” and wandered off.

I can’t think of any other country where this would happen. But perhaps I am wrong? Do you have any amusing stories to share about travel mishaps?

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THE DUKE’S LAST HUNT by Roseanna E. Lortz ~ A Book Review

Two brother, Rufus the Lord of the Manor, and Henry the penniless younger one, set off hunting one day. Someone shoots Rufus dead, and Henry inherits the title.

In 1100, nobody asked awkward questions about Henry’s motivation. Now that he was Henry I of England, no sensible man would question how he ascended the throne. Besides, his elder brother William II Rufus was a scoundrel, and so mayhap things would be better under King Henry.

In the early 1800s, during the time of Jane Austen, things were not quite so easy for younger brother Henry Rowland. His elder brother Rufus Rowland, the Duke of Brockenhurst has been murdered. Two shots were fired. And how come the front of the Duke’s body is mired with soil that is identical to that found outside the Parish Church, when he is found in a forest clearing?

Bow-Street Runner Jacob Pevensey arrives on the scene to ask awkward questions, and Henry is the prime suspect. If he is found guilty, he will hang.

Thus Roseanna E. Lortz’s Second Pevensy Mystery again takes its inspiration from events that occured in the eleventh century, transposing them to the time of Jane Austen. I loved the character transformation of heroine Eliza Malcolm, who finds her voice by the end of this volume. Her strong-minded mother, weak father, and the two brothers Rowland jump off the page and make this tale extremely convinciing. If you love Regency Romance, you should definitely try this one. 

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Adventures in Sicily 2012

It was with a great deal of trepidation that I stepped onto the train at Milano Centrale for the ride south to Sicily. I come from Northern Europe and look it, with my pale skin, blond-ish hair and light eyes. So I knew I was going to stick out like a sore thumb in a place like Sicily. Added to that was the fact that many guide books warned women traveling alone to be wary of Italian men, who, I was told, would take one look at me and conclude that I had come all the way to Sicily to have a romance with them. 

The thought made me cringe. 

And so I made sure to bring a wardrobe of long skirts, jewel necks and long sleeves.

I hadn’t expected the journey to be so long. I hadn’t expected to have to change trains in Rome from a sleek modern commuter train, to a rackety old-fashioned number, where the only place to put your suitcases was in the rack above the seats. Fortunately, I was sitting in a carriage with a polite young man who helped me. 

That was the other thing that bothered me – young men. Last time I was in Italy, I was in my twenties and couldn’t sit on a park bench without being bothered. But by this time, I was old enough to be this young man’s mother, and he treated me with great respect. We fell into a conversation, and because he was so friendly, I confided my worries to him. What did he think of my outfit? Did it look respectable enough? He assured me I looked fine, and that many women in Sicily felt comfortable enough to wear modern clothes.

And that is how my visit turned out to be. The young men I met were universally charming and polite, eager to practice their English on me. The problem that I had was with older Italian men, those around my own age. Even though I claimed to be sessanta (sixty) and the one who was chatting me up said he was only fifty-four, it was a little difficult to get rid of them. But I came to no harm, and have wonderful memories of this jewel of an island. 

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O IS FOR OUTLAW by Sue Grafton ~ A Book Review

One of the things that keeps this series so compelling is the character of Kinsey Milhone. She has such a voice, such a presence on the page, she is hard to forget. And yet, we don’t know much about her. 

Over the last 14 books, we’ve heard about her parents’ tragic deaths, Aunt Gin who raised her, the fancy part of her family who live up the coast, and Husband Number Two.

This time, we learn about Husband Number One, the Outlaw of this title.

Author Sue Grafton writes with such empathy about this relationship that began and ended over less than a year when Kinsey was in her early twenties. When she walked out the door, Kinsey hated her ex. But it turns out that she still cares about him, fourteen years later, for when she hears that he has been badly wounded she is extremely upset, more than she would have believed possible.

And so Kinsey sets out to piece together her ex-husband’s life – they haven’t spoken in fourteen years – and finds out that she was wrong about him, in some crucial ways.

If you love Sue Grafton, and especially is you love Kinsey Millhone, you will enjoy this cleverly-told tale. Five Stars. 

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THE HANGING IN THE HOTEL ~ FETHERING #5 ~ by Simon Brett

If you haven’t discovered Simon Brett yet, and you are British or an Anglophile, you really should. For not only does Brett write compelling cozies, but his stories are hilarious send-ups of Britishness.

In this volume, The Hanging in the Hotel (Number 5 of the Fethering Mysteries), Jude is forced to dress up as an Edwardian maid-servant, complete with a rather anachronistic mob cap (fashionable in the 18th-century rather than the 19th century) to help out best friend Susie, who owns a posh hotel called The Hopwicke Country House Hotel. Naturally, Jude finds a body, this time of a young man who is hung from a four-poster bed. Rather too quickly, everyone assumes that he has committed suicide. And by everyone I mean the police, the staff at the hotel and the members of the rather phallic-sounding Pillars of Sussex, an all-male group who justify their existence by their charitable works, when their real purpose is to drink way too much and tell off-color jokes about women.

And so Jude is suspicious. It all seems too convenient. And so she enlists the help of next-door neighbor Carole Seddon, an overly-fussy and rather rigid retiree, who used to work for the Home Office. Carole’s son Stephen is finally getting married and (gasp!) Carole discovers that she actually likes her son’s fiancée. The two women persist in their efforts, which include Carole indulging in a rather out-of-character flirtation with a local solicitor, all to extract information from him about the murder of the poor young man.

With glimpses into the lives of the extremely wealthy during the time of Tony Blair’s New Labour, and hilarious character-sketches of the kind of “womenfolk” who marry powerful men, this is yet another novel of manners, which draws a scathing portrait of the too-wealthy, too-smug and too-pretentious. 

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Adventures in the Lake District 2012

Shortly before my mother’s final illness, I went to spend Christmas with her and my sister in the North of England. To celebrate, my sister found a hotel for us to stay in the Lake District for a few nights.

The Lake District in winter is magical. That particular winter gave us a dusting of snow which showed off the beauty of the surrounding countryside. The whiteness of the snow etched in details of tree limbs, hummocky grass and the edges of the water. I cannot now remember exactly where we stayed, but it was one of those English Mansions-turned-hotel. Our room had a lovely view over the lake.

I’ve always remembered that holiday as it was the last time Mum was able to enjoy herself. 

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