Review of THE ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF LENNI AND MARGOT by Marianne Cronin

 3 Stars

A patient in Glasgow’s Princess Royal Hospital, 17-year-old Lenni Petersson is terminally ill with an unspecified illness.  While awaiting her death, she becomes friends with a number of people.  One of them is Father Arthur, the hospital chaplain, who is nearing retirement.  Through the art therapy program in the hospital, she meets 83-year-old Margot Macrae who has life-threatening heart disease. 

The two women, whose ages add up to 100 years, decide to collaborate on 100 works of art to represent their combined century of life:  “It isn’t enough to have been a particle in the great extant of existence.  I want, we want more.  We want for people to know us, to know our story, to know who we are and who we will be.  And after we’re gone, to know who we were.”  Since Margot is the much better artist, she does most of the artwork whereas Lenni keeps a written record of their stories.

Chapters alternate between Lenni and Margot in chronological order.  Since Margot has lived a fairly long life, we learn a lot about her past:  her life has been full of both love and heartbreak.  Since Margot has lived 66 more years than Lenni, we learn much more about the older woman.  The problem is that her backstory dominates and Lenni’s past is only vaguely outlined.

In an interview included at the end of the novel, the author stated that “friendship is probably is the most important theme of the book.”  Certainly the narrative emphasizes that friendship can be found in the most unexpected of places.  I looked forward to reading about an intergenerational friendship, but the friendship between the protagonists is not really developed.  We don’t see the development of their relationship, as we do in Lenni’s friendship with Father Arthur and New Nurse.  Instead we are told that a friendship develops and the two go on to tell each other stories from their lives.  Hearing stories is not the same as having heartfelt conversations that develop connections. 

I enjoyed the interactions between Lenni and Father Arthur.  She is irreverent, inquisitive, and straight-forward.  She is witty and sarcastic.  He is caring, compassionate, and sensitive.  It is difficult not to like them so the bond the two form is understandable.  The relationship I had difficulty with is the one between Margot and Meena which receives a lot of attention.  I understand that Margot sees Meena as a free spirit, something she wishes she could be, but Meena just seems self-centred.  And if she’s such a rebel willing to engage in criminal escapades and willing to have an unorthodox relationship with The Professor, why is she so reticent to even discuss things with Margot?

While reading this novel, more than once I thought of the phrase, “If you love someone, set them free.”  Humphrey does that and so do Lenni and Margot at different times with different people.  Of course, the second part of the quote is important too:  “If they come back, they’re yours; if they don’t, they never were.”

This tear-jerker with its life –affirming message (life is possible even in the most inhospitable conditions) will appeal to many readers.  I didn’t hate the book, but I found it rather superficial.  I always check out any discussion questions at the back of a book.  The fact that 8 of the 20 questions (40%) refer only to the reader’s experiences and do not require any analysis of the book suggests there is really not much to analyze.  There are no answers to life’s – or Lenni’s – difficult questions, and the themes are not especially profound. 

Review of THE MYSTERY GUEST by Nita Prose (New Release)

 4 Stars

People who enjoyed The Maid will enjoy the return of Molly Gray in this sequel.

Molly is now 29 and has been promoted to Head Maid at the Regency Grand Hotel.  Because of her obsessiveness about cleanliness and returning things to “a state of perfection,” and her devotion to duty, she excels at her job.  There is a great deal of excitement about the opening of the hotel’s tearoom:  its first event is the appearance of a world-famous mystery writer, J. D. Grimthorpe, who is scheduled to make a major announcement.  But just as he takes the podium, he drops dead after ingesting poisoned tea.  Detective Stark, who suspected Molly of murder in The Maid, reappears to investigate.  Various suspects are considered, including Lily, the newest maid-in-training whom Molly insisted on being hired. 

Though J. D. Grimthorpe is a mysterious figure – I couldn’t help but think of J. D. Salinger – Molly’s thoughts reveal something important:  “I knew so much about the man who’d written [The Maid in the Mansion].  I knew a lot about the book itself as well.”  Interspersed amongst the sections about the investigation are flashbacks to Molly’s childhood visits to the Grimthorpes and their mansion where Gran worked as a maid.

As in the previous novel, much of the appeal of the book is the character of Molly.  She has not changed in that she remains honest, unfailingly polite, and hard working.  Her social awkwardness also remains, although she seems more adept at reading emotions and social cues.  Her maturity shows in her awareness of both her weaknesses (not noticing what is obvious to others) and strengths (being attuned to what others ignore).  She is a charming amateur sleuth in the vein of Flavia de Luce.

Molly’s reminiscences about the past are most interesting.  The reader learns more about Molly’s childhood; her experiences at school are especially heart-breaking.  We also discover more about Gran, the woman who raised Molly.  Gran is a woman whom the reader cannot but admire.  Her sayings serve to guide Molly.  Sometimes Molly’s constant repetition of these nuggets of wisdom becomes annoying, but of course routine and repetition are keys to how Molly functions in the world. 

Of course, Molly’s memories also serve another purpose:  they hold the clues to why Grimthorpe was murdered.  Because she was only ten years old when she visited the mansion and because she understood things in a very literal way, she was not able to interpret the meaning and significance of what she observed and heard.  The reader may understand things Molly does not, but will s/he ignore things Molly does not?  Certainly the clues are there from the beginning.

This cozy mystery is a quick, entertaining read with both sad and silly moments.  Sequels do not have the freshness of the originals, but this sequel is quite good.  Molly is an endearing character so it’s fun to spend some time in her company.  As she was taught by Gran, Molly focuses on the positive, and some escapist reading that ends with a positive message is just what we need in these dark days. 

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

Review of TOM LAKE by Ann Patchett

  4 Stars

This reflective novel highlights Patchett’s storytelling skills.  I loved it.

Lara and her husband Joe own a cherry orchard in Michigan.  Because of the pandemic lockdown, their three daughters are home and helping to bring in the harvest.  To help pass the hours of grueling work, the girls beg their mother to tell the story of her relationship with Peter Duke, a famous actor.  Slowly Lara tells them of her short career as an actress and her romance with Duke when she was 24 and starring as Emily in Thornton Wilder’s Our Town in a summer stock theatre in Tom Lake. 

Though all three daughters have bought into the mythology of Duke, they have very different personalities.  Emily, 26, has studied horticulture and has decided she will take over the family business; she has a fiery temperament.  Maisie, 24, is studying to be a veterinarian; her pragmatism is what stands out.  Nell, 22, is studying drama in hopes of becoming an actress; she is very intuitive, always anticipating what comes next in her mother’s story. 

The three young women think that they know their mother, but as Lara narrates her backstory, they come to see her not just as a loving and protective mother but as a complex human being who had a very different life when she was their age.  They come to understand that she had desires like they do, but that she also has experienced loss.  Of course, their views of Duke also change:  he’s not just the handsome and charismatic world-famous actor they have read about and seen in films. 

Initially, the daughters expect that their mother regrets giving up a glamourous life as an actress.  Lara, however, has no such regrets:  “’You wake up one day and you don’t want the carnival anymore.  In fact, you can’t even believe you did that.’”  She even confides, “’it doesn’t feel anything like regret.  It feels like I just missed getting hit by a train.’”  I love her comment, “’Look at [the beauty of the trees]!  Look at the three of you.  You think my life would have been better spent making commercials for lobster rolls?’” 

The daughters also think that their mother’s romance with Duke was such a pivotal event that they can only wonder “’How do you ever get over someone like that?’”  But Lara seldom thinks about Duke.  She sees the summer of 1988 as her coming-of-age season, a summer that taught her a great deal.  Though “most of those lessons I would have gladly done without,” she realizes that it also brought her Joe, the farm, and three daughters.  She was betrayed and wounded, but she has left any sorrow or anger behind.  I love her statement that “The past need not be so all-encompassing that it renders us incapable of making egg salad.”

Lara concludes, “There is no explaining this simple truth about life:  you will forget much of it.  The painful things you were certain you’d never be able to let go?  Now you’re not entirely sure when they happened, while the thrilling parts, the heart-stopping joys, splintered and scattered and became something else.  Memories are then replaced by different joys and larger sorrows, and unbelievably, those things also get knocked aside as well.”  I certainly agree with her comment that “we remember the people we hurt so much more clearly than the people who hurt us.”

The play Our Town, which was central to Lara’s life as an actress, has as its theme the idea that people do not appreciate what life has to offer.  It is the ordinary things in life that often go unnoticed that are the most important.  Lara has taken this lesson to heart.  She is content with her life in the present; she is grateful for her life.  Beauty and suffering exist together:  they are living through a pandemic, “this unparalleled disaster,” that has overturned their lives, but she also thinks of this as “the happiest time of my life [because] Joe and I are here on this farm, our three girls grown and gone and then returned, all of us working together to take the cherries off the trees.”

The passage of time is inevitable, as are loss, suffering, and death, but there is beauty in even the most ordinary of lives and loves.  This life-affirming message is timely and it is delivered in a beautiful story told in beautiful prose - a tale of gratitude for which to be grateful.

Review of WE SHALL INHERIT THE WIND by Gunnar Staalesen

 3.5 Stars

When I asked for suggestions for a new detective series to listen to during walks, a friend recommended the Varg Veum series by Gunnar Staalesen, who is often described as the father of Nordic noir.  I began with We Shall Inherit the Wind though I understand it is not the first of the series.  As so often happens, not all the books have been translated and translations do not always begin at the beginning.  Nonetheless, this book turned out to be a good place to start since it marks a major change in Varg’s life.

Varg, whose name means wolf, is an ex-social worker who has become a private investigator working in Bergen, Norway.  Ranveig Mæland, a friend of Varg’s fiancée Karin, asks Varg to investigate the disappearance of her husband Mons.  Mons owns land on a remote island which is being considered for a controversial wind farm.  Just as all interested parties and opponents to the plan are to gather on the island, Mons has gone missing.  As Varg searches for Mons and later checks into a land sale, he uncovers business and family secrets.

The book touches not only on disappearances, one in the past and one in the present, and dubious business dealings but also on environmental terrorism and religious fanaticism. 

Varg is a likeable character though he is, as he readily admits, not perfect.  He will not stop until all his questions are answered and though this may be admirable, it is also a flaw.  This determination has him making an error for which he pays a tragically high price.  Yet afterwards, even when the case is finished, he continues investigating on his own because he wants to confirm his suspicions about an unsolved case from the past. 

Another trait that stands out is his stoicism.  He rarely displays his feelings, though his thoughts reveal that he is capable of deep emotions.  The ending suggests that difficulties may lie ahead for Varg because he doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings. 

Varg is 56 years old; as befits his age, he is more old-fashioned in his approach.  He relies on deductive reasoning; he is not the gun-toting tough guy who manhandles suspects. 

My one problem with the book is the names of the characters, and there are lots of them.  Because I was listening, not reading, I often became confused with the many similar-sounding names who, to me, are foreign. 

I appreciate that though there are some unexpected twists, the clues are there.  Things that didn’t feel right prove to have not felt right for a legitimate reason.  All the reader has to do is pay close attention and, like Varg, use his/her deductive thinking skills.

I quite enjoyed my introduction to this series, so much so that I’ve already downloaded the next book.  I look forward to spending my morning walks in the company of Varg Veum. 

Review of HIS FAVOURITE GRAVES by Paul Cleave

 4 Stars

Anyone researching the definition of a thriller will find reference to a fast-paced, plot-driven narrative with unexpected twists, complex, morally-compromised characters, lots of action and suspense, and an exploration of the dark side of human nature.  Anyone looking for an excellent example of a thriller should read His Favourite Graves.

James Cohen, sheriff of Acacia Pines, a small American town, has a plethora of problems:  his father, who suffers from dementia, has moved in after burning down a retirement home in which a resident died; his wife Cass has moved out; his son Nathan is bullying schoolmates; and he has major financial obligations which he cannot fulfill.  When a teenager, Lucas Connor, is abducted, the sheriff sees a way to misdirect the manhunt for the kidnapper in such a way that he can claim the reward money being offered.  His desperation has him engaging in illegal and immoral acts from which there is no return.  Of course, things do not go as planned:  a number of complications arise as does the number of victims. 

Three perspectives are given:  that of the sheriff (first-person), that of Lucas (third-person), and that of the kidnapper (third person).  All sections are told in present tense, and for first-person narration this is sometimes awkward.  Would a person really narrate the following as it’s happening:  “he hits me with the shovel.  I tumble down the rest of the stairs, the gun and the phone flying out of my grip even before I smash into the basement floor”?

The pace is certainly fast.  Everything (and that’s a lot) happens in the span of only four days.  Short, snappy chapters add to the feeling of breakneck speed.  And the various jaw-dropping twists compel the reader to keep turning the pages.

I appreciated the complexity of the characters; no one is purely good or totally evil.  The background of characters makes their actions credible, though sometimes they do seem somewhat over-the-top.  Cohen is a wonderful example of a multi-faceted character; he’s a good man who is respected by his colleagues but he finds himself in desperate circumstances and so makes unwise decisions.  He even knows that his choices are not good ones, but he’s under so much pressure that he feels he has few options.  He acts in a moment of spontaneity and then cannot undo what he has done without major consequences.  It is impossible to totally condemn him, just as it’s impossible to have no sympathy for the other flawed and damaged characters, perpetrators but victims too. 

The book is dark as it touches on subjects like child abuse, extreme bullying, alcoholism, mental illness, and murder.  The darkness even extends to the black humour; one character, when wrapping a body in polythene, muses, “They’ve had it lying around since the renovations were done, and he thinks environmentalists would be happy they’ve found a use for it, rather than seeing it end up in a landfill.”

Besides examining the effects of abuse and mental illness, the novel also explores father/son relationships.  Nathan’s relationship with his father, Lucas’s relationship with his father, and the kidnapper’s relationship with his foster father all impact the sons and thereby influence their actions.  The nature/nurture question comes into play, as does the question of what a father would do to protect his child. 

I have no reservations about recommending this book to people who enjoy intense psychological thrillers.  I would advise readers to read slowly and carefully because the author is a master at misdirection.  Clues are everywhere and every tidbit of information is significant, but the tension is such that readers will feel compelled to read quickly to see what happens next. 

Review of THE OBSERVER by Marina Endicott (New Release)

 4 Stars

This novel depicts the struggles of RCMP officers and their partners in small rural communities. 

The setting is the 1990s in a fictional small town in northern Alberta.  Julia, the narrator, is a playwright and dramaturge who pauses her career to move with her partner Hardy to Medway where he has his first posting.  She takes a part-time position as editor of the local weekly newspaper, a job which helps her to learn about the community.

Life is not easy for either Hardy or Julia.  Hardy works long hours and is often exhausted physically and emotionally by what he witnesses on a regular basis:  “He was having a hard time in the mill of stress and exhaustion and heartsickness that overtakes any thoughtful person who does police work.” Unwilling and unable to talk with Julia, Hardy suffers in silence:  “talking was a double problem for Hardy:  a problem of security and of privacy, a problem both legal and spiritual.  Nothing he did at work could ever be told, for security reasons but also out of decency.”  The stress and daily exposure to “venal, pointless crime, the waste of intelligence and youth and substance,” and violence and death take a mental toll, resulting in a “weariness of mind and soul.”

Julia struggles as well.  Initially she has no job so feels adrift.  As an outsider, she has difficulty learning about the customs of a rural community:  “There were a lot of rules that I did not yet know or understand.  In the two months we’d been here, over and over I had leaped to a conclusion only to discover that I’d been wrong or misinformed, or prejudiced by my earlier urban life.”  She does meet other RCMP wives but “all the other wives seemed to accept and naturally understand the natural flow of this life that was so foreign to me.”  At RCMP social gatherings, she finds “So many people to catalogue and remember, so much hierarchy to understand.”  Though some women do step forward to help her, Julia finds that she “had to pick things up by osmosis, or by stealth.”  The newspaper job helps her to meet people and make connections within the community.

Besides feeling lonely because she is an outsider, she also feels lonely because she is virtually abandoned by Hardy who is often not home because of work.  Hardy’s silence about work when he is home only adds to Julia’s worry because her imagination goes wild as she thinks of all the terrible things that could happen to him.  Then there’s the almost constant fearful waiting for Hardy to come home unharmed.  Hardy’s description of their “’living in one long emergency’” is so apt.  And then there’s Julia’s sense of powerlessness; she sees her husband struggling with the stresses of his job, but doesn’t know what she can do to help him; she is only aware of her “inability to affect anything or be of help, no matter what got thrown.  I prayed all the time, insufficiently, for Hardy.”  She fears that, like a former officer in the town, Hardy might commit suicide. 

The novel is slow paced, but there is a lot of tension.  Readers who remember the Mayerthorpe incident will be aware of the dangers of life for people in law enforcement.  I was always wondering what was going to happen to Hardy.  Would he be harmed or killed at work?  Would he get the help he needs for his PTSD?  Would Julia and Hardy’s relationship survive?   

Though the book is generally serious, there are touches of humour.  Having grown up in a small town, I smiled at Julia’s learning that being told not to bring anything to a social gathering meant “a square might be nice.”  And I loved Jerome, an enormous bison named “’after that giraffe puppet who sticks his head into the house on TV.’” 

Julia comments, “I kept seeing things that made me revise my former opinions about police, opinions formed by my repugnance for the idea of police authority in general, and by my fear and ignorance.”  This novel, based on the experiences of the author and her RCMP husband, may revise some people’s opinions about police, especially when there are calls to defund the police.  Julia tries being a substitute teacher and concludes, “Teaching high school is the worst job in the world, and those who do it are not paid nearly enough.”  As a former high school teacher, I appreciate that sentiment, but the book shows that policing may be the worst job in the world. 

Because of its honest depiction of the realities of life for rural police and their partners, this book is a necessary read. 

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

Review of THE WREN, THE WREN by Anne Enright (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

I read this book while travelling so perhaps was not able to give it the attention it needs, but I had difficulty remaining engaged. 

The novel focuses on two women, Carmel and her daughter Nell, but Phil McDaragh, Carmel’s father, looms large.  Phil deserted his wife Terry when she was diagnosed with breast cancer, leaving her in the care of their two daughters, Imelda aged 17 and Carmel, 12.  A philanderer and wanderer, he focused on writing poetry and became “the finest love poet of his generation.”  The novel examines the emotional and psychological effect his rejection has on his youngest daughter and his granddaughter. 

Carmel becomes a very pragmatic person.  Because of her father’s behaviour, she is cautious around men.  She does not really want a man in her life; being a single mother is just fine for her.  She focuses on her career as a teacher and on her daughter, becoming rather possessive about Nell.  Carmel does have a relationship with a man whom she repeatedly describes as nice, but when he has a health crisis, she abandons him. 

Nell is much more of a free spirit who wants to escape her mother’s possessiveness.  She yearns to travel and write.  Perhaps her being fatherless has affected her ability to form a healthy relationship with a man.  One relationship is with a man who can only be described as abusive; his behaviour is not unlike Phil’s.  Nell yearns to travel and write and turns to her grandfather’s poetry for comfort, even getting a tattoo of a line from one of his poems. 

Chapters alternate between the two women.  Carmel’s sections are in third person, but Nell’s are in first person, often in a stream-of-consciousness style.  Interspersed are some poems written by Phil and some of his translations of old Irish poetry.  Phil also has a chapter, a childhood memoir which does explain to some extent how his upbringing influenced his adulthood. 

Unfortunately, I did not like any of the characters.  I found Carmel dull and Nell tedious.  Imelda is a bully.  And Phil, of course, is a cad.  His explanation for desertion reveals a pathological selfishness:  “’She got sick, unfortunately, and the marriage did not survive.’”  Men in general do not fare well.  There’s Felim, an abuser, and Ronan and David are nice but bland. 

Obviously, the novel is about generational trauma.  There is no doubt that both Carmel and Nell, and Imelda too, are haunted by Phil’s treachery.  Their relationships with each other and with men in general suffer because of his abandonment and abuse, and to some extent, they repeat the cycle.  The women realize that they cannot escape the past; watching an old video interview with her grandfather, Nell sees “my aunt Imelda’s wry, sour little aside.  Carmel’s hunchy way of sitting forward, the same emphatic finger.  He has my quick twist of a smirk at the end of a sentence . . . The McDaraghs are all jumbled up inside him.”  She concludes, “The connection between us is more than a strand of DNA, it is a rope thrown from the past, a fat twisted rope, full of blood.”

As I mentioned at the beginning, I was not able to give the book a great deal of attention so perhaps that is why I found it fractured and fragmented, ambiguous and vague.  Despite its gorgeous language, it often felt like a series of disjointed vignettes so I was sometimes frustrated and confused. 

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

Review of BAUMGARTNER by Paul Auster (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This short novel is reflective, and tender – a detailed character study and poignant portrayal of aging. 

Septuagenarian Sy Baumgartner is an author and philosophy professor at Princeton.  His life has been defined by his love for Anna, his wife who died in a swimming accident almost a decade earlier.  Via his revisited memories and some of his and Anna’s writings, we learn about Sy’s youth in Newark, the background of his parents, his first meetings with Anna, and their 40-year relationship. 

This novel is character-driven, not plot-driven.  Not much happens.  The narrative follows Sy’s recollections which do not follow a chronological order.  The style, almost stream-of-consciousness, approximates how memories work.  Sentences are often very lengthy, again suggesting the flow of memories. 

I found Sy, whose full name is Seymour Tecumseh Baumgartner, a relatable character since I too am in my twilight years when there are more years behind than ahead of me.  He’s intelligent and has a great sense of humour.  He’s coming to terms with his past, especially the losses he has experienced, and the present and what lies ahead with the mental and physical challenges of aging. 

It is Sy’s grieving of the loss of Anna that stands out.  He describes himself as a human stump whose “innermost part” is dead:   “a half man who has lost the half of himself that had made him whole, and yes, the missing limbs are still there, and they still hurt, hurt so much that he sometimes feels his body is about to catch fire and consume him on the spot.”   

Nonetheless he still wants to live, even if “to live is to feel pain.”  He knows that “to live in fear of pain is to refuse to live” so he accepts that and decides to follow his father’s wishes that he “fight the good fight.”  An unexpected letter gives Sy a new lease on life; as he awaits the arrival of Beatrix Coen, whom he describes as a bookend of his life, he “is half out of his skin with anticipation, like a restless boy counting down the days until school lets out for the summer.” 

Then there’s an abrupt ending; its ambiguity will leave many readers unsatisfied and perhaps even angry.  I found it perfect.  The last event is so ironic in light of Baumgartner’s overwhelming fears for Beatrix.  And considering the central metaphor of his last book which he has just finished writing, his experiencing a “breakdown in the heart of motor city” is just so apropos. 

This quiet novel with its introspective protagonist made me think of Elizabeth Strout’s novels, particularly the Amgash series featuring Lucy Barton.   Readers wanting an action-filled book should look elsewhere, but readers who enjoy reflective novels which examine the complexities of relationships and the human condition are in for a treat. 

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

Review of THE MAP OF SALT AND STARS by Zeyn Joukhadar

3.5 Stars 

Because the subject matter of this book deserves attention, I wanted to love it.  Unfortunately, I found the execution lacking so I was less than enthralled.

There are two timelines.  One begins in 2011.  After the death of her father, 12-year-old Nour moves with her mother, a cartographer, and two sisters, Huda and Zahra, from Manhattan to Homs, Syria.  When their home is bombed, the family is forced to flee.  They become refugees travelling from country to country.  To comfort herself, Nour remembers a fantastical tale her father used to tell her; this story, set in the twelfth century, is the second timeline.  Sixteen-year-old Rawiya disguises herself as a boy and runs away to become an apprentice for a legendary mapmaker, Al-Idrisi.  Travelling with him as he charts trade routes, she encounters mythical beasts and fights in epic battles.

There are many parallels between the two storylines.  Fatherless girls disguised as boys travel the same geographical region in the company of a mapmaker.  Both encounter many dangers on their journeys, dangers which are sometimes life-threatening.  Both girls become heroines of sorts.  Sometimes there seems to be too much of an effort to match events in the two stories (the roc’s attack on a ship and the shelling of a ferry) so the plot feels contrived.  The intersection of the two narratives at the end also seems forced. 

I found Nour to be a somewhat unconvincing character.  For a pre-teen, she sometimes behaves like a child and at other times speaks and thinks like someone much older, someone much wiser than her years.  She knows little Arabic but then seems to understand it? The book is heavy on symbolism - maps, salt, stars, stones - yet Nour understands the meanings?   Nour thinks, “I want to make something good out of what was bad, something precious out of something small.  Like the raw blue stone Abu Sayeed showed me, ugly and humble in the earth.”  Of course the same can be said of Rawiya who shows amazing Rambo-like skill in battles (“She fired six stones, one after another, gashing her attackers’ shins and bruising their bellies until they dropped to the ground), but I am more willing to suspend disbelief when reading a fantastical tale.

Nour’s mother is also problematic.  Why would she endanger her daughters by bringing them back to a country on the verge of civil war?  When waiting to take a ferry, this educated woman doesn’t think of buying tickets for the passage?  When Huda suffers an injury, Mama doesn’t behave with as much concern as I’d expect until things become dire.  Then she sends off two daughters on their own without explaining where they should go?  During their travels she somehow finds time to work on a map and then gives it to Nour without explanation?  By being less than straight-forward, she endangers Nour and Zahra.

The style is lyrical with a lot of descriptions made vivid because of Nour’s synesthesia.  I’d love to know how many times a colour is mentioned.  The problem is the narrative becomes weighed down with too much description.

The same is true of the explanation of warring factions in Rawiya’s story:  “In those days, the lands were pockmarked by the bloody snarls of disputes between the Seljuqs the Fatimids, and the Crusaders” and “the Fatimid Empire feared not only the Kingdom of Jerusalem and Nur ad-Din’s new stronghold in ash-Sham, but also Berber forces massing in the west near Barneek and the Gulf of Sidra – the mighty Almohads.”  So much information can be overwhelming.  What would have helped is a map.

The plot is also suffocated by characters lapsing into profound words of wisdom.  Al-Idrisi says, “’Stories are powerful . . . but gather too many of the words of others in your heart, and they will drown out your own’” and Khaldun repeats, “’But once you’ve heard too many voices, you start to forget which one is your own.’”   Huda repeats almost the same to her sister:  “’it’s important to know who you are.  You can get lost. . . . You have to listen to your own voice.’”  Nour thinks, “Things change too much.  We’ve always got to fix the maps, repaint the borders of ourselves.”  Abu Sayeed translates an old man’s words, “’stories ease the pain of living, not dying.  People always think dying is going to hurt.  But it does not.  It’s living that hurts us.’”  Rawiya observes that “It was a noble thing . . . to seek beauty in a calloused world.”  The sheer number of these pearls of wisdom does not ring true.

I’ve read other books which I think better convey the plight of Syrian refugees.  Two of the most noteworthy are Silence is a Sense by Layla AlAmmar and What Strange Paradise by Omar El Akkad.  Perhaps the constant switching between two narratives kept me from totally engaging with the characters.  And one thing that struck me is that the flight of Nour’s family at the beginning seems almost too easy:  they simply walk into a hospital in Damascus and get medical attention?  They never encounter roadblocks when driving across Syria?  Strangers virtually adopt them? 

As I stated at the beginning, I wanted to love this book but I found it a plodding read at times.  I had a difficult time staying with it; putting it down was easy.  I stuck with it only because it was a book club choice.  Hopefully others will enjoy it more because the experiences of Syrian refugees and those from other countries need to be known.