Review of THE SPIRIT OF SCATARIE by Lesley Crewe

 3 Stars

This novel is set on Scatarie which I had never heard of but is a real island off the northeastern tip of Cape Breton Island.

The narrator is the ghost of Cara Murphy who died when she was fifteen in a shipwreck near the island. She tells the life stories of three people, Hardy, Sam and Mary Alice, all born on Christmas Day 1922. As the three grow up, they become inseparable, and their friendships bind them for the rest of their lives. We learn about the major events of their lives: marriages, births and deaths.

The title may refer to the narrator, but in many ways the book is about life on the island and the spirit of the place. There’s a very close-knit fishing community because people depend on each other. There is little comfort and few conveniences: no electricity, indoor plumbing, or running water, and only one telephone. Daily life on the isolated island is harsh and is described very realistically, though the beauty of the place is also emphasized. As time passes, changes come, especially to the fishing industry, so families move away. Mary Alice talks about “watching our lifeblood seep away.” In fact I came to learn that Scatarie was inhabited for over 300 years as a fishing station until residents were resettled to the mainland in the mid-1960s. The island is now a protected wilderness area.

The three main characters emerge with distinct personalities. I think that Mary Alice is the type of feisty character that would appeal to young readers who enjoy books like Anne of Green Gables. I did have some difficulties with Mary Alice, however. She is obviously attracted to one man but then, without ever showing any romantic interest in another man, says she loves the latter and immediately agrees to marry him.

I found the writing style unpolished. There are a lot of minor characters, mostly relatives of the three main characters, who appear to move the plot along and then disappear. It’s almost impossible to remember who is who. Then there are irrelevant scenes or scenes which have unnecessary details. For instance, do the logistics of each visit to Cape Breton need to be given: this character picked up this person and this character lent a vehicle and this character offered a place to stay? Parts of the narrative are predictable; for example, when Stuart is introduced and his attention to Sam’s wife is described, the narrative arc is totally foreseeable.

One element I really enjoyed is the story of Jane, the war bride. She comes to Scatarie from London with no real idea of what life is like on the island. What she sees upon her arrival is a great shock to her, and I imagine what many war brides faced must have been equally difficult. Of course the women of the community help her, and Jane realizes that “’the island is the best place in the world’” because she had friends and family on Scatarie when she had “’nobody in one of the most populated cities in the world.’”

I wasn’t convinced that the perspective of a spirit was needed, but the author seems to want to comfort the reader by claiming that the spirits of loved ones are around if one is open to them; there is no death: “no loss of life among you, only the ship.” Cara offers lessons to the living: “Life can be cruel and magnificent. You must resolve that both realities exist in the living realm” and “That is the paramount canon here. Forgiveness. Of others, but mostly of your own heart” and “Every little soul needs a friend. That’s a founding principle, a doctrine of this afterlife. No one can get through life or death alone” and “Are you aware of what a few kind words can do for a person? All of us are capable if we have a mind to.”

I did not find this to be one of Lesley Crewe’s finest novels, but it will appeal to readers who like an emotional story with both heart-breaking and heartwarming moments.

Review of MULE BOY by Andrew Krivák (New Release)

4.5 Stars 

This is a rivetingly beautiful book which I think will haunt me for some time.

Ondro Prach is an old man living a solitary life in the forests of New Hampshire. He narrates his life story beginning with a pivotal event when he was 13 years old. On New Year’s Day of 1929, Ondro, the son of Slovak immigrants, after two years of working in a coal mine in Pennsylvania, has been promoted to a mule boy. He handles a mule that hauls cartloads of coal from shafts deep within the mine. When a roof collapses, Ondro is trapped with four other men. He is the only one who escapes. The memory of that day is a burden that has a negative impact on his life: he escapes the mine but becomes a prisoner of his past, unable to escape the tragedy that defined his life. Many years later, he is visited by the miners’ loved ones seeking answers to the men’s last hours. He shares what he remembers, offering healing to the descendants, and finds healing and peace himself.

When I first began the novel, I struggled. It’s written in stream-of-consciousness style; there’s not one period in the entire book, though there are commas which suggest breaths taken by the speaker. I gradually got into the rhythm of the fluid, lyrical prose and ended up finding myself totally immersed, swept away by what is described as “incantatory prose set to the rhythm of human breath.”

This is a novel about tunneling through the worst of times. Because Ondro carries the burden of a terrible trauma, his life becomes a virtual prison sentence: “I went to prison not for what I had done but for what I had failed to do, hidden in a room deep below the ground where I did not find God and God did not find me, and I have wondered if this is what I have been asked to carry for the rest of my life, if there is life in this.” He is obviously suffering with survivor’s guilt. He fears that his life has no meaning; he has a deep fear of the dark, “not the dark in which there is no light but the dark in which there is nothing, no thing.”

Eventually he comes to understand the need to accept life with all it offers, whether horrors and grief and guilt or beauty and peace: “if you are alive, alone or with others, in the dark or in the light, imprisoned or walking freely, it is life right up to the last breath.” A friend speaks to him about the Book of Jonah in which Jonah is swallowed by a big fish, as Ondro was swallowed by the earth. Jonah needs to learn “about God’s mercy and magnanimity” and Ondro needs to be reminded of this as well and to forgive himself. It’s interesting that a miner keeps telling Ondro “ňestaraj śe” which translates as “don’t worry anymore” in a Slovak dialect, a different way perhaps of suggesting that God will provide.

Ondro also comes to terms with death. A friend teaches him that “death is not a destruction of being but a change of state” so “fear of death was weak and unfounded because there is no not being and this is the only way we can live life and not fear death, knowing that to become nothing is impossible and that what matters is the being our bodies consist of and death is simply a change.” (This made me think of an article I once read about how the atoms and energy particles that make up a living person persist in the universe, effectively changing form rather than vanishing. Based on the law of conservation of energy, the energy within a human body cannot be destroyed upon death, only transformed.)

This book really impressed me. With its focus on the burden of being the sole survivor of a tragedy, it is obviously sad, but it also emphasizes the possibility of redemption. I tend not to reread books, but this one certainly deserves a second look.

Review of DANDELION by Jamie Chai Yun Liew

3.5 Stars 

This was a 2025 Canada Reads selection chosen to be read by my book club.

In 1988, Swee Hua leaves her husband Ah Loy and her daughters, Lily and Bea. Lily, the narrator, is 11 years old when her mother disappears and is never heard from again. Twenty years later, Lily, a new mother, sets out to find Swee Hua.

The novel is divided into three parts. The first part, entitled “Before,” shows the family before Swee Hua’s departure. The family lives in Sparwood, a small mining town in British Columbia. Ah Loy wants them to blend into the Canadian life, but Swee Hua longs to return to Brunei. The second part, entitled “Now,” focuses on Lily as a young mother wishing her own mother were there to help her adjust to motherhood, a desire that sets her on her search. The last section, entitled “See,” describes Lily’s travels to Southeast Asia and her discoveries there.

The novel examines the complexities of the immigrant experience. I appreciated the contrasting views presented by Lily’s parents. Ah Loy is devoted to Canada because it gave him citizenship which he’d not had in Brunei. He largely rejects his ethnic heritage. He tends to be blind to some of the problems within Canada. Swee Hua, on the other hand, hates almost everything about Canada. She feels isolated from her family so she longs to leave and return to Southeast Asia. She tends to romanticize China, turning it almost into a fantasy land.

Other topics are also explored. For example, racism is highlighted. As a child, Lily is ostracized because of her ethnicity, and Swee Hua also faces discrimination. Depression, especially post-partum depression, and motherhood and identity are also addressed.

The novel’s slow pace is problematic. There is, for instance, a lot of repetition. In the first part there are repeated scenes of racism and disagreements between Ah Loy and Swee Hua about life in Canada. In the later sections, there is constant reference to Lily’s difficulties as a new mother. Then virtually every character questioned states s/he knows nothing about Swee Hua’s whereabouts. The many food references become tedious; some paragraphs just list foods: “Hot woks fried blood cockles for char kuey teow, a mortar and pestle ground peanuts for tangy rojack, succulent satay smoke on the grill, popiah were rolled up on wooden cutting boards, sweet and sour asam laksa simmered in a large pot, and layered kueh lapis in a rainbow of colours beamed from a refrigerated counter.”

The writing style does not impress. There is a lot more telling than showing. Dialogue is awkward because it’s used as exposition to give background information. Metaphors tend to be clunky. For example, Lily says, “I remember my teacher last year, Mrs. Henry, telling us knapweed was a noxious and non-native species that was invading the valley. It may have been unwanted, but it was vibrant and strong.” On the previous page, Ah Loy describes his Hakka tribe: “’Like a dandelion, the Hakka can land anywhere, take root in the poorest soil, flourish and flower.’” It’s obvious that neither is actually talking about weeds. Two white women who shun Swee Hua discuss a room divider: “’It’s quite ornate. Hand-painted and Oriental looking. It’s quite fetching . . . I just love how a little exotic touch can add so much to a plain room.’” It’s impossible to miss the irony.

The book touches on some important issues; I just wish the execution were more polished.

Review of HOW TO GET AWAY WITH MURDER by Rebecca Philipson (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This book’s premise is singular but its execution not so.

Samantha Hansen is a Scotland Yard detective. She has been on leave because of mental health issues, but insists on returning when she learns of the murder of 14-year-old Charlotte Mathers. Found in her backpack is a copy of a book, How to Get Away with Murder, by Denver Brady. The author, a self-proclaimed serial killer, details his methodology and his past victims. Sam is tasked with finding Brady to determine if he’s the killer or if there’s a copycat at work.

Chapters alternate between Brady’s how-to manual and Sam’s investigation. The pacing in the middle is uneven. There’s a lot of repetition, some of which is confusing. What’s the significance of different characters discussing the buoyancy of water and Ben and Jerry’s ice-cream? And it’s sometimes difficult to keep track of Brady’s various victims as described in his book. There’s definitely overuse of the trope of characters being interrupted in their conversation just as one of them wants to convey something important. Then there’s the conversation with a YouTuber who says he feels like a character being cheaply thrown into a scene; this chat feels like a fourth wall break, especially with the addition of Sam’s comment about loving plot twists.

Characterization could be stronger. Sam has positive traits: she is intelligent and persistent and sensitive. She also struggles with PTSD. At the beginning, she experiences physical symptoms like headaches and the taste of salt, symptoms that are mentioned again and again. Readers will feel sympathetic, especially because her being assaulted by a colleague was handled unfairly. But then Sam’s symptoms just seem to disappear without sufficient explanation. Of course, I do understand the need for vagueness in detailing Sam’s “journey” but it may contribute to the plot twist feeling somewhat artificial.

I found myself getting frustrated with Sam’s slow reading of Brady’s instructional guide. Her repeated excuse is that she has difficulty concentrating, but surely reading the book would be an essential first step in the investigation. So much of Brady’s personality is revealed in the book: his pretentiousness and sense of superiority, as well as his misogyny and homophobia, are obvious. When his identity is revealed, it’s really not a surprise.

The ending, on the other hand, may come as a surprise to readers though there are certainly a lot of clues, especially references to there being no rest for the wicked and to Sam’s feelings of injustice. But it’s the use of a bonus chapter that bothers me: since it cannot have been written by the same person, is it added to a second edition or a follow-up book? And how does that bonus chapter connect to Sam’s diatribe about criminals being able to change their names and become untraceable?

This is not a bad book and it will certainly leave readers questioning, but there are some elements that feel contrived.

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

Review of LIBERTY STREET by Heather Marshall (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This is the first book I’ve read by this Canadian author and I came away impressed by this historical fiction which alternates between two timelines.

In 1961, Emily Radcliffe is an editorial assistant with Chatelaine magazine. In order to investigate rumors of horrific conditions in the Mercer Women’s Prison, Emily goes undercover. She has her father tell a judge that Emily is uninterested in marriage, disregards curfew, and has no respect for authority so is in need of reform. This claim is sufficient to get her sent to the prison for six months. What she uncovers, she is certain will launch her career as a journalist.

In 1996, unidentified female remains are discovered in an unmarked grave in a small-town cemetery. Detective Rachel Mackenzie is tasked with unraveling the mystery. Her investigation leads to the now-shuttered Mercer Women’s Prison. At the same time Rachel is still dealing with the trauma of a family tragedy, details of which are slowly revealed through flashbacks to the 1980s.

A major question throughout is how the two stories will connect. Is the body that of one of the women in the prison during Emily’s time there? Rachel’s backstory, on the other hand, feels unnecessary. Her complicated and difficult relationship with her mother I found a distraction. Yes, it does touch on mental health issues, but there’s sufficient examination of that topic without this addition.

I appreciate how much research the author did for this novel. As explained by the lengthy Author’s Note at the end, the characters are based on real people. I enjoyed the portrayal of Doris Anderson, the long-time editor of Chatelaine, a magazine my mother read faithfully all her life. And the deplorable prison conditions depicted in the novel are based on actual conditions uncovered in the Andrew Mercer Reformatory.

I want historical fiction to enlighten me and that is certainly the case here. In particular, I learned about the Female Refuges Act, an oppressive law that made it easy to institutionalize women for subjective misbehaviour. Prostitution or pregnancy outside marriage were offenses but a parent could bring before a judge any female under 25 who was deemed unmanageable or incorrigible.

What is emphasized is the lack of women’s rights. Women had few choices; what was expected is that they conform to society’s expectations. The author notes that the prison was intended to reform women: “to instill the valued feminine virtues of the era – namely subjugation and docility – in the name of reform.”

I did have some issues with characterization. One character, Dr. Eris Stone, is almost a cartoon villain because she has no redeeming qualities. And then there’s Emily who is too naive. She is convinced that she will be given a 3-month sentence and that she’ll be able to cause a public uproar with her story. Even after all she’s heard and her own experiences with Dr. Stone, it never occurs to her that she could jeopardize her release by confronting the doctor? I understand that her naivety propels the plot and creates suspense, but it’s as if her time in prison has had no effect on her. Emily acknowledges being “green and naive and bursting at the seams with idealism” but it’s a bit late.

Sometimes the novel feels somewhat heavy-handed in its development of theme. For example, “Women who came from broken homes and poverty, who were ill in the mind or body. She could see now how those things limited a person’s opportunities, dictated the direction of her life as they forced her down paths that were rockier, darker and more dangerous than the ones Emily had been allowed to traverse” and “society always calls a woman crazy when she knows she is right about something, or when, like the ill-fated Cassandra of lore, she sees something the others cannot – or will not.” I prefer less telling and more showing; there should be no need to tell the reader what is already made obvious by events.

Despite some weaknesses, this book is a worthwhile read. It sheds light on women’s rights (or lack thereof) in the 1960s, on the conditions in reformatories, and on the treatment (or lack thereof) of mental illness.

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

Review of MORE THAN ENOUGH by Anna Quindlen (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This novel didn’t resonate with me as much as did the author’s previous one, After Annie (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2024/03/review-of-after-annie-by-anna-quindlen.html).

Polly Goodman, in her early 40s, is an English teacher in a girls’ private school in Manhattan; she is married to Mark, a veterinarian at the Bronx Zoo. Polly loves her job and her marriage is a happy one. She does, however, desperately want to have a child, but her biological clock is winding down and fertility treatments have not been successful. Other concerns are her strained relationship with her mother, her father’s worsening dementia, and her best friend’s illness. And there’s also the DNA test she took which has a surprising result.

The plot meanders and so lacks focus. There are several subplots, some of which seem unnecessary. For instance, the Josephine story seems irrelevant. The displacement of the in-laws needs to be detailed so much when it’s only real purpose is to bring Lou and Sarah together? And do we really need so much information about alpacas? With all these side stories for various characters, the plot feels scattered. This impression is not helped by the time shifts as the narrative constantly moves back and forth between past and present. And then there’s the unnecessary repetition: the gossip chain in Mark’s family, the housesitting for Sarah, the book club that requires members not to read the books, etc.

Polly is the narrator. She has several positive traits: she’s sensitive, thoughtful, kind, and compassionate. Her brother describes her as strong, smart, and dependable. Unfortunately, though I sympathized with her at first, I eventually became annoyed with her. Her desire to have a biological child seems an obsession, though I will admit that my never wanting to have children may add to my frustration with her. And she is so oblivious to her blind spots, especially as concerns her mother, even after Garrison, Mark, and her therapist try to warn her. She makes offhand comments like, “The thing about family: Lots of times someone was doing something behind your back, for your own good, even when it didn’t feel that way” without connecting that observation to her own mother. Then there’s the whole genealogy question; Polly totally ignores the obvious explanation. She is married to an expert in genetics, yet they never have a discussion that could have clarified everything very quickly?!

The number of too-good-to-be-believable characters is a problem. There’s the perfect mother-in-law, the perfect best friend, and the perfect husband. The character who most interested me is Garrison. Chapter 22, in which Garrison speaks very bluntly to his sister, had me cheering. It’s telling that Polly’s response is to run home to her bed. On the topic of characters, is it credible that a judge, someone who must be rational, intelligent, and must possess strong analytical skills, does not ever question such a significant event in her own life?

The ending is very tidy, too tidy for my tastes. Given the details revealed and repeated in the past, Polly’s news seems incredible. The title suggests that a major theme is the importance of practising gratitude, and this outcome left me wondering if she has learned this lesson or would she continue to be unhappy with her lot if things did not work as they apparently do. Polly has more than enough in her life; she has a rewarding career, a happy marriage to an unfailingly supportive husband, loyal and generous friends, strong family support, and enough everyday experiences that should bring her joy. She scoffs at a comment made by a student’s mother because it suggests a lack of understanding of true tragedy; the irony, of course, is that she herself focuses on what is wrong with her life instead of being grateful for what she already has.  Her attitude belies her surname.

This is not a bad book. The prose is engaging, but there are too many tangential stories. I’m certain the reader is to empathize with the main character, but I found myself losing patience with her. (Perhaps that reveals more about me than Polly?) Though entertaining in parts, the plot’s arc is predictable and the ending too neat.

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

Review of ADRIFT by Will Dean (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This is an emotionally exhausting psychological drama about domestic abuse.

In 1994 in the Illinois/Indiana/Kentucky area, Drew and Peggy Jenkins and their teenage son Samson live on a rundown canal boat. Drew is a controlling and abusive man who uses isolation, intimidation, and gaslighting to undermine his wife. With no financial resources, Peggy is totally dependent on her husband but desperate to get away with her son. The situation becomes increasingly untenable when Peggy, an aspiring writer like Drew, has a publisher interested in her novel.

The novel alternates between the perspectives of Peggy and Samson so the reader gets to understand them quite well. Peggy loves her son and wants to take him away from Drew’s influence. Samson is bullied at school and dreams of escape as well; his plan is to do well at school so he can go away for further studies. What bothered me about Peggy is that she seems rather naive and oblivious. Samson is being badly bullied at school, but she is “grateful he likes his new school as much as he does.” Even when she witnesses her son being a target of bullies, she makes light of it: “Thank God those kids were only calling him names.” And it never occurs to her how angry and jealous Drew will be when he learns about her success in writing? The logical thing to do would be to keep her novel a secret and to use the money to facilitate an escape.

The character of Drew is problematic. He is adept at psychological manipulation; he lies, denies past events, twists facts, shifts blame, and is dismissive of Peggy’s feelings. He doesn’t want Peggy to have a paying job. He isolates his family by continuously moving the boat further and further away from the town. He even rations food, heat and water. Unfortunately, he becomes almost a cartoon villain because he has no redeeming qualities. Peggy claims he was kind and loving when they first met, but the reader doesn’t see any evidence of these traits; in fact, the book opens with a flashback to 1973 which shows the extent of Drew’s depravity.

A sense of unease permeates the novel from the beginning. The dread only grows further as the boat is moved further away from others who might intervene to help. The small boat (six feet wide and fifty feet long) is claustrophobic; it has no privacy or distance or personal space. The three people are confined and the reader feels restricted as well. The pace is rather slow; in the middle there is just repetition of gaslighting and bullying. Then the resolution is almost deus ex machina where a hero comes to the rescue.

I’m confused about the setting. The novel is set in the U.S. but British terms like kit, instead of sports gear, and biro, instead of pen, are used. Samson eats Cola Cubes, a traditional British candy? Canal boats, especially narrowboats, are common in England. The author is British so why would he choose an American setting for no reason?

This is an unsettling read, but it’s the issues with characterization, a slow pace, and the novel’s climax that bothered me.

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