Review of THE HEAVEN AND EARTH GROCERY STORE by James McBride

 3.5 Stars

Once again I was disappointed in another much-hyped book.

This novel tells the story of Black and Jewish residents of the Chicken Hill neighbourhood of Pottstown in eastern Pennsylvania in the 1920s and 30s.  At the centre of the story are Moshe Ludlow and his wife Chona.  Moshe is a theatre owner while Chona runs the grocery store, a gathering place for Blacks and immigrant Jews.  The theatre is successful, but the store never makes a profit because Chona allows people to buy so much on credit.  When the state institutionalizes a 12-year-old deaf Black boy named Dodo, the community members join forces to try and save him from Pennhurst, the notoriously abusive mental institution. 

The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store serves as a motif for the theme of building community across cultures.  Chicken Hill, “a tiny area of ramshackle houses and dirt roads where the town’s blacks, Jews, and immigrant whites who couldn’t afford any better lived,” is not without its tensions; even the Jewish families do not get along:  “The Germans and Poles despised one another, and all feared the head of the sole Lithuanian family.”  Nonetheless the divisions among the various groups do not prevent them from working together.  In fact, there is an interdependence among community members.  Moshe, the Jewish theatre owner, has a black man, Nate Timblin, as his assistant.  Both Jewish klezmer musicians and black jazz musicians are featured.  Chona’s best friend is Addie, Nate’s wife.  When Nate’s nephew is threatened, both blacks and Jews work together to rescue him, and the groups also band together to get clean water to the community.  Chona summarizes the message that “one’s tribe cannot be better than another tribe because they were all one tribe.”

The novel portrays the harsh truths about America’s treatment of Black and Jewish citizens.  Though the white man  in the American south “spoke his hatred in clear, clean, concise terms” there is also hatred in Pennsylvania where the white man “hid his hatred behind stores of wisdom and bravado, with the false smiles of sincerity and stories of Jesus Christ and other nonsense that he tossed about like confetti in the Pottstown parade.”  Jews are also second-class citizens:  “the rules of life were laid carefully . . . by stern Europeans who stalked the town and state like the grim reaper, with their righteous churches spouting that Jews murdered their precious Jesus Christ. . . . Americans cared about money.  And power.  And government.  Jews had none of these things; their job was to tread lightly in the land of milk and honey and be thankful that they were free to walk the land without getting their duffs kicked – or worse.”  Of course, there is no acknowledgment that those who rule the country “[live] on stolen land.”

The style of the novel will not appeal to everyone.  The author excels at very lengthy sentences.  For instance, “Now, with their beloved shul a pile of rubble – some of which was marble, having come from a stone quarry in Carrara, Italy, and bought at a ridiculous price by Norman Skrupskelis, since it was to be used for the woman’s mikvah to be named in honor of his late mother, Yvette Hurlbutt Nezefky Skrupskelis, whom no one had ever seen since she died in Europe in a town whose name was so complex that the Germans called it Thumb-in-Your-Nose – the congregation faced its first real crisis.” 

Then there are so many characters, almost like in a Dickens novel, and each, even the minor ones, is given a detailed backstory.  This lack of focus sometimes makes it difficult to know who will be play an important role.  The point of view skips from character to character, though always in the third person.  There are several plots, though they do overlap.  Unfortunately, this means that repetitions do occur.  Digressions are common; for instance, the ancestry of the town’s doctor is traced back to “a manservant for Chinese emperor Chaing Kai Wu in Monashu Province in 1774.”  Some of these tangents seem overly long and purposeless and they affect the pacing.

In fact, I found pacing a problem.  The novel begins slowly and with its digressions feels disconnected and meandering.  Only after the introduction of Dodo is there some feeling of cohesion.  Some characters’ backstories are very detailed, yet Nate’s past is described belatedly and rather vaguely when more information, given Nate’s significance throughout, would be appropriate. 

Then there are the intrusions of a lecturing 21^st-century voice which speaks of the people of Chicken Hill moving “into a future of American nothing.  It was a future they couldn’t quite see, where the richness of all they had brought to the great land of promise would one day be zapped into nothing, the glorious tapestry of their history boiled down to a series of ten-second TV commercials, empty holidays, and sports games filled with the patriotic fluff of red, white, and blue, the celebrants cheering the accompanying dazzle without any idea of the horrible struggles and proud pasts of their forebears.”  This voice continues to describe “an American future that would one day scramble their proud histories like eggs, scattering them among the population while feeding mental junk to the populace on devices . . . that fit in one’s pocket and went zip, zap, and zilch . . . a device that children of the future would clamor for and become addicted to, a device that fed them their oppression disguised as free thought.”  This heavy-handed speechifying is unnecessary. 

This is not a bad book; I just didn’t find it as entertaining and outstanding as many other readers.  I appreciate the author’s writing skill and liked his celebration of cross-cultural solidarity, but I wasn’t left in awe.  Perhaps I shouldn’t admit it, but I find that a lot of American literature is over-hyped so that I inevitably end up disappointed. 

Review of THE BRUTAL TELLING by Louise Penny

 3 Stars

This is the fifth in the Detective Inspector Armand Gamache series.  My verdict, like for the previous four books, is that it’s okay, but not great. 

The body of a stranger is found in the village bistro in Three Pines.  It’s obvious that he was murdered.  Gamache and his team arrive to investigate.  Though Olivier doesn’t admit to knowing him, the reader knows that Olivier visited the man, a hermit, who lived in a cabin in the woods surrounding the village.  When the cabin is located, it is found to be filled with very valuable antiques and collectibles.  All the clues suggest that Olivier is the killer; his lack of truthfulness only adds to his being the main suspect.

The lack of proper procedure stands out.  Gamache shares information with residents of Three Pines, any of whom could be the murderer!  He even lets people have access to evidence!  He manages to obtain a warrant to search every single house in the village.  I’m not a legal expert, but I don’t think that’s how warrants work.  Shouldn’t there be arrests of people who tampered with evidence and impeded the investigation? 

I was irritated by some other issues as well.  No one else other than Olivier is aware of the existence of the cabin?  Gabri, Olivier’s partner, is totally unaware of Olivier’s regular midnight trysts?  Gamache has to take a trip to the West Coast to figure out that the carvings, taken as a whole, tell a story?!  The Caesar code is one of the easiest to decipher and it’s misleading to state that a key word is needed; all someone has to do is to try a shift of one, two, three, etc.  There are only 25 possibilities!  Why would the hermit carve these particular words in two of the carvings; they seem to serve little purpose for the hermit.  Only for the investigators do they have significance?  The man knew he was going to be killed so left the words as clues?  Finally, a successful art dealer is so overtly homophobic?!

There are several unanswered questions in the book, including the identity of the victim.  Having looked at some reviews, it seems that the next book clarifies some of the ambiguities.  If that is indeed the case, then the author did not treat the reader fairly; this seems a cheap tactic to sell more books. 

I’m starting to feel slightly masochistic in continuing to listen to this series.  The promise that the books do get better is not being fulfilled.  I understand that this is a cozier mystery, but the number of unbelievable events is problematic. 

Review of THE MAIDEN OF FLORENCE by Katherine Mezzacappa (New Release)

 3 Stars

This historical fiction book is set in Italy (Florence, Venice and Mantua) in the late 16^th century.

Giulia Albizza, an orphan, is chosen to test the virility of Prince Vincenzo Gonzaga of Mantua before the powerful Florentine de’ Medici family will approve his marriage into the family.  In return for her virginity, Giulia is promised a dowry and a husband.  The de Medici’s minister, Belisario Vinta, picks Giulia from the orphanage and after her meeting with the prince in Venice, finds her a husband, Giuliano Sperati.

Most of the book is narrated in first person by Giulia.  She is almost 50 years of age when she decides to write her story in the form of a letter to her mother whom she never knew.  She writes about her grim life in the orphanage, events leading up to her encounter with the prince, and her life after what was called the Congress of Venice.  There are also some chapters which are readings from Giuliano’s ricordanze. 

The novel emphasizes how women in Renaissance Italy are the pawns of men.   Daughters are the property of their fathers.  If they are unwed, “surplus to the demand for young brides,” they are placed in convents; if they marry, they become the property of their husbands.  A woman is to protect her virginity above all else, yet such considerations are ignored when the interests of powerful men are involved.  Giulia states, “What happened to me was no less than an affair of state.  A mortal sin condoned by cardinals.”  When she is chosen by Vinta, she really has no choice.  Her life in the orphanage is truly miserable:  she is nameless, existing “only because of the bounty of others,” and is unloved.  There will be no reprieve from that life because she is expected to become a nun.  And obviously she is in no position to refuse the wishes of the Grand Duke.  After she fulfills the role for which she has been chosen, she is still at Vinta’s mercy; he, “a great dark bird of prey,” remains a dominant, controlling presence for her entire life.  Despite her lack of agency, Giulia’s reputation is tarnished.  And servants like Deodata and Isabella are really sex slaves. 

Men are allowed to behave in ways that condemn a woman.  Men, especially powerful men, are allowed to have mistresses and illegitimate children; such behaviour is condoned, much less punished.  A rape is described but the victim knows that she will never speak of it because she would never be believed.  In fact, she would be blamed:  “My face and form caused him to sin.”  One gentlewoman who has an unapproved relationship with someone seen as inappropriate causes a great scandal and is harshly punished. 

The book is okay, but I didn’t find myself mesmerized.  I found it slow and it just felt flat; it is interesting but didn’t arouse an emotional response.  The first part, which is apparently quite accurate in historical terms, appealed to me more than the second part which is less grounded in known facts. 

Note:  I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of CROOKED SEEDS by Karen Jennings (New Release)

 3. 5 Stars

A couple of years ago I read Karen Jennings’ novel entitled An Island which was nominated for the 2021 Booker Prize.  I loved it (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2022/01/review-of-island-by-karen-jennings.html) so I was anxious to read her next offering.

Crooked Seeds is set in near-future Cape Town, South Africa, which is experiencing a years-long drought and wildfires.  Fifty-three-year-old Deidre van Deventer lives in a dilapidated public housing complex after her family home was reclaimed by the government.  She is contacted by the police when several bodies, including those of children, are found on the property formerly owned by her family.  In particular, she is questioned about her brother Ross’s associations with a 1990s pro-apartheid group with terrorist leanings.  When she was eighteen, Deidre herself suffered life-altering injuries as a result of a bomb believed to have been built by Ross.  She claims to know nothing, but she is forced to uncover family secrets and question responsibility for the past. 

Deidre is a totally unlikeable character.  She believes she has been denied the life she deserves so is angry, bitter and resentful.  She is both physically and psychologically damaged, but she has options which she chooses not to take, preferring to wallow in self-pity.  She is determined to be seen as a victim in need of sympathy.  She believes the world owes her and so constantly manipulates people to do things for her.  A neighbour mockingly mimics Deidre:  “’”Do this for me, do that for me, help me, help me, I’m a fucking cripple and I can’t do anything for myself.” . . . you are the most selfish person I’ve ever met.’”  When another acquaintance suggests Deidre help out at a charity, she responds with, “’Why would I help anyone else?  I’m the one that needs help,’ she said, poking her chest with a finger.  ‘Me.  Look at me.  I’m the one!’”  Though she does nothing to deserve the help of others, some people do come to her aid but then she shows no genuine gratitude.  In fact, she abuses both herself and others.  Her neighbour questions, “’Are you trying to be unpleasant, tell me?  Is that your plan, to be unpleasant and make everyone dislike you?’”  Because of her choices and unwillingness to take any responsibility for herself, it’s difficult to have sympathy for Deidre.

Of course Deidre’s upbringing, when she was overshadowed by her brother, affected her.  Trudy, Deidre’s mother, always saw Ross as the golden child so her daughter was sidelined:  “He was the one they spoke of.  He the one they returned to again and again, throughout her life.  Even when he had left, even when it should have been her, there he was.”  Trudy tells Deidre, “’It’s just that there are people, like your brother . . . [who] can be just a bit more’” and “’Ross is special, that’s the thing.  He’s special.’”   After the bombing, Ross fled and though some people feel “’he should have been brought back and forced to see what he had done,’” Trudy’s version is different:  “He had been no more than a boy when he was forced to go away.”  Rather than blame Ross, Trudy says, “’I chased away my boy and he never got to have the life he was meant to have.  He never got to live as he should have.’”  Some more attention to her daughter might have meant that an accusation against Deidre wouldn’t be true:  “’She lives across the fucking street and you can’t walk a hundred meters to see your own fucking mother.’” 

The novel is really an allegory.  Just as Deidre is forced to reckon with her family’s past, South Africa must reckon with its history of colonialism and apartheid and address its national and generational trauma and collective guilt.  A policeman tells Deidre, “’the truth has to come out.  To leave the thing alone would have been to deny it and cover it up.’”  The first step to moving forward and making positive change is acknowledging and taking responsibility for the wrongs of the past.  At the end, Deidre feels diseased and wants to remove “all that was rotten within her.”  Fire destroys Table Mountain overlooking Cape Town, leaving “slopes of black and ruin,” but fire can promote seed germination.  The book ends with a glimmer of hope:  “If only the rain would come, just a little bit of rain, to wet the soil, feed the seeds, so that something might grow again.”  Perhaps something better can emerge from what remains. 

The novel is not an easy read.  At times, it is a grinding read because there is little to alleviate its bleakness; in fact, at times I didn’t want to continue.  Its message, however, is worthwhile.  Though the book’s setting is South Africa, its theme applies to other countries; it certainly made me think of my country’s need for truth and reconciliation with our First Nations people. 

Note:  I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of THE QUIET TENANT by Clémence Michallon

 3 Stars

This is a serial killer thriller from a different perspective – that of three women.

Aidan Thomas is an ex-Marine, widower, single father, and serial killer living in the Hudson River valley of New York state.  For five years he has kept a woman captive in a shed.  When forced to move, he takes the woman with him and his daughter Cecilia, telling her that the woman, whom he calls Rachel, is the friend of a friend needing a home.  Once she is ensconced in the house and has met Cecilia, Rachel wonders how she can escape and if she can get Cecilia to help her. 

Rachel is one narrator; her sections are in second person point of view.  This point of view tends to be annoying, but it is appropriate since in a way it indicates how she has been dehumanized.  It also suggests she is addressing her old self, the person she was pre-captivity.  Thirteen-year-old Cecilia is a first-person narrator as is Emily, a lonely bartender romantically attracted to Aidan. 

Aidan’s character development is interesting; he’s definitely a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde figure.  In public he’s charming and seems so normal.  His good looks also help.  He works hard to be liked; he even tells Cecilia, “’It’s easier to go through life if people like you.’”  And he’s successful in convincing people that he’s a good, trustworthy person.  In fact, he’s so popular that townspeople raise money for him after his wife’s death. 

Of course we also see his dark side.  He has killed several women, each of whom is given a brief chapter.  And he’s kept Rachel captive for over five years.  The problem is that his motives are not clarified.  Why does he kill?  The only explanation is that he seeks control after his wife’s illness and death:  “Death was happening to him, to the family he had built.  And there was nothing he could do about it.  It must have unmoored him.  He needed control.”  Why does he let Rachel live when he has already killed four other women by the time he encounters her?  Again, the only reason given is “He saw something in [Rachel] that was more interesting than death.”  And Rachel is able to convince him not to kill her and take her with him into the home he shares with his teenaged daughter?

Cecilia is also a bit of a problem.  She’s a very incurious teenager who asks very few questions.  Though she doesn’t like being controlled by her father, she never rebels?  Rachel’s appearance and behaviour cannot be seen as normal, yet Cecilia doesn’t show any real interest in the strange tenant?  She goes into the basement to look at things that belonged to her mother, but she doesn’t snoop into other boxes?  At the end of the book, she disappears when her perspective would have been interesting.

Emily is not convincing either.  She is so very needy, behaving like a lovesick teenager.  All we learn about her past is that she inherited her father’s restaurant.  More backstory would have been useful.  Some of her behaviour could be called stalking. 

There is considerable suspense.  Of course Rachel’s life is in danger; it is obvious that Aidan cannot be trusted to keep her indefinitely.  She realizes that if his attention falls elsewhere, she could be seen as dispensable:  “If you have to be in his world, then you must be special.  You must be the only one of you.”  There is a sense of urgency because he could be grooming his next victim.  She knows that he has killed others since she has been held captive, and if she doesn’t escape, she endangers others.  And as she gets to know Cecilia, Rachel worries about her and decides, “Whichever way you wiggle out of this, it has to involve her.  You want her safe.”

The reader sees Rachel’s thought processes so her behaviour is understandable, though there are several times when the reader might become frustrated with her reluctance to act.  There is no doubt that she has been traumatized.  However, I preferred Room and Strange Sally Diamond, both of which also examine the psychological effects of being held captive. 

Review of THE THIRD WITCH by Rebecca Reisert

 3  Stars

I was intrigued to read this retelling of Shakespeare’s Macbeth told from the perspective of one of the three witches. 

Having been rescued by Nettle and Mad Helga, Gilly has lived with the two women in Birnam Wood for seven years.  She then decides it is time to take revenge against Him whom she considers responsible for destroying her entire family.  (It does not take a genius to figure out that Him is Macbeth.)  Disguised as a boy, Gilly gets a job in the castle kitchen, hoping she will find an opportunity to take vengeance.  While some of the people she encounters (Pod and Lisette) are works of the author’s imagination, some are familiar from Shakespeare’s play:  Fleance, Prince Malcolm, and the Macduff family.  Despite her lowly position, Gilly witnesses most of the play’s most crucial events and even has an active part in others like the appearance of Banquo’s ghost.

I enjoyed the connections between the play and the novel.  Sometimes actual dialogue from the play is incorporated into conversations.  The language certainly evokes Shakespeare’s:  “I am a gapeseed, a strutting hobbledee horse, full of fury and threats but able to do nothing but playact.”  Some of the characters like Fleance are developed more than in the play.  Lady Macbeth certainly emerges as a fully developed character with an interesting backstory.  As in the play, blood imagery is used extensively:  at one point Lady Macbeth “stands stiffly wrapped in that cloak stiff with blood.”  I liked the explanation for the witches’ first prophecy that Him will become king, though the prophecies in Act IV are explained less credibly. 

Gilly does not behave consistently.  At the beginning she is obsessed with revenge; she keeps repeating that “My life is an arrow, and its target is his death.”  Despite warnings from Nettle and Helga, she is determined to kill Him.  It’s amazing that she has carried such passionate hatred for seven years.  Then she flip flops and decides that killing Him is not important and then reverts to plotting his death once again.  Some vacillating is not unexpected but multiple total reversals are unconvincing.

I did like the parallels between the avenging Gilly and her enemies.  Nettle warns Gilly that it’s “’easier than anything – easier than breathing, easier even than death – to find that you yourself have become the very thing you hate most.’”  And Gilly does admit that “My hunger for blood will burn out any thread of softness in my soul.”  One time, she gets blood on her hands and she scrubs and scrubs, “determined to get my hands clean of every bit of blood” just as Lady Macbeth does in the play. 

There is a lot of reliance on coincidence that requires readers to be credulous.  A member of the kitchen staff which “occupies the next to lowest rank of servants in the castle” manages to befriend and assist noblemen and have contact with a king?  More than once Gilly finds herself in a position to overhear revealing conversations?  And the ending is a problem.  The three options Gilly is given belong in a fairy tale. 

In my 30-year teaching career, I taught Macbeth many times so I enjoyed reading this retelling.  Though not without its shortcomings, it provides an interesting perspective on the events and suggests interesting discussion topics for students studying the play. 

Review of JUNO LOVES LEGS by Karl Geary

 4 Stars

This story of an unlikely friendship between two misfits is set in 1980s Ireland.

Twelve-year-old Juno defends a classmate, Seán McGuire, from school bullies and a friendship develops.  Juno nicknames him Legs.  The two live on the same housing estate and have troubled lives.  Juno lives with an alcoholic father and a downtrodden, life-beaten mother who shows little affection, whereas Legs’ mother is both a germophobe and a homophobe.  At school they are subjected to the cruelties of a Catholic education where corporal punishment and humiliation are a daily occurrence.  The two are separated for a few years but then find each other in Dublin where they once again rely on each other to survive. 

Juno, the narrator, is difficult to ignore or forget.  She’s headstrong, spirited, and intelligent.  Angry at the unfairness of the world, she lashes out, usually making matters worse.  She has good intentions but her combativeness and recklessness create problems.  Beneath her bravado lies a vulnerability she tries desperately to hide.  Few, other than Legs, see the love and tenderness behind the toughness. 

Legs is much like his friend.  Whereas Juno is ostracized because of her poverty, he is an outcast because of his feminine traits.  Everyone in his life, except for Juno, wants him to change and behave differently.  What is most impressive is his thoughtfulness towards Juno.  Like Juno, Legs acts bravely to support, protect, and defend his friend. 

Readers should be warned that this is a bleak book with only occasional glimpses of kindness from others.  Juno speaks of having “’to lord of the flies it in my school every day.”  Only the gestures of a security guard, coffee shop worker, and librarian add a glimmer of hope.    And then there’s that ending . . . readers will have much to contemplate.  One of the most poignant parts is Juno’s observation that “surely we were beautiful children too – why didn’t anyone say?  We should have been told of it, our beauty.”

This is a heart-breaking read that will not easily be forgotten.  I recommend it to anyone who loved Douglas Stuart’s novels, Shuggie Bain (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2020/10/review-of-shuggie-bain-by-douglas-stuart.html) and Young Mungo (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2022/04/review-of-young-mungo-by-douglas-stuart.html).