Review of BLUE LIGHT HOURS by Bruna Dantas Lobato (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This is a quiet novel about the bond between mother and daughter.

An unnamed young woman is attending a liberal arts college in Vermont as an international student. Her mother remains in northeastern Brazil. In the blue light of their computers, the two communicate, and as absence disrupts their usual routines, they develop new rituals to maintain their bond.

The book examines the immigrant experience. The young woman has to adjust to a new country with a different climate, culture and language. As one would expect, she makes friends mostly with other international students who can understand her feelings of not fitting in and her homesickness and loneliness. Because she is a scholarship student, she doesn’t have the money other students have to return home for periodic visits.

But the book’s focus is on the complexities of the mother-daughter relationship as it inevitably changes because of the distance that separates them and because the daughter’s experiences are so alien to the mother. The daughter, though she often feels isolated and adrift, is grateful for the opportunities she has and wants independence, but at the same time as she enjoys her life, she loves her mother and feels guilty about leaving her alone. The mother’s health issues add to the daughter’s concerns. The mother realizes she has more freedom and fewer responsibilities but loves and misses her daughter very much. She wants her daughter to have opportunities, “to have the ocean,” but has to come to terms with changes in her daughter, including hearing her speak a language she herself doesn’t understand. Both want to maintain a connection while having to find new identities and purposes and learn “how to live alone, and to keep going.”

Three-quarters of the book is from the daughter’s perspective in first person. This section covers her first year in the U.S. Then there’s a shift to the mother’s perspective but her section is in the third person. Though very short, the mother’s chapter covers years. The final chapter entitled “Reunion” takes place five years after the daughter’s leaving for her education. I found the large time jumps to be awkward, and the switch to third person has a distancing effect.

Actually, there’s a feeling of detachment throughout. The style contributes to this because it feels detached and emotionless. There were many times when I wanted more feeling. The plot is also minimalist so parts felt incomplete; not much happens. For instance, the daughter’s life is described vaguely; it’s an impressionistic approach. I understand that the author wanted to focus on theme, but I would have appreciated more depth.

This is not a book for readers wanting lots of action since it describes only the mundane daily activities of the young woman and her mother. I sometimes found the book repetitive and its slow pace frustrating. However, it will appeal to readers interested in a realistic portrayal of a mother and daughter relationship as the two learn to let go and move forward while still maintaining a close bond.

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

Review of THE STOLEN CHILD by Ann Hood

3 Stars 

 This book has a predictable plot with a few too many coincidences.

During World War I, Nick Burns was an American soldier in France. Camille Chastain, an artist, befriended him until one day, as the German’s advance, she thrust her paintings and her infant son Laurent into Nick’s arms and fled. Nick abandoned the child near a village well where he hoped someone would find him. Then in 1974, Nick is given a terminal cancer diagnosis; with only a few months to live, he decides to make one last effort to find out what happened to Laurent and his mother. He hires Jenny, a college dropout whose life has been derailed and who is desperate for adventure, to assist him. The two travel to Europe to begin their search.

The novel alternates between Nick and Jenny’s perspectives, but then a third viewpoint is added. We follow the story of Enzo Piccolo in Naples from the 1930s to the 1970s. Though he’s a master craftsman of Nativity figures, he also opens up a Museum of Tears in which he displays the vials of tears he collects from people. As expected, his story eventually connects with Nick and Jenny.

The major theme is that of regret. Nick has been haunted by life-long guilt and regret because of a choice he made as a young man. Nick observes, “Funny how at the end of your life you understand so much but you can’t undo any of it” and “How sad life was. When it was too late, you figured out everything you should have done.” Jenny makes a mistake that has altered her life forever. Enzo regrets letting his older brother Massimo always force him to do things he doesn’t want to do. Another character, Geraldine Walsh, regrets waiting too long to take decisive action.

There are plot holes and coincidences that really bothered me. How can someone travel from Europe to the U.S. without a passport? How can Daniel find Jenny’s hotel in Paris when he doesn’t even know she’s travelling? And that hotel knows how to find her in Rome? Of the 24 soldiers who might know what happened to Laurent, only three are alive and it is exactly those three who are the key to the puzzle! Geraldine is so much in love but it takes her years to finally act on her feelings? It’s a little too convenient that the film The Graduate is shown on the island of Capri just when needed. Actually the entire romance between Daniel and Jenny is a bit much, the stuff of a rom-com, not reality.

Though slow-paced, the book is entertaining, but the reader must be willing to suspend disbelief because the plot is contrived and there are too many coincidences to be believable. There are some attempts to make this a serious novel, but it actually has more romantic fluff than substance.

Review of THE TALNIKOV FAMILY by Avdotya Panaeva (New Release)

 3 Stars

This is a translation (by Fiona Bell) of a Russian novel first published in 1848.

Natasha, the narrator, grows up in the 1820s in St. Petersburg in a chaotic and abusive family surrounded by siblings, various other relatives, and cockroaches. Her mother is neglectful, her father mercilessly whips his children, and the aunts and governess administer daily punishments for all misdemeanors, however small. Going to bed hungry is routine: “I was so often left without tea, without dinner, and without supper for a whole month that I was quite accustomed to this sort of punishment.”

This is not an easy read. To call it dark and depressing is almost an understatement. At least semi-autobiographical, it is full of relentless misery from which Natasha and her siblings find only fleeting moments of joyful escape. There is some humour in the way the unwed aunts fight for the attention of possible suitors, but even in these episodes there is sadness because the desperation of their situations is obvious.

The novel actually emphasizes the lack of women’s autonomy. The spinster aunts are totally dependent on relatives so they compete to curry favour. Natasha outlines their situation: “They, too, were deprived of life and freedom, and we often bore the consequences; disgruntled with our mother, our aunts took their anger out on us.” They all yearn for the escape that marriage would grant them, but of course there is no guarantee that their situations would much improve once they are wed. Certainly the marriages portrayed in the novel are less than ideal.

Of course children have even less autonomy. They receive little affection, education, food, and proper clothing. They are virtual prisoners; even their outdoor time is limited. What they are given is physical beatings and psychological abuse. Natasha is repeatedly told she is stupid, useless, and ugly. They long to escape the home, but when they are sent out into the world into the care of others, they often receive more mistreatment. That’s actually a problem: there is little to differentiate among the adults who are almost equally deplorable.

For me, the mother is the most despicable of the characters. A total narcissist, she is totally indifferent to the welfare of her children. Even the death of a child is met with indifference; she sheds no tears. When Mama witnesses another woman crying over the death of her child, Mama says, “’What a fool! What is she crying about? . . . Must be her first! I’ve got plenty to spare.’” She wants to be the centre of attention and becomes angry and envious when anyone else steals her limelight.

I did not find the style inviting. There are long paragraphs of exposition with limited dialogue. The lack of a plot and the presence of repetition makes reading somewhat tiresome. In a lengthy introduction, the translator admits, “Readers today may be put off by Panaeva’s frequent repetition and non-sequiturs. The novel often reads like its author’s breathless attempt to recount every impression and every wrongdoing, sometimes at the expense of literary style.”

I believe this is the first Russian novel I’ve read that was written by a woman. Written from the perspective of a young woman, it describes a totally dysfunctional family. I can understand why the book was suppressed in Russia, “the censor blocking publication by calling the novel ‘cynical’ and ‘undermining parental power.’” For modern readers, it certainly sheds light on family dynamics in the early 19^th century in Russia.

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

Review of BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Jacqueline Winspear

 2.5 Stars

Though I wasn’t overly impressed with the first book in the Maisie Dobbs series, I thought I’d give the second book a chance. I think I will be giving up on the series because this installment was not an improvement.

Maisie is hired by Joseph Waite, a wealthy grocery magnate, to find his daughter Charlotte who has once again fled her gilded cage. Locating her whereabouts becomes more pressing when Maisie discovers that three of Charlotte’s friends have recently met violent deaths. Is Charlotte the murderer or will she be the next victim?

Characters introduced in the first book reappear: Billy Beale, Lady Compton, Maurice Blanche, and Frankie Dobbs. Billy and Frankie both end up needing help but, as expected, their problems are solved fairly easily because of Maisie’s connections. New characters are introduced of course. One that bothered me is Charlotte. Her behaviour, given the circumstances, doesn’t always make sense.

Maisie continues to be too perfect. What irritated me this time is her total control; she never gets flustered and always has control of her emotions. She needs some flaws other than not eating enough and having tendrils of her hair always coming loose. What is also unbelievable is her use of empathy to investigate: She can sense auras and thereby knows not to leave a room because a clue is waiting to be found? This weird supernatural vibe means that she actually finds clues without any clever sleuthing. Isn’t she an investigator/psychologist, not a psychic?

The mystery is lacklustre to say the least. The title of the novel is so obviously a clue; given the setting of the novels, I immediately thought of the white feather campaign. The mystery would have been solved very early on if the author didn’t keep the reader in the dark. For instance, Maisie picks up two items in two different places but what she pockets is not identified until later. Keeping evidence from readers means this is not a fair-play mystery.

The pace can only be called glacial. Even when Maisie has definite clues as to Charlotte’s whereabouts, it takes her days to check if her suspicions are correct. I don’t need an action-packed plot to keep my interest, but I definitely expect something a little less sedate in a mystery, however cozy it is supposed to be.

This novel is set in 1930, twelve years after the end of World War I, yet all Maisie’s cases relate to events in the war? I understand the lasting impact of that horrific war, but not all crimes committed years later were connected to it. And why, if the murderer is motivated by events during the war, does s/he act only a dozen years later?

Review of MAISIE DOBBS by Jacqueline Winspear

3 Stars

Having given up on Louise Penny’s Armand Gamache series for my morning walk audiobooks, I was debating what series to try next when I came across an article about Jacqueline Winspear bringing her Maisie Dobbs series to an end with the publication of an eighteenth book. Not having read any of them, I decided I’d start with the first book published in 2003 with an eponymous title.

It’s 1929. Maisie, following the footsteps of her mentor Maurice Blanche, sets up a business as a psychologist/investigator. For her first case she is hired by a man to follow his wife whom he suspects of infidelity. This case and a request from her aristocratic benefactress, Lady Rowan Compton, leads to Maisie investigating a home where disfigured soldiers take refuge to escape the stares of society.

Since this is the first in the series, it’s not surprising that the mystery becomes almost secondary. Instead, there is a focus on Maisie’s background. We learn about her childhood as the motherless child of a greengrocer, and how she comes to Lady Compton’s attention and is tutored by Maurice Blanche. Her university studies are interrupted by World War I and she becomes a nurse sent to France.

Maisie has considerable luck and chance always works in her favour. For instance, Billy Beale, the handyman and assistant she employs, was one of her patients, and one who is extremely grateful. Just as Maisie becomes aware of The Retreat for injured soldiers, Lady Compton conveniently approaches her about checking out the facility. Maisie meets Dr. Simon Lynch and then ends up stationed near him in France.

Maisie is portrayed as almost too perfect. She is attractive and intelligent and empathetic and intuitive. She fits the character archetype known as Mary Sue in that she is portrayed as extremely competent, gifted with unique talents, liked or respected by most other characters, unrealistically free of weaknesses, extremely attractive, innately virtuous, and generally lacking meaningful character flaws. She has the ability to mimic someone’s body posture and thereby understand his/her emotional state. She moves easily through society, being comfortable regardless of people’s status. Others think very highly of her; Lady Compton and Maurice Blanche recognized her potential almost immediately, and Billy virtually worships her. Only in the end is there a scene that suggests she is less than perfect.

As a mystery, this is less than stellar. The villain is easily identifiable and the crime easily solvable, though there is of course a dramatic climax replete with danger. Now that Maisie’s background has been established, I’ll see how the series develops. Will I become disenchanted or will I read all eighteen books? For now that’s a mystery.

Review of LESSONS IN CHEMISTRY by Bonnie Garmus

 3.5 Stars

This is a much-hyped, sometimes-comic novel that examines the social strictures imposed on women in the mid-20th century and pleads for gender equality.

The novel opens in California in 1961. Elizabeth Zott is a single mother and reluctant host of an afternoon cooking show for housewives. By training, she is a research chemist, but her academic career was derailed despite her obvious intelligence; flashbacks reveal why she didn’t pursue her PhD, why she was fired from a research institute, and how she finds herself a television celebrity giving cooking lessons while also teaching chemistry and encouraging female empowerment.

Elizabeth reminded me of other neuro-divergent characters I’ve encountered in books recently: Molly Gray from The Maid and Eleanor Oliphant from Gail Honeyman’s novel. She is awkward in social situations; she comes across as abrasive because she is immune to social conventions and insists on speaking her mind. She is ultra-focused and so stubborn that compromise is never an option for her. Her intelligence and self-assuredness often irritate people, as do many of her non-conformist opinions which identify her as an atheist and feminist, a woman ahead of her time.

Men do not fare well. So many of them are chauvinists, sexists, liars, plagiarists, manipulators, and even rapists. They have no redeeming qualities so they become almost creepy cartoon villains. There are some good guys like Calvin Evans and Walter Pine but both demonstrate some arrogance in their lack of understanding of women and how they are perceived and treated by society. Though I understand the book’s message, I’d prefer a little less male-bashing.

Another character that annoyed me is Six-Thirty. The anthropomorphizing of the dog seems unnecessary and doesn’t fit the rest of the novel. I know he’s intended to be quirky and charming, much like Elizabeth, but I found him grating after a while. What’s his purpose? To prove that Elizabeth is correct in her assessment of his intelligence? To add humour?

On the topic of humour, I should admit that, though I Iove stand-up comedy, I’m not a fan of comic fiction. In this particular novel, it’s the hyperbole that I know is intended for comic purposes that irked me. Characters are exaggerated for effect: Madeline is not just precocious but super precocious, and the dog not only has a massive vocabulary but makes a heroic save. A woman doesn’t just complete premed studies but does so in record time and is immediately accepted into medical school. Elizabeth herself is an outsized character because she’s not just gifted but also attractive, and she excels at all she does: chemistry, food science, and rowing. She even becomes a superstar of sorts because of her television show.

Other exaggerations are also unbelievable. A pregnant scientist doesn’t see a doctor about her pregnancy until almost ready to deliver? Who uses scientific terms for ingredients in a recipe? A kitchen is converted into a lab? Hyperbole makes parts of the books absurd, and I am not a fan of absurdist humour. I prefer more subtle humour like Elizabeth’s answering Mr. Donatti’s question (“’A woman telling me what pregnancy is. Who do you think you are?’”) by simply stating, “’A woman.’” Or Calvin’s thoughts about the designers of bridesmaids’ dresses: “He thought about the people who designed these dresses; how, like bomb manufacturers or pornography stars, they had to remain vague about the way they made their livings.”

The book also relies too much on coincidence. As soon as Madeline meets a minister in the library, I knew who he would be. Of course his secretary would be Miss Frask. And of course there’s the deus ex machina ending where a rich female benefactor, a very specific woman, helps Elizabeth get her revenge. The result is a fairy tale ending, one gift-wrapped and tied with a bow for good measure.

The book jacket describes the book as “laugh-out-loud funny,” but it touches on many serious topics: suicide, homosexuality, domestic abuse, sexual harassment, rape, grief, misogyny, double standards for men and women, religion, unwed mothers, parenting, lack of career opportunities for women, etc. Sometimes the message about women’s rights and social issues is delivered in a heavy-handed fashion. Elizabeth delivers some monologues that had me thinking there should be a soundtrack of Helen Reddy or Emmy Meli singing their “I am Woman” songs.

The book has a positive message about female empowerment and it is an easy, entertaining read. Because of its many rave reviews, I was expecting more, so I guess I’m in the minority. For me, it was a good summer read.

Review of THE WILDES by Louis Bayard (New Release)

 4 Stars

This novel focuses on the effects on Oscar Wilde’s family of his trial and imprisonment for homosexuality.

The book opens with Oscar, his wife Constance, and other family members on holiday in Norfolk. The arrival of Lord Alfred Douglas (Bosie) upsets the peace of the vacation. It is during his prolonged stay that Constance realizes that Oscar and Bosie are lovers, and the foundations of the happy family are shaken.

Structured like a Wilde play, the novel is narrated in five acts. In the first act, it is 1892 and Oscar is one of the most popular playwrights in London when the family holidays on a farm in Norfolk. Though Constance feels Oscar “has never belonged entirely to her,” being a man of public interest and constantly visited by a “stream of acolytes, the procession of narrow-chested young men, each younger than the last,” she thinks of their marriage as a happy one. Bosie’s arrival changes everything. The second act, set in 1897, focuses on Constance’s life in Italy where she has taken refuge from the ugly publicity surrounding Oscar’s trial and imprisonment. She changes her name and the surname of her children to Holland. The third act is from the perspective of Cyril, the elder son; he is a sniper in the trenches of France during World War I. The fourth act, 1925 in London, focuses on Vyvyan, the younger son, who is still grappling with what happened in Norfolk and his father’s legacy. The final act reunites the family members in a surprising way and imagines what could have happened if everyone had agreed to create an unconventional family and hide Oscar’s homosexuality from the public and authorities.

Though Oscar is the famous figure, he is not the main character. It is the people most affected by his choices and actions that are central to the novel: Constance, Cyril, and Vyvyan. Lady Brooke, Constance’s friend, states that Oscar has made his wife a martyr: “’Dragging you and your boys into his mire. Forcing you into exile. Obliging you to live under assumed identities. . . . Dressed like somebody’s governess in a rented villa. Cringing at phantom journalists and dragging your right leg after you like a sack of turnips.’” Cyril reacts to what happened to his father by rejecting his father: “I am no wild, passionate, irresponsible hero. I live by thought, not by emotion.” He despises “weak-kneed, effeminate degenerates” and aspires to “an obsidian hardness”: “Life in its most collapsed and concentrated form – that is the destiny of a boy whose father acted like a woman, turned other men into women. That same boy must scourge all that is female from his soul and, coming himself into manhood, embrace the most masculine of careers” because “lapping at his heels always, is the memory of shame, of exile, or what happens when a fellow makes himself tender.”

Though obviously there is a great deal of pathos, there is also humour. Dialogue is often sparkling and witty. One of Constance’s friends mentions listening to Bosie’s talking about nothing but himself, and Constance replies, “’So he is a man after all.’” Lady Wilde, Oscar’s mother, with her cathedral chest, adds many a light-hearted moment.

Characters are fully developed. One cannot help but empathize with Constance. She thinks of herself as “A woman of scant importance,” but there is no doubt of her intelligence. And one cannot but admire her behaviour. For instance, on the opening night of The Importance of Being Earnest in 1895, she stands by her husband: “’she took [Oscar’s] arm and smiled with the most extraordinary placidity toward every photographer.’” Oscar is selfish and proud and reckless. He loves attention. Constance thinks of her husband with “his egoism and disdain for consequences, his readiness to fly as close to the sun as the sun will allow.” But there are glimpses of him as a husband and father. He treats Constance with tenderness and affection. And there is also no doubt of his love for his sons; his “finding” of Blackie, a rabbit Cyril loved, indicates his ability and desire to be a good father.

The character who emerges as the villain is Bosie. One man speaks of him as “’the most astonishing case of arrested development I have ever had the misfortune of encountering,’” and that is a perfect description. He can be very charming, but at his heart is a narcissist. His behaviour during the Norfolk holiday can only be described as odious, and his meeting with Vyvyan decades later confirms he has not changed; one man describes him as a “’rancorous bigot,’” But even for this spoiled child, one can have some compassion when reading about the treatment he receives at the hands of his father, the Marquess of Queensberry.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It is deeply insightful in its portrayal of human nature and emotions. I will be visiting Dublin this fall, and I intend to view the Oscar Wilde Memorial Sculpture in Merrion Square. Besides admiring Oscar reclining on a boulder, I will be paying particular attention to one of the pillars that flanks the boulder: a representation of Constance Wilde. Thank you, Mr. Bayard, for helping me think about her whose life was so impacted by her famous husband’s choices.

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