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). 

Review of MRS. VAN GOGH by Caroline Cauchi

 2.5 Stars

I am by no means an art expert, but I love the work of Vincent Van Gogh.  I’ve been fortunate to be able to visit Nuenen in the Netherlands where he lived from 1883 to 1885 and to tour the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam.  In fact, the cover of the tablet on which I read many books is a copy of “Almond Blossoms”. 

According to the book blurb, this novel purports to give voice to Johanna Van Gogh-Bonger, Vincent Van Gogh’s sister-in-law, the key player in the growth of Vincent's posthumous fame:  “The tireless efforts of one woman gave the world one of its greatest creative minds.”  The problem is that this book gives scant information about these “tireless efforts.”  Vincent’s death is announced on page 354 of the book, just 100 pages before the end.  So obviously, Johanna’s efforts are not the focus.

Instead, the book details Johanna’s arrival in Paris, and her meeting, courtship, and marriage to art dealer Theo Van Gogh, Vincent’s younger brother.  The artist’s struggles with mental health and Theo’s unfailing financial and emotional support of his brother are also detailed. 

Pacing is an issue.  The first 379 pages cover the time period between the summer of 1888 and the winter of 1891.  The remaining 75 pages span from the winter of 1891 to the fall of 1925, with two additional pages devoted to the spring of 1990!  The novel drags and then the last section is rushed; Johanna’s life after Theo’s death, including her second marriage, is largely dismissed.  In the Author’s Note, Cauchi acknowledges that she is not a biographer or historian so she has been very creative; the impression I have is that she just used the Van Gogh name to attract readers to what is really a historical romance.  She has not done anything to reclaim Johanna’s importance in art history.

For such an important figure, Johanna does not come across as admirable.  For much of the book, instead of intellectual, she seems just silly and stupid.  When a public meeting with Vincent proves to be potentially damaging to her reputation, what does she do but rush out to meet with him again?!  And this is the behaviour of a woman whose reputation has already been tarnished by an affair?!  She’s naïve, petulant, and impulsive.  Then she has an epiphany, realizing she is “truly full of flaws” and no longer wants to be an artist but “to learn about art and the selling of art.”  Yet these lessons never seem to occur.  Having taken only one art history course and only one art appreciation course, I know more than she does . . . at least that’s what this book suggests. 

The novel does touch on how women were viewed in the late 19^th century:  “Vincent’s behaviour will be excused as eccentricity, but if I’d left in a similar way, my brother would be dragging me back in to the parlour by my skirts.”  The problems of female artists, ridiculed and ostracized in the art world, are discussed:  male artists could study the naked form but a woman’s sculpture featuring any nudity was considered obscene.  Johanna observes that “The women of France are irrelevant and Eiffel’s [phallic] tower is unapologetic about that.”

The book also questions whether there is a connection between madness and creativity:  “the stepping into insanity and the producing of ‘true art’ seem to dance alongside each other.”  Is pain necessary to create?  The existence of a link between creativity and mental health is a topic of interest to me. 

The writing style is repetitive.  For instance, everyone laughs from their belly?  “Vincent laughs from his belly” (94) and “[Rodin] laughs from his belly in response” (100) and Andries, Johanna’s brother, “laughs from his belly” (136) and “Theo laughs from his belly” (141) and “Agostina laughs from her belly” (156)!?  How many times must the same French words be repeated again and again?  Johanna always mentions sitting on the confidante and whenever she’s outdoors she always refers to the fiacres with their coachmen yelling “Hé, la-bas!”

The book’s marketing is deceiving.  Though its title may appeal to art lovers, the novel offers little of substance.  People interested in really learning about Johanna Van Gogh-Bonger should read Jo van Gogh-Bonger: The Woman Who Made Vincent Famous by Hans Luijten.

Review of PET by Catherine Chidgey

 4 Stars

Remote Sympathy by Catherine Chidgey was one of my favourite books of 2022, so I thought I’d read this one by her.  It came out last summer.  It did not disappoint:  it’s truly compelling psychological suspense.

There are two timelines.  Most of the events take place in 1984 in Wellington, New Zealand.  Twelve-year-old Justine Crieve, like virtually all of her classmates, is drawn to Mrs. Price, their glamorous and charismatic teacher.  Justine is very happy when she is chosen as one of the teacher’s pets.  However when items start going missing in the classroom, including a special pen owned by Justine, she senses that something is not quite right.  Then when her best friend, Amy Fong, is scapegoated as the thief, Justine must decide where her loyalties lie.

The second timeline is 2014.  Justine is visiting her father in a nursing home and meets one of his caregivers who looks very much like Mrs. Price.  This encounter has Justine remembering the events of 30 years earlier.  It is made clear early on that something dramatic happened because Justine foreshadows that “everything went wrong.”

The uncertainty of what is really going on and what will happen creates suspense.  To complicate matters, Justine has epilepsy and her memory of events just before and after a seizure is often foggy.  Her unreliability as a narrator adds to the tension.

Characterization also adds to the uncertainty.  Mrs. Price is enigmatic and that is part of her allure.  There is certainly a dichotomy between her sweetness which seems superficial and some of her behaviour which borders on sadism.  She creates an atmosphere of competitiveness amongst her pupils, though she repeats that they are all family.  When Justine gets to know her teacher better, there are more questions.  What are those pills that Mrs. Price is always taking?  One of Justine’s friends says Mrs. Price is manipulative and that struck me as the perfect adjective.  Because Justine’s mother died recently, Mrs. Price takes advantage of Justine’s vulnerability. 

It is not just Mrs. Price’s actions and words that are unsettling.  The book includes examples of racism, bullying, objectification of women, and colonial mentality.  For instance, Amy, because she is of Asian heritage, is routinely bullied and ostracized; more than once Amy is taunted to kill herself, yet Mrs. Price does nothing.  Body-shaming comments are made about beauty pageant contestants and other girls in the class.   And Mrs. Price teaches that the Aboriginal People were “among the most primitive on earth.”

The book is well-written.  I especially loved some of the symbolism.  The axolotl works well in showing how Mrs. Price treats the children:  just as the students become bored with the amphibian, she becomes bored with one pet and moves on to another.  And the reference to the axolotl’s ability to regenerate (“Resurrecting all the damaged and amputated parts of herself, and living forever”) is a perfect description of a character. 

Though the novel begins slowly, my interest was caught immediately and I found it difficult to pull myself away from it.  I certainly recommend it to those who enjoy psychological suspense. 

Review of A GREAT COUNTRY by Shilpi Somaya Gowda (New Release)

 4 Stars

This book asks about the possibility and price of the American dream.

Ashok and Priya Shah immigrated to the U.S. from India almost two decades earlier.  By working hard, they’ve achieved success, having recently moved to an affluent gated community in southern California.  Deepa, the eldest daughter, insists on staying at her old school with its multi-ethnic students, including her best friend Paco whose mother is undocumented.  However, Maya, the middle child, loves her new school and strives to be accepted by her wealthy classmates. 

One day, twelve-year-old Ajay, the youngest child, flies his homemade drone near an airport and is beaten and arrested as a terrorism suspect.  Because he is on the autism spectrum, though not diagnosed, his reactions complicate the situation.  As the Shahs struggle with the upheaval in their lives, the community at large becomes aware of Ajay’s arrest and the response is not always positive.

Multiple viewpoints are given.  The perspectives of Ashok, Priya, Deepa, and Maya are included regularly so we get to know them really well and understand their actions.  Ajay’s thoughts are also given occasionally, as are those of one of the arresting police officers. 

The Shahs see themselves as model immigrants.  Well-educated, they’ve worked hard and become upstanding citizens:  “they were a law-abiding, tax-paying family who had followed every single rule since arriving in the country with a proper visa and legal invitation to come.”  Despite their success and efforts not to draw attention to themselves, they encounter prejudice.  Ashok thinks about India “where the complex strictures of caste, privilege, and socioeconomic class were [difficult] to escape,” but he realizes he has exchanged these constraints “for the new challenges of being a visible minority and an obvious foreigner.”  He concludes, “America had its own version of a caste system – some visible minorities were on the bottom, hampered by discrimination and historical disadvantages, a constant headwind against their efforts.”

So the novel questions whether it is possible for immigrants to achieve the American dream:  “Is America truly a country where people can come from around the world to seek their version of the American dream, or a place where ancient biases and discrimination continue to reign?”  The Shahs belong to a “model minority” considered “smart and knowledgeable” and they have “managed to ascend to a higher rung,” but events show that they are not totally accepted.  It’s as if the message is “thus far and no further.” 

Of course, there are also questions about the meaning of success.  Ashok in particular thinks in terms of economic success, but he and Priya come to realize that material trappings do not guarantee happiness.  The family receives more support from outsiders and the middle-class community in which they lived previously. 

One aspect of the book that bothered me is that it borders on being didactic.  Some of the conversations so obviously touch on topics like immigration and racism:  “’When a community starts becoming successful, that is when the backlash starts.’”  Then there are statements like, “A country whose global advantage was its diversity born of immigration was turning its back on what had made it great.”  And a character’s thoughts become a history lesson:  “[Deepa’s] parents didn’t bother trying to see what life was like for Black people in this country, to understand the legacy of slavery and how it had reverberated through centuries of life in America:  Jim Crow, voter suppression, redlined districts, underfunded public schools.  Entire communities had been neglected when it came to infrastructure, from safe drinking water to access to fresh food and health care.”

Touching on themes of immigration, community, social class, stereotyping, racial profiling, white privilege, upward mobility, and generational conflict, this is a timely book with an important message.

Note:  I received a digital galley from publishers via NetGalley.

Review of A RULE AGAINST MURDER by Louise Penny

 3 Stars

The fourth Armand Gamache book takes place at the Manoir Bellechasse rather than in Three Pines. 

Armand and his wife Reine-Marie are staying at the exclusive resort to celebrate their wedding anniversary.  The other guests are the Finney family; they have gathered for a family reunion.  As expected, one of the Finneys is killed so Gamache and his team investigate.  The story has the feel of a locked-room mystery because the murderer is certainly one of the guests or staff.  What is particularly unusual is the method used to kill; it is even more of a mystery than the identity and motive of the killer.

In some ways it was a relief to have the book set outside of Three Pines because after the first three books, it felt like Cabot Cove.  For those missing the idyllic village, there is a visit where some of the residents make an appearance.  Clara and Peter Morrow once again are central figures.  The character of Peter has always troubled me to some extent, especially his jealousy, and this book does go a long way to explaining the reasons for his personality. 

There is a truly dysfunctional family in this book.  There is little to like about the Finneys; they are totally obnoxious, always making nasty comments to each other.  They hold grudges and resentments.  Behaviours that they adopted as children, as they competed for their father’s love and attention, continue into adulthood.  There are some attempts to show some positive qualities, but I found them unconvincing.  A loving father would be angry with his daughter when some graffiti defames and degrades her?  Why wouldn’t Irene Finney tell her adult children about her chronic pain that made even touch painful?  Surely saying something loving wouldn’t increase that pain?  And Marianne Finney is so intelligent and creative and successful, but names her child Bean so a grandmother won’t know her grandchild’s gender? 

There are other weak justifications for behaviour.  The killer’s motive is unconvincing since the victim is totally innocent and merely an expedient scapegoat.  And the method of murder takes days to execute so is it supposed to be a premeditated crime or a crime of passion?  And as in A Fatal Grace, there are so many variables that the killer could not control (like ensuring that the victim would be in a particular spot during a storm) so had to have a great deal of luck. 

Readers of Penny’s novels will find it easy to find the usual Penny touches.  There’s the detailed description of food, an overweight character, and the Agatha Christie gathering at the end.  I did find the tea party before the killer is taken into custody a bit over-the-top.  Gamache, again, is almost sanctified.  The climactic scene which also equates him as a Burgher of Calais willing to sacrifice himself for others is a bit much.  Attempts to give him flaws are weak because he always recognizes and admits his errors. 

Everything – except Bean’s gender – is tied up nicely at the end.  Since this book explains much about Peter Morrow, I am wondering whether further books in the series will delve into the backstories of other Three Pines characters.  I think other village residents probably have interesting histories as well.

Review of THE COLLAPSING WAVE by Doug Johnstone (New Release)

 4 Stars

This is the second book in The Enceladon Trilogy; it takes place six months after the end of The Space Between Us.

Ava is awaiting the verdict in her murder trial while Lennox and Heather are prisoners at New Broom, an American military base in Scotland where their ability to telepathically communicate with the Enceladons is being exploited.  Enceladons are being captured and subjected to barbaric experiments.  When Sandy makes contact, they execute an escape plan which ultimately leads to a confrontation between those who see these beings as a threat and those who understand that they could help create a better future for humanity.

As does the first novel, this one employs a multiple point of view structure.  The perspectives of Lennox, Ava, and Heather are given in alternating chapters.  The view of a fourth character, Oscar Fellowes, the antagonist of The Space Between Us, is also added.  He understands that he was wrong and now wants only to learn from and about the Enceladons, though Ava, Lennox, and Heather are mistrustful of him.

The main villain is General Ryan Carson who is charge of New Broom.  He represents all of the worst of humanity, turning “first contact with an alien species into some pest-control exercise,” and insisting that the Enceladons, whom he considers “an existential threat to humanity,” be called illegals.  Arrogant and drunk with power, he has no concern for the law or anyone’s welfare.  He’s willing to manipulate and ab/use anyone, even an infant, in order to achieve his goal of preventing alien domination.  Incarceration and physical and emotional torture are his tools.  He clearly states his belief that “’Might is right, that’s all there is to it.  Humans were designed to take what we can and exploit it.  It’s kill or be killed, eat or be eaten.’” 

Ironically, it is the Enceladons who behave humanely.  They don’t understand war and are unable to lie.  Ava believes they don’t “comprehend how humanity worked.  They were too innocent, open and caring.”  In many ways, the Enceladons are foils for humans.  Oscar points out that humans fear intelligent creatures:  “’We hate that something else will see humans for the monsters we really are.  Seeing humanity from the outside, what we do to each other and our planet, that’s terrifying.’”  Lennox agrees:  “Humans were nasty, craven, violent and selfish, and the Enceladons brought that into sharp relief.”  But of course the Enceldons are perceived as a threat because “they pointed towards a new way of being, and that was threatening to the status quo.”

In The Space Between Us, the limitations of humans are delineated.  In The Collapsing Wave, this idea reappears.  Oscar thinks, “Energy all around him that he couldn’t see with his pathetic human senses.  Birds navigated by sensing magnetic fields, some fish sent electrical messages, dogs lived in a world of scents.  In one way, it wasn’t surprising the Enceladons had telepathy, just another extension of the animal kingdom’s sensory experience.  And here he was, stuck with his limited human brain, trying to understand it.”    

The novel’s theme is stated clearly.  Lennox realizes that “Reality is not things, it’s the connections between things.”  Sandy emphasizes that “Communication is connection, life is connection.”  And Ava agrees:  “Imagine if everyone knew what everyone else was feeling?  Surely the world would be better, we would have more empathy.”   The implication is that our lack of connection is responsible for the “inequality, violence, poverty, hatred, wars, famine, disease, destruction.  Hate, hate, hate, all the way down to the core of what it is to be human.”  It is wonderful to see when people, like Lennox and Vonnie, do achieve a special connection.  Certainly the Outwithers, camped near New Broom, are drawn to the Enceladons “by some dream, a sense it was vital.”  While they wait, they create “a sense of community.”

There are some weaknesses that irritated me.  I found it difficult to believe that New Broom was built in six months and is “not subject to British or international law”?  If the latter is indeed the case, why is there a court martial and why would Mendoza still have a treason charge hanging over him?  Carson with his lack of redeeming qualities comes across as a cartoon-type villain.  And the thriller-style standoff struck me as too over-the-top, though I understand its entertainment value. 

As I read, I often thought of films I’ve seen and books I’ve read.  E.T. the Extraterrestrial came to mind, but so did The Shape of Water.  When reading about Chloe, I was even reminded of Petra in The Chrysalids by John Wyndham, and I wonder whether Chloe will play a pivotal role in the next book.  I taught The Chrysalids many times when I was a teacher, and if I were still teaching, I think I’d use The Enceladon Trilogy. 

Speculative fiction featuring octopus-like aliens is not my typical genre, but this series is so well-written that I’m definitely a fan.  Action-packed with lots of tension because of almost constant danger for the protagonists, it is entertaining.  But more than that, it is thought-provoking.  It left me agreeing that we do indeed live in “a post-truth world now, full of lies and misinformation,” and thinking about our treatment of “refugees fleeing some kind of climate crisis or invading violence” and how “Human exceptionalism had fucked Earth, it was the reason for climate change, imperialism, wars, slavery, capitalism.” 

Like The Space Between Us, The Collapsing Wave is more about human beings than it is about aliens.

Review of THE SWAN'S NEST by Laura McNeal (New Release)

 4 Stars

When I was an English teacher, I taught Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnets from the Portuguese (especially “How Do I Love Thee?”) and Robert Browning’s dramatic monologues like “My Last Duchess,” “Porphyria’s Lover,” and “The Bishop Orders his Tomb at St. Praxed’s Church”.  And of course I told students about the courtship and marriage of these two 19^th-century poets.  This novel, based on extensive research, is a fictionalized account of that love affair.

Elizabeth Barrett is already a successful, well-known poet when Robert Browning, a younger and less popular poet, writes to her praising her work.  An admirer of his innovative, obscure poems, she is ecstatic.  Robert begs to meet her but she has been confined to her home for almost her entire life because of a debilitating illness.  She keeps delaying their meeting:  “There must never come a day when Mr. Browning saw her as she was, a person, a body instead of a mind.  There must never come a day when she had to see him being disappointed in what she was.” 

Five months later, the meeting does eventually take place.  Romance blooms, but Robert has difficulty convincing Elizabeth to marry him.  She fears her father’s reaction, knowing that he will see the impecunious Robert as wanting to wed her because she has a degree of financial independence.  Elopement means a long, tiring journey for them, especially for Elizabeth because of her precarious health. 

Besides the love affair, the book touches on other topics.  Because some of the Barrett money is derived from a Jamaican sugar plantation, the issues of racism and slavery are discussed.  A subplot deals with Edward Barrett, the family patriarch, refusing to acknowledge the illegitimate child of his son and a black servant.  One of Elizabeth’s brothers is attracted to a woman, but her abolitionist views make her an unacceptable partner.

The differences between the lives of men and women are also depicted.  Women’s lives tend to be narrow and restricted.  Robert, for instance, though he cannot travel in luxury, is able to travel freely.  His sister Sarianna, however, is trapped by her gender, financial dependence, and family responsibilities.  While her brother is away, she is expected to look after her parents.  The sections from her point of view are heart-breaking; she asks herself, “how many times could you look at the same view?  The view that would be hers next year, and the next.”  Arabella, Elizabeth’s youngest sister, is in the same position.  Even though Elizabeth has money of her own, she is expected to do as her father wishes.  Englishmen in charge of plantations in Jamaica are free to have mistresses who are often abandoned to look after any children from these liaisons while “’the men are never punished, unless they are Black.’”

The protagonists are realistic because both are flawed.  Though we might know them as famous poets, Elizabeth has a laudanum/morphine addiction, and Robert proves to be naïve in his lack of preparations for their trip to Italy.  He has to be rescued by a woman!  The villain is certainly Elizabeth’s father who is a stern, controlling tyrant.  He believes he knows what is best for Elizabeth; he even refuses to send her to a warmer climate for the winter despite a doctor’s strong recommendations.  He wants none of his children to marry, probably because he is concerned about the family’s dwindling finances:  “Protecting a smaller and smaller fortune from lawyers and extended family has given him a horror of wills and additional descendants.’”  Elizabeth loves her father but she concedes that “his disapproval of men and marriages never stopped being what it was:  illogical and cruel to everyone except himself, benevolent and protective in his own mind.” 

One aspect that I found problematic is the point of view.  The perspective of various characters is given and that I enjoyed.  It’s just that characters appear and then disappear.  For instance, we are given the perspective of Elizabeth’s sister Henrietta but then she seems to be replaced her younger sister Arabella.  Sarianna is given attention at the beginning, but then she too is given short shrift.  As a consequence, the novel feels disjointed at times. 

I thoroughly enjoyed the book.  It is not just about the romance between Elizabeth and Robert; it also depicts the harsh realities of racism and the restrictions women faced at the time.  Whether familiar or not with Elizabeth and Robert’s poetry or love story, readers will find much to enjoy in this novel. 

Note:  Lovers of Browning’s poem “My Last Duchess” should also read The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O’Farrell, a novel based on that dramatic monologue (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2022/11/review-of-marriage-portrait-by-maggie.html). 

I received an eARC of the book from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of AFTER ANNIE by Anna Quindlen (New Release)

 4 Stars

This quiet novel is a powerful study of grief.

The book covers the first year following the sudden death of Annie Brown in her mid-thirties.  Those who experience her loss most strongly are her husband Bill, her four children, a best friend, and the people she helped care for in her job as a nursing home aide.  The focus is on Annie’s husband, her eldest child Ali, and her best friend Annemarie. 

There is no one way or right way to grieve and that is clearly shown.  Bill becomes unmoored and tries to fill an emotional void by reconnecting with a former girlfriend.  Ali takes on her mother’s role by caring for her three younger brothers and her father.  Annemarie, a recovering drug addict, returns to destructive behaviours.  The three sons show their distress in different ways. 

This is very much a novel of character.  All characters, even the more minor ones, feel authentic.  Except perhaps for Bill’s mother, they are basically good people who have flaws.  Bill, for instance, loves his children but is clueless in many ways; after Annie’s death he describes himself as being “without a map or a guidebook” for his life.  He makes the mistake of not talking about Annie with his children and has to learn that “’sadness shouldn’t lead to silence.’” 

Though Annie speaks only one sentence in the entire book, her character is also developed because we get to know her through others.  We learn about her strengths and what was important to her.  She loved her family, friend, and clients.  She had a great sense of humour, appreciated the simple things in life, and took joy in her job and roles as wife and mother.  Most of what we learn is positive but given the circumstances, that makes sense; in fact, Ali wonders “whether anyone ever said true things about people after they were dead, or whether dead people were always perfect, or at least very, very good.”   For instance, Ali realizes “No one said, I wouldn’t want to get on Annie’s bad side, although that was true.”  The more we get to know about Annie, the more we feel the characters’ loss. 

There are many positive messages.  Annie is an ordinary person who has an extraordinary impact so the reader is reminded that anyone can make a lasting impression.  All those she loved continue to hear Annie’s voice in their heads so no one loved is ever truly gone.  When Bill starts mentioning Annie in his conversations with his children, they see that he is not trying to forget her:  memories provide comfort as one grieves.  There is also an underlying idea that life is a privilege not given to everyone, so it’s important to embrace life.

Because of its subject matter, this book is not an easy read, but in the end it offers hope by emphasizing the power of love and human connection.  We all encounter grief at some time in our lives, and this poignant novel provides some insight into that experience. 

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

Review of PEACE BY CHOCOLATE by Jon Tattrie

 3.5 Stars

If you want to have your faith in humanity restored, read this book.

Isam Hadhad was a chocolatier in Syria for almost 25 years, but when his family home and chocolate factory in Damascus were destroyed, he took his wife Shahnaz and five of his children to Lebanon.  After years as refugees there, they were sponsored by a group in Antigonish, Nova Scotia.  Tareq, the eldest son, arrived first; he was soon followed by the rest of the family.  With the help of the community, the family was able to open a new chocolate factory, Peace by Chocolate, which became very successful, with a percentage of profits going to peace-building projects around the world.

The reader learns about a family losing everything, having to leave family members behind in an unsafe situation, and adjusting to life in a totally alien country with a different language and customs.  Nonetheless, the book emphasizes the positive.  It’s a story of resilience and perseverance, luck, and compassion, acceptance, and kindness.  The Hadhad family is determined and hardworking; Canadian immigration officials are helpful; and the community of Antigonish is welcoming and supportive.  Even a major grocery chain is shown in a positive light. 

I did question how amazingly welcoming and supportive the people of Antigonish were to this Syrian family.  So many worked selflessly to assist the Hadhads and everyone was so welcoming that they experienced no prejudice? 

The writing style I would describe as newspaper expository writing style with more simple than complex sentences.  Information is given clearly and concisely, but my personal preference is for more variety in sentence structure.  I do read much more fiction than non-fiction so perhaps that explains my dislike of such a straightforward style. 

There are several messages in the book, but there are three that will remain with me.  I was struck by the family’s gratitude for being in Canada, reminding me how fortunate I am to have been born in the country which, though not perfect, “can be the warmest place on this entire planet.”  The value of immigration is also emphasized; Canada has much to gain by welcoming newcomers into the country.  And then there’s the focus on the Golden Rule and doing unto others; the Hadhads are determined to repay the many kindnesses they received and so have become philanthropists. 

This is a book that will make you cry and laugh and see the good in people.  It reminded me of Come from Away.  It’s a feel-good read we need.  Even looking at the smiles of the Hadhads, especially Tareq’s, in the photos cannot but brighten your day. 

Review of TO THE DOGS by Louise Welsh (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This Scottish crime thriller begins promisingly but then becomes bogged down with subplots.

Jim Brennan’s life is a success story.  The son of a ruthless gangster, he has left behind his childhood in an impoverished and violent home.  He is now a respected professor of criminology and university vice-chancellor.  He and his accomplished wife Maggie have two children.  Things start to go awry when their son Eliot is arrested on drug charges.  To help Eliot, Jim becomes involved with shadowy figures in the criminal underworld he thought he had escaped.  Various demands threaten his family and his career.  As he faces many pressures in both his personal and professional life, will he compromise his principles?

Jim has many conflicts.  Should he protect his son by doing as Eliot’s drug bosses demand or should he let him lie in a bed of his own making in the hopes that some time in prison will reform his son?  Then he wonders what he should do when a Chinese student at the university’s satellite campus in Beijing goes missing.  There’s the issue of funding from Saudi Arabia.  Some of Jim’s colleagues and university students object to his accepting money from a regime with a terrible record of abusing human rights.  And the suicide of a student leaves him wondering about his responsibility.

Jim is a complex character.  There is no doubt that he loves his family.  He recognizes that he has not always made the best parenting choices, thereby contributing to Eliot’s irresponsible behaviour.  But he admits, more than once, to being willing to kill to protect his family.  His attempts to help students seem perfunctory, but he steps up for his family.  I could only admire his unconditional love for his son because there is virtually nothing likeable about Eliot; he seems to blame his parents for being absent, not making him their priority, for his bullying, thievery, speeding , drunkenness, and college course failures.  The one thing that bothered me is Jim’s lack of understanding of criminals.  Despite his upbringing and his degrees in criminology, he seems constantly surprised by their behaviour. 

The addition of subplots is problematic.  The result is a narrative that becomes disjointed and bogged down.  There is little follow-through on some of these so they seem to contribute little to the overall narrative.  Is the message that there is coercion and corruption to be found among academics as well as criminals?  The author implies that universities have blood on their hands if they align themselves with regimes with deplorable human rights’ records.  Is she suggesting that universities are criminal organizations not much different from those found in the criminal underworld?

The plot becomes increasingly convoluted and I found myself becoming annoyed with the constant piling on of Jim’s problems; it felt like they were added just to confuse.  The stereotypical characterization of gangsters does not impress.  And then the ending seems rushed and leaves unanswered questions. 

This book may appeal to others, but I found myself losing interest with the muddled combination of criminal activities and academic politics.

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

Review of A MAN DOWNSTAIRS by Nicole Lundrigan (New Release)

 4 Stars

Those who enjoy the psychological suspense genre should definitely pick up this book.  This is the first book I’ve read by this Canadian author, but it will not be my last. 

Molly Wynters and her teenaged son Alex move back to her hometown to help care for her father Gil who suffered a debilitating stroke and is unable to communicate.  Forty years earlier, when Molly was three, she witnessed the murder of her mother Edie.  Molly’s testimony resulted in a teenager being sent to prison.  After her return, Molly starts to receive messages accusing her of not telling the entire truth and threatening to hold her accountable.  Molly begins to question the accuracy of her memory.  Did she accuse the wrong person?  And who is her tormentor? 

The novel is narrated from three perspectives, one in the present and two in the past.  In the present, we have Molly’s third-person point of view; events following her return to Aymes are detailed, as are her reactions.  From Gil, in third-person narration, we learn about past events, focusing on his first meeting Edie and their marriage before and after Molly’s birth.  Also from the past, the reader is given the first-person perspective of a character identified only as Him.  He becomes romantically obsessed with the lunch lady at his school, Edie Wynters. 

One of the things that appealed to me is that there is a large cast of possible suspects both for murdering Edie and for harassing Molly.  I found myself developing various theories since more than one character behaves in a peculiar way.  I did correctly guess the identity of the killer, but certainly not exactly what happened.  I loved how at the end, all is explained so that everyone’s behaviour makes perfect sense. 

I also liked that the characters are realistic.  Villains are not so evil that they are unbelievable; instead, we have flawed characters who are clearly motivated to act as they do.  Certainly, I didn’t always agree with people’s choices, but I was able to understand the reasons for them.  Perhaps the most relevant comments are from a conversation between Molly and her son:  “’just because a person has a shitty life, it doesn’t mean they’re a liar’” and “’just because someone lives a decent life, doesn’t mean they’re always honest.’” 

Besides presenting some mysteries and exploring topics like marriage, memory, and secrets and lies, the book also examines parent-child relationships.  There are examples of both fairly healthy and rather dysfunctional relationships.  What is emphasized is what people will do because of their love for a child or parent. 

This is an enjoyable read that kept my interest throughout.  I would caution, however, that the ending will definitely leave readers feeling uneasy.

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

Review of THE DESCENT by Paul E. Hardisty (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

The Descent is both a prequel and a sequel to Hardisty’s 2023 novel, The Forcing, a book which I loved (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2023/02/review-of-forcing-by-paul-e-hardisty.html). 

There are two timelines.  In 2066, Kweku Ashworth, along with his wife Julie and son Leo, sets sail from southern Australia to find missing family and to learn exactly what happened on the sea voyage taken by his stepfather David (Teacher) and his mother Francoise 25 years earlier as they looked for a safe haven from the hellish conditions of a world ravaged by climate change.  This timeline shows what happens after the end of The Forcing, and through his discoveries during his travels, Kweku is able to fill in the events Teacher didn’t detail in his written record. 

The second timeline covers events from 40 years earlier.  Kweku hears a series of radio transmissions in which a woman, who calls herself Sparkplug, reads her journal entries from February 2024 to February 2039.  Because she is the personal secretary for the Boss, the ultra-wealthy and ultra-powerful head of a multinational conglomerate, she is privy to the machinations of those like her employer who build sanctuaries for themselves while also maximizing profits by spreading disinformation about climate change.  This timeline explains the events that led to the world described in The Forcing. 

My experience has been that prequels and sequels are often disappointing.  I usually find myself asking whether a follow-up book is really necessary.  Is it just a rehash?   I must admit that I found The Descent to be less powerful than The Forcing.  In the latter, we meet Derek Argent, a villainous businessman who focused on the growth of his personal wealthy, exploited others, and sowed doubt by spreading disinformation about climate change. The Descent details exactly how the Boss and his ilk ruthlessly lie, manipulate, and exploit in order to profit.  There’s nothing new here.  Nonetheless, it is interesting to see how easily the Boss is able to accomplish what he wants. 

The novel is terrifying in its realism.  Sparkplug’s diary begins in February 2024, the month of this book’s release, and refers to current events like the war in the Ukraine.  Reference is made to things that are currently happening:  “national debt in the major countries continued to balloon, with real wealth increasingly concentrated in the hands of a very small and increasingly wealthy powerful group of people . . . the completely inadequate, conscience-assuaging efforts to combat [climate change], a series of empty national pledges . . . a global rise in fascism, and the perils of not acting decisively to reduce global greenhouse-gas emissions.”  These actions, or lack thereof, are shown to lead directly to a dystopian near-future.    

There are parallel characters between fiction and reality.  For instance, Ellie Dahlberg, a Swedish climate activist, is obviously intended to be Greta Thunberg.  The “big blue rocket” that looks “like a huge boner” surely refers to Jeff Bezos’ Blue Origin.  And Bragg (oh what a perfect name) is a stand-in for Donald Trump who is described as having “a strangely over-pigmented complexion . . . and a mullet hairdo” who boasts “like he’s some kind of successful businessman.”  At times, I felt that the book was a warning about the dangers of re-electing Trump. 

There is suspense in the plot, but the ocean voyage doesn’t come across as dangerous as I expected.  Kweku and Julie seem to quickly and easily find the people they need to find to help them.  They seem to have a lot of luck.  And there’s a deus ex machina moment involving the U.S. navy.  The addition of Fema bothered me; I immediately recognized her as a redshirt because she just seems to drift in and out of the narrative:  sometimes she is mentioned and sometimes it’s as if she’s not travelling with them. 

As in The Forcing, there is, despite the dire state of the planet, some hope.  Near the end, there’s discussion of actions that could be taken now:  “legislation taxing carbon and diverting the proceeds into renewable energy projects . . . climate-adaptation projects . . . including building seawalls, re-establishing coastal wetlands, and re-greening cities.”  The warning is that “it was way, way more expensive, and way harder to fix something after it broke than to prevent it from breaking in the first place.” 

I recommend The Descent to those who have read The Forcing.  The latter works as a standalone, but I'm not sure the former would.  The Descent details the decisions and actions which create the world of The Forcing, but for me lacks the gut-punch impact of the first book. 

Review of THE CARETAKER by Ron Rash

 3.5 Stars

This novel, set in North Carolina in the early 1950s, examines love (familial, passionate, friendship) in its many forms.

Jacob Hampton marries 16-year-old Naomi Clarke against his parents’ wishes.  As a result, he is disinherited.  Shortly after their elopement, Jacob is conscripted and sent to Korea.  Before he leaves, Jacob asks his best friend, Blackburn Gant, to look after Naomi in his absence, especially because she is pregnant.  When his parents learn that their son has been injured, they devise a devious plan to keep Jacob and Naomi apart when he returns to the U.S. 

The title is perfect.  Blackburn is the caretaker of a cemetery.  Disfigured by polio, he is spurned or ridiculed by most members of the community so he is very much a loner.  Jacob is his only real friend.  Blackburn takes his job seriously; he is meticulous in his caretaking of the dead:  “Small acts of respect mattered.”  He is also a caretaker of the living:  “Caretaking was a duty to the living and the dead.”  As friendless as she is, Blackburn forms a bond with Naomi and helps her to prepare for the birth of her child.  After a nasty altercation with Mr. Hampton, Blackburn takes Naomi back to eastern Tennessee to live with her father.  When Jacob returns from Korea, Blackburn supports his friend.

Blackburn may be a social outcast, but he is an admirable man.  He is dependable, loyal, honest, and trustworthy – truly a man of honour.  A target of intolerance, his typical reaction is to just walk away.  He has wisdom as well.  In one conversation, Jacob comments that “’to love a person enough that you’d want them to love someone else instead of you . . . that’s hard.’”  Blackburn responds, “’Maybe it ain’t about having to make a choice which person you love . . . Maybe a heart’s big enough for both.’”  His actions prove that Blackburn does indeed possess a big heart.

There is considerable suspense.  With its forbidden love and star-crossed lovers vibe, the book will remind readers of Romeo and Juliet.  Will Jacob and Naomi’s story end in a similar tragedy?  Jacob’s parents, the town’s most prominent couple, possess an arrogance bordering on hubris.  They use their power and money to threaten others to get what they want.  Believing they know what is best for their son, they give little consideration to what would best make him happy.  Will justice prevail or will Jacob unknowingly be manipulated into the life his parents want for him?

The book is not without some flaws.  Though the motivations of the characters are clearly detailed, the scheme to keep Jacob and Naomi apart is a bit over-the-top and requires some suspension of disbelief.  Their hatred of Naomi seems excessive.  Jacob’s inaction on his return seems out of character.  And the ending feels abrupt and too pat.

Despite these weaknesses, I recommend the book.  It examines what love is and what it is not in an engaging way with a sympathetic main character.  I’m sufficiently impressed that I’ll be checking out the author’s previous novels.

Review of THE GUESTS by Agnes Ravatn

 4.5 Stars

This psychological drama reminds us ““Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”

Quite by chance, Karin encounters Iris Vilden, her childhood nemesis, to whom she hasn’t spoken in 25 years.  That meeting later leads to an offer for Karin and her husband Kai to spend a week in Iris’ luxurious holiday home in the Norwegian fjords.  While there, Karin meets a neighbour, Per Sinding, and, believing she has been treated disparagingly, she implies that the holiday home belongs to her and Kai.  Then Kai joins in the charade and the lies are compounded thereby creating further problems and a domino structure of complications.

In many ways, this book is a character study of a person who is resentful and envious.  I was reminded of the words in “Desiderata” which warn “If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.”  Karin is very bitter.  She admits that “The dissatisfaction that comes from comparing myself with others was more my cup of tea.”  Always she feels inadequate and worthless.  Meeting Iris who is a well-known actress just increases Karin’s insecurity.  She has much for which to be grateful:  a loving and supportive husband, two children who are doing well, a house in a nice neighbourhood, and a stable job as a legal consultant for the municipal government.  But this is not enough. 

Kai is Karin’s foil.  She acknowledges, “He wasn’t prone to envy, unlike me; he didn’t instinctively compare himself with others” and “I was insecure and neurotic, Kai was calm and confident” and he “compensated for all my weaknesses.  Offset my inferiority complex with his poised sense of calm.  It’s not that Kai lacked introspection, but it never sent him into a negative spiral.”  At the holiday home, he’s happy to embrace and enjoy the opportunity, whereas Karin can’t relax because her surroundings remind her of what she doesn’t and won’t ever have. 

Karin is aware of some of her flaws, but she just doesn’t seem to be able to do anything about them.  She knows she needs to “pull myself out of this spiral, to rise above it.”  She admits to being “prone to destructive patterns of thinking at the earliest opportunity, my negative assumptions ran away with me.”  She thinks of herself as damaged, superficial, and trivial.  She even worries about negatively influencing her children, that she’d “turn them into victims of never-ending self-scrutiny, I’d infect them with my solipsism.”

Though she sometimes seems self-aware, there are times when it’s obvious that she’s not totally honest with herself.  Since Karin is the sole narrator, we are given only her perspective and I certainly had doubts about her reliability.  For instance, she describes what happened when she and Iris were in school together.  Though Iris behaved appallingly if Karin’s version is accurate, it is Karin’s reaction that seems extreme and irrational.  Later, when she learned Iris lived two blocks away, Karin moved!  And she blames Iris for her own underachievement:  “I could have been someone else, I thought to myself, if it hadn’t been for Iris holding me back, or worse:   causing me to hold myself back.”  She has such an obsessive hatred for someone she hasn’t seen in 25 years?  As I read, I kept wishing Karin had taken to heart the words of the Greek philosopher Epictetus who said, “It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.”

Karin is also implacably judgmental of anyone who seems to have a better life than she does.  Of course she questions Iris’ motives in giving them a week’s retreat:  is she just showing off or trying to humiliate Karin or “To make sure my holiday is spent in the maximum amount of misery”?  She assumes there is an ulterior motive.  A statement by Per has Karin jumping to the conclusion that she has been “well and truly dismissed” instead of thinking that maybe  what he says is “a straightforward statement, not an attempt to strip me of my humanity.”  She asks Hilma Ekhult, Kai's wife, "purposely puerile questions," but then judges her for her "condescending and terse responses"?  Eventually Karin even starts to question Kai’s motives.  Ironically, she sees others as judgmental when she herself is.  Isn’t this called projection?

Though this is not a conventional suspense novel, there is a lot of tension.  The book is an uncomfortable read; I kept silently screaming at her to just tell the truth.  The false reality that she and Kai create is not sustainable so tension ramps up.  It’s only a matter of time before the dominoes will come crashing down. 

Besides being angry and frustrated with her, I also felt so sad for Karin.  She is a lawyer, apparently good at her job, and Kai is a master carpenter.  Because of their knowledge and skills, both are able to help Kai and Hilma.  Karin has so much, but she doesn’t appreciate her blessings and so can’t be happy.  Because of her deceptions, Karin deprives herself of an honest conversation with Hilma, her favourite author.  She and Hilma even have similar opinions about the property search engine developed by Iris’ husband, so the two could well have become friends. 

This book is brief, really more a novella, but it is dense and powerful.  I could go on and on because there is so much to analyze and admire.  The author has an insightful understanding of human psychology.  I was left in awe, and I think others will be too.

I’ve read Ravatn’s previous novels, The Bird Tribunal (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2018/02/review-of-bird-tribunal-by-agnes-ravatn.html) and The Seven Doors (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2021/07/review-of-seven-doors-by-agnes-ravatn.html), and I highly recommend these as well.