Review of FROM SWEETGRASS BRIDGE by Anthony Bidulka (New Release)

 4 Stars

I really liked Livingsky, the first in the Merry Bell trilogy, so looked forward to reading the next book, From Sweetgrass Bridge. I very much enjoyed my second visit to Livingsky, Saskatchewan.

Merry, a transgender woman who has returned to her hometown after gender-affirming surgery, has set up shop as a private investigator. Her business has had few clients however, so she is happy to take a new case: to find a missing man, Dustin Thomson. Dustin is a celebrated player for the Saskatchewan Roughriders, the team’s first quarterback born in the province and first indigenous quarterback and a local hero. Merry begins by interviewing people connected to Dustin, including his roommate, teammates, and family. Though she has no employees, she does get assistance from Gerald Drover, her landlord; from Roger Brown, a cross-dressing true crime podcaster who is married to Brenda, a designer with an office next to Merry’s; and Veronica Greyeyes, a police detective who once arrested Merry.

Merry is as likeable as ever. What’s not to like about someone who recognizes the importance of having money for chocolate and wine? What is particularly admirable is her determination; even when she seems to hit dead ends and mistrusts her abilities, she falters only briefly before persevering. Though it’s summer and they probably don’t have bootstraps, I like to think of her pulling herself up by the bootstraps of her Louboutin designer boots! My admiration for her even increased when she chooses not to say something to Brenda in a conversation she has with her at the end of the book. What makes Merry authentic is that she has personal struggles with a floundering career and with emotions like isolation and loneliness. She also admits that she has not completed what she calls the four stages of the transition process.

It was fun to re-connect with other characters, all of whom remain faithful to their depictions in the first book: “a morally ambiguous, mullet-headed, flamingo-legged landlord; a prickly, serious-as-a-heart-attack cop; a true-crime obsessed crossdresser, and a sickly-sweet interior designer.” Of course there are new characters introduced as well. Admittedly, I have a personal bias, but my favourite new character is Doreen – besides the name, I can identify with some of her decrepitude (though I also like to think of myself as reliable and trustworthy)!

I love the writing style which is eminently readable. I like the pop culture references, like a coach delivering a “Ted-Lasso-worthy speech,” and the gentle humour sprinkled throughout. For instance, in a discussion with Greyeyes about a poem written by Dustin, Merry muses, “Getting information from Greyeyes was like pulling molars with needle nose pliers. Would it help if she asked her questions in iambic pentameter?”

The book draws some attention to issues affecting our First Nations peoples such as boil water advisories, lack of education and opportunities for youth, many cases of missing people, and high suicide rates. I understand the author’s wanting to explain these problems, but it’s awkward that Merry seems to know little or nothing about these problems, though she immediately understands the meaning of the word kôhkum?

My interest was maintained throughout such that I didn’t want to put down the book. Though I guessed the guilty early on, I certainly didn’t know the details. Though the resolution lacks some credibility, I did find that considerable effort was made to make it as convincing and believable as possible.

This is a thoroughly enjoyable read. Though From Sweetgrass Bridge can be read as a standalone, I suggest readers begin with Livingsky first if they have not already done so. I certainly look forward to seeing more of Merry and company – especially Doreen of course – in the next installment.

Review of THE SAFEKEEP by Yael van der Wouden (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

Because of my husband’s Dutch heritage, I am attracted to books set in the Netherlands. This one certainly taught me something about post-war Netherlands which I did not know.

The novel is set in 1961. Isabel den Brave lives alone in what has been the family home since 1944. Hers is a lonely existence centred on the house. She is the house’s guardian; her days are devoted to maintaining its rooms, keeping its treasures clean, and tending its garden: “She belonged to the house in the sense that she had nothing else, no other life than the house.” Her tranquil, ordered life is disrupted when her elder brother Louis drops off his girlfriend Eva to stay for a month. Isabel is irate and treats Eva with cold contempt, especially when she comes to suspect that Eva is stealing items from the house. The tension impels Eva to confront her hostess and their relationship quickly changes to an obsessive infatuation. The newfound intimacy leads to a discovery which forces Isabel to question what she knows about her family and her home.

Isabel and Eva are foil characters. Isabel is tidy, organized and routine-driven. She thinks of friendship as distrustful and is judgmental, with definite prejudices against almost everyone outside her family. Her behaviour suggests an obsessive personality and her overreactions suggest she is emotionally repressed. Eva is the exact opposite. She is lazy and unkempt. She doesn’t respect boundaries. She accepts others and enjoys a good time, laughing easily and often.

Isabel very much experiences a journey of self-discovery. When she finally senses an attraction to Eva, she is very troubled. Isabel’s younger brother Hendrik is gay and has been living with a partner for years, but their mother never accepted her son’s sexuality. Though their mother is dead, Isabel still believes homosexuality is morally wrong. Isabel progresses from repressing and denying her feelings to eventually acknowledging and acting on them. She also learns the truth about the house and possessions to which she is so desperately attached.

The change in Isabel and Eva’s relationship does not come as a surprise. The paragraph describing Isabel’s eating of the pear given to her by Eva is so sensual that it clearly foreshadows. I noted that even the author refers to this scene in her Acknowledgments: “Thank you for St. Augustine and the pears. People can’t stop talking about the pears, they’re a great hit.” Anyone wondering about the book’s cover will understand once s/he has read this passage.

What did bother me is the sudden transformation in the nature of their relationship. The change from intense dislike to intense infatuation seems very abrupt. And then the second part of the novel has so many sex scenes that they become repetitive. The chemistry between the women seems both rushed and overdone, though I assume that Isabel’s obsessive personality is supposed to account for her obsessiveness in their relationship.

The other revelation about Isabel’s family and family home is also not a surprise. Because Isabel was a child in 1944, there is a vagueness about the family’s move into the home, but there are also clues in what she does remember. I’ve read enough articles about a situation that still appears in media stories so I predicted the truth early on, though I obviously didn’t know the details. The book has certainly inspired me to do some further research into post-war events in the Netherlands; I have a brother- and sister-in-law who live in Eindhoven which is mentioned in the book.

Parts I and III held my interest the most, though this will not be the case for all readers. I recommend it to readers interested in views about women’s sexuality and homosexuality in the early 1960s and on post-war life in the Netherlands. It is a well-written novel worth reading.

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

Review of TOXIC by Helga Flatland (New Release)

 4 Stars

I loved Flatland’s novel One Last Time (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2021/10/review-of-one-last-time-by-helga.html) so was excited to read her most recent offering. I was not disappointed.

Mathilde is forced to leave her teaching position in Oslo after her relationship with an 18-year-old student is discovered. To escape her tarnished reputation and Covid restrictions, she decides to leave the city and rent a cottage in the countryside. The cottage is on a dairy farm run by two brothers, Johs and Andres, whose family has owned the farm for several generations. Mathilde’s arrival disturbs the peaceful life on the farm.

There are two first-person narrators: Mathilde and Johs. Their perspectives reveal their inner lives and also emphasize their differences. Mathilde is very much the modern woman whereas Johs’ life, despite the farm’s modernizations, is very much rooted in the traditions of the past.

Mathilde was raised by her aunt after the deaths of her parents. She describes herself as “rootless” with no personal interest in her ancestry. Her behaviour certainly challenges traditional ideas about the behaviour expected of women. To his mother Signe, Johs describes Mathilde as a woman who “’talks too much, laughs too loud, sleeps with whoever she wants, and doesn’t give a shit about facades.’”

Johs lives by tradition. Mathilde thinks of him as “’a walking family tree . . . with a full overview of [his] heritage.’” Things are done as they were done by his grandfather Johannes. The brothers even manage the farm like Johannes and his brother did. Johs believes “traditions are important” and “traditions cannot be broken.” Like his grandfather, Johs plays the fiddle and insists on telling the folktale connected to the music before he plays. He even has a tendency to judge a person based on “what he comes from”!

What is outstanding is the characterization.  All characters emerge as fully developed, realistic people for whom the reader will feel sympathy but with whom he/she will also feel angry and frustrated. Mathilde, for example, lost her parents and as a result seems to suffer from abandonment issues. This situation might arouse sympathy, but it is difficult to agree with some of her choices and her refusal to take any responsibility for her choices. Johs seems trapped in a dysfunctional family between “a cold and manipulative mother” and a selfish brother. There were times I wanted to scream at him to develop a backbone.

One of the themes is the connections between the past and the present. Mathilde seems to have inherited some traits from her mother who “’had an enormous need for validation . . . almost . . . insatiable . . . [and] became almost psychotic when these men, who she didn’t even want in the first place, rejected her.’” Mathilde’s question about “’Who was driving the car?’” is so chilling! Mathilde’s inability to learn from past mistakes does not bode well: “I don’t know how to learn to stop being attracted to someone who’ll eventually reject me.” Johs lives in shadow of his mother whom he thinks is “damaged . . . I think Johannes damaged her.” But perhaps the shadow of Johannes is even bigger. Flashbacks clearly show that Johs and Andres could not escape their grandfather’s influence. A totally odious man who may even have attempted a murder, he loved to tell folktales about women who rebel against their patriarchal society and suffer tragic consequences as a result. Andres summarizes these stories as “’About unspeakably immoral, rebellious women who had to be punished. . . . Stories that say these women vanished mysteriously or dramatically, while in reality they were probably murdered or they killed themselves.’”

Tension builds slowly, but I soon realized that things would not end well because of the dark sides of the characters involved. There’s Mathilde who cannot tolerate rejection: “the feeling of unadulterated despair, the bottomless abyss opening beneath me when I think that someone is about to leave me. All my instincts demand that I fight back, I lose my sense of rationality and impulse control.” And then there’s a man whose “anxiety can make him furious – when his nerves are aglow like that, they can flare up and spark a rage so explosive.”

The book’s title is perfect since Toxic features a number of toxic characters and toxic relationships, both in the past and the present. And the ending . . . wow! Some readers will find its open-endedness unsatisfying, but I think it’s perfect. What it implies of course is very unsettling. I can well imagine the newest folktale!

This is a book I will put on my to re-read pile. There are layers and nuances I’m sure I missed.  In the meantime, I will be highly recommending it.

Review of BURY YOUR DEAD by Louise Penny

 3 Stars

This is the sixth book in the Armand Gamache series.

Gamache is in Quebec City when Augustin Renaud, an historian/amateur archaeologist obsessed with finding the remains of Samuel Champlain, is found murdered in the basement of the Literary and Historical Society. Though he is on leave, Gamache is asked to assist the investigation.

Jean-Guy Beauvoir, meanwhile, also on leave, goes to Three Pines to quietly re-investigate the murder of the hermit as outlined in the previous book, The Brutal Telling. Olivier, the owner of the bistro in Three Pines, was convicted but Gamache is having second thoughts and wants to determine if errors were made.

Then there’s a third case told in flashbacks. It is this case which explains why Gamache and Beauvoir are both on leave. It’s a hostage situation with a possible terrorism connection.

As with the other books in the series, I have issues with this one. The motive for Renaud’s murder is definitely weak and far-fetched. The great reveal of the hermit’s identity is difficult to accept given the identity of the murderer. And given the identity of the victim, why would “Woo” strike such fear in him? There’s a definite lack of logic.

Again, the lack of proper procedure stands out. Gamache agrees to help the investigation in Quebec City, but then he doesn’t meet or share his findings with the lead investigator? Beauvoir relies on the help of Three Pines residents despite their potentially being involved in the murder?

The deification of Gamache continues. He single-handedly solves the Renaud murder case! Everything he does, he does better than anyone else. Even a photo of him is identified as an epitome of grief. We are even supposed to admire him because he claims responsibility for events over which he has no control. A martyr complex is supposed to be admirable? Gamache admits to making a mistake in arresting Olivier and asks for his forgiveness, but there is no mention made of Olivier’s many secrets, lies, and stupid decisions.

What was most interesting for me was the information about the founder of Quebec. I didn’t know that Champlain’s remains have never been discovered. I also enjoyed the descriptions of Quebec City because I have visited often and have special memories of the city. References to places like the Épicerie J. A. Moisan were wonderful because my husband and I were actually married in the L’Auberge J. A. Moisan above the grocery store.

I think Louise Penny’s novels appeal to readers who enjoy revisiting the familiar. Most people read them as they are published, so a year passes between books. My listening to them consecutively, without break, may be the problem. Weaknesses just seem to multiply. Friends keep saying the books get better, but I haven’t yet seen this improvement.

Review of RULES OF CIVILITY by Amor Towles

 4 Stars

This book has been on my to-read pile for some time. I enjoyed The Lincoln Highway (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2021/12/review-of-lincoln-highway-by-amor-towles.html) and loved A Gentleman in Moscow (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2020/05/review-of-gentleman-in-moscow-by-amor.html) so decided I should finally read Towles’ debut novel.

The book begins in 1966 though most of it is a flashback to 1938. Middle-aged Katey Kontent attends a photographic exposition which transports her back to New Years Eve 1937 when she was 25 and met the man who appears in two of the photographs on exhibit. The book then describes a year (1938) in her life, a year which determines the direction of her life.

Katey and her free-spirited roommate Eve go to a jazz bar where they meet Tinker Grey, a handsome wealthy banker. This encounter propels her into the upper echelons of New York society where she is introduced to a world of Gatsbyesque parties, luxury residences, swanky clubs, and posh restaurants. In many ways, the book is a coming-of-age story as Katey makes new friends, experiences love and loss, advances her career, and learns much about the world.

Katey is a likable character, though sometimes she struck me as somewhat unbelievable. The daughter of a Russian immigrant, she is intelligent and ambitious and works hard. These traits get her noticed. Her insistence on independence is also noteworthy. She is well-read, though I was sometimes amazed at the extent of her knowledge of art and contemporary music. Very much middle-class, she knows the mannerisms of high society and easily manages to become accepted by the ultra-wealthy and powerful? All the men fall in love with her and all the women become her friends?

But I guess that’s one of the novel’s messages: the randomness of chance which sometimes determines the course of someone’s life. Looking back, Katey acknowledges that she was gifted choices: “To have even one year when you’re presented with choices that can alter your circumstances, your character, your course – that’s by the grace of God alone.”

Another theme is the importance of finding a purpose and maintaining integrity: “maintain some sense of direction, some sort of unerring course over seas tempest-tost.” The title of the book comes from George Washington’s rules of civility, the last of which is “Labour to keep alive in your Breast that Little Spark of Celestial fire Called Conscience.” Some people make various degrees of moral compromise, but Katy refuses monetary opportunities that would make her life easier but she would see as dishonourable. Eve draws her line in the sand: “’I’m willing to be under anything . . . as long as it isn’t somebody’s thumb.’” Sometimes it looks as if Eve is not living by that principle, but that impression proves to be incorrect. At the end, Tinker looks at the windows lit across New York but sees some specific windows “that seemed to burn a little brighter and more constant – the windows lit by those few who acted with poise and purpose.”

The other theme that stands out for me is that appearances can be deceiving. People can hide their true inner selves. People are like butterflies: “there are tens of thousands of butterflies: men and women . . . with two dramatically different colorings – one which serves to attract and the other which serves to camouflage – and which can be switched at the instant with a flit of the wings.” Based on what she sees, Katey makes assumptions about Tinker’s life that prove to be wrong. The inner lives of some characters are at odds with their initial appearance. For instance, Wallace Walcott is someone Katey almost dismisses until she gets to know him. Some people, especially the wealthy, tell lies, have ulterior motives, or use their money and influence to manipulate others’ lives. It’s interesting that the coat of arms of the exclusive Beresford apartment building where Tinker lives has a Latin motto “Fronta Nulla Fides“ or “place no trust in appearances.”

There is much I enjoyed: the snappy dialogue, the humour in the witty repartee, the beautifully rich prose, and the many literary allusions to other writers and books. I didn’t like this book as much as A Gentleman in Moscow, but It is nonetheless a great read.

Review of THE RED GROVE by Tessa Fontaine (New Release)

 3 Stars

Sixteen-year-old Luce Shelley lives with her mother Gloria, her brother Roo, and her invalid aunt Gem in Red Grove, a secluded community comprised mostly of women in the ancient redwood forest of northern California.  This community provides a safe haven for women; they are told that they will always be safe from the dangers of society, especially the violence of men.  Interwoven with Luce’s story, set in 1997, is the community’s origin story dating back to 1853.   

One day Gloria goes missing.  Luce knows that her mother wouldn’t just abandon them, especially not her twin sister who lives in a state of “unresponsive wakefulness” and relies on Gloria for her care.  As Luce looks for her mother, she uncovers secrets about Red Grove.  She discovers that her home may not really be as safe as she’s been taught. 

One of the book’s central ideas is inter-connectedness.  The trees are connected by a mycorrhizal network:  “the roots of the redwood trees reaching as wide as the trees were tall, [were] passing sugars and water back and forth, feeding the weak, holding the tallest of them upright, flashing memories to one another along the mycorrhizal network.”  But Luce later suggests that the women are also “embedded in the network of this forest.”  She is asked, “’Did you know it isn’t just all the plant roots that are connected in the dirt.  That it’s all the animals and bugs and people in the Red Grove too?  Even the dead ones.’”  The later parts of the novel suggest communication is possible between humans and nature and that even the dead can use this network to communicate.   

Of course, the message is also that the community of Red Grove gains its strength from the connections among its members. Though they are told that their community has a magical protective shield, “the truth of their power, which was within them, their actions and tenderness [was] so much stronger than a myth.”  

There’s a mystery of course:  what happened to Gloria?  But the book is also very much a coming-of-age story.  Luce is very much devoted to Red Grove, its mission, rituals, and myths.  In fact, she is being groomed to be the next leader, though Gloria has reservations.  She has issues with Una, the current leader, believing that “any isolated community, no matter how noble its intentions, restricted you.  It made the world too small.”  For instance, she worries that Luce and Roo think of themselves as impervious to harm in Red Grove.  When Luce uncovers secrets long hidden about events at Red Grove, she has to decide whether to keep those secrets or reveal them.  She loses her innocence as she learns about the place that has been her home for half her life. And her understanding of her relationship with her mother matures. 

Pacing is a problem. The book begins very slowly. Even after Gloria vanishes, nothing much happens. Only two-thirds of the way through the book is there any real tension. The chapters of the origin story, though interesting, do little to add to the suspense. Then the closing chapters are vague and will leave many readers feeling unsatisfied.  

What bothered me as well is the magic realism/ supernatural elements. Some of the communication that occurs I did not find convincing. The so-called mother-tree hypothesis is very appealing, but the author implies a whole new purpose of these networks and I found it difficult to suspend my disbelief. Then we are supposed to believe that “’There is no such thing as coincidence. . . . Coincidence is communication. It always means something’”? The scenes involving the mummy are just too much! Each time the mummy was mentioned, my interest lessened. 

The novel has some interesting ideas. It inspires thinking about how women are viewed when they take control of their own lives and whether isolated communities such as Red Grove can be successful or are even a good idea. However, the novel’s pacing and its more outlandish elements definitely affected my enjoyment.  

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

Review of THE BLUE MAIDEN by Anna Noyes (New Release)

 2.5 Stars

This fragmentary novel is not my cup of tea.

The book, set on Sweden’s Berggrund Island, focuses on two sisters, Ulrika and Beata, who live with their widowed father, Pastor Silas.  The girls are fascinated with the island’s lore and dark history which includes the killing of 27 of the 32 women living on the island; in 1675, 150 years earlier, these women were accused of witchcraft and consorting with Satan on the neighbouring mist-shrouded island known as Blue Maiden.  The sisters also want to learn about their mother, but Silas refuses to speak of her.  Ulrika, the eldest, does the majority of the work around the house which includes looking after her sister who starts experiencing unsettling visions when she enters adolescence.  The return of August Holmberg to Berggrund changes the lives of the sisters and leads to the revelation of dark family secrets. 

Ulrika and Beata are social outcasts.  On their father’s side they are descended from a woman who was identified as a witch but allowed to live because she was pregnant.  It seems as if that stigma has followed them over the generations.  Their mother was an outsider, not from the island, so “they share an aura of otherness” for this reason as well.  They both yearn for love and attention which is not given to them by their emotionally remote father who is neglectful and ineffectual as a parent.

It is the theme of sisterhood that stands out for me.  Ulrika and Beata give each other the love otherwise missing from their lives, but there are jealousies and tensions as one would expect between siblings. Ulrika sometimes wants to be alone, taking long walks and leaving Bea behind.  Bea, once punished along with her sister, feels she has been treated unjustly and lashes out by opening jars and dumping out their contents leaving Ulrika to cry, “’That pantry gets us through winter . . . Do you ever think how much work you make for me?’”  Bea responds with, “’What else would you do?’”  When Ulrika gets attention, Bea thinks should be hers, Bea says, “’Can’t I have one scrap? . . . Just one, to myself?’”  She is convinced “Only when Ulrika dies will Bea live individuated and capable.”  But she also realizes “Ulrika is her family, the primacy of that earliest bond forever fated to win out.”

The novel’s writing style is a challenge.  The narrative jumps from one scene to another seemingly without connection so there is a disjointed feel to the book.  Some scenes are noteworthy for their vagueness so it’s difficult to determine what is happening.   Clarity is not prioritized because much is left unsaid, but I would have liked some exposition linking events or explaining their significance.  The sense of confusion is not cleared with the ending which is ambiguous and unsatisfying; the book almost feels abandoned rather than concluded. 

At the end I found myself wondering what it all means.  What message was I supposed to take away?  What is the significance of so many characters, both male and female, having visions?  Are visions what come “from paying too close attention to the world”?  Beata lives in fear of a witch coming to get her but the ending seems to suggest she discovers that she is one, so is the message that all women are witches or at least perceived to be to some extent?  Are we to understand that women like Beata are suffering from generational trauma because of what happened to the women on the island earlier?  The book is described as “A Nordic Gothic laced with the horrors of life in a patriarchy both hostile to and reliant on its women” and a Kirkus Review describes the book as being “a twisting narrative of the horrors of patriarchal subordination.”  I’m not convinced but admit to being at a loss to explain the purpose of the book. 

This book may appeal to others – and there is some appeal in its poetic diction – but it doesn’t work for me. 

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

Review of LONG ISLAND by Colm Tóibín (New Release)

 4.5 Stars

This sequel to Tóibín’s 2009 novel Brooklyn is set twenty years later, in the 1970s. 

Eilis Fiorello (nee Lacey) is now in her forties.  She and her husband Tony and their children Rosella and Larry live on Long Island next to two of Tony’s brothers and his parents.  Though sometimes feeling stifled by all her in-laws, she seems content until she learns something that shatters her life and threatens her marriage.  Confused and unsettled, she decides to go to Ireland to visit her mother as her 80^th birthday approaches.  Once in her small hometown she inevitably encounters Jim Farrell, the man with whom she’d had a romantic relationship two decades earlier even though she was already secretly married to Tony at the time.  Jim, a successful pub owner, has never married but has been meeting secretly with the widowed Nancy Sheridan, Eilis’s best friend at one time; the two plan to announce their engagement at the end of the summer.   The lives of Eilis, Jim, and Nancy become entwined and complications arise.

This book will certainly appeal to lovers of Tóibín’s novels.  I enjoyed meeting once again the characters of Brooklyn, and even Nora Webster makes a cameo appearance.  Eilis’s mother is just as I remember her – feisty and cantankerous and unpredictable, a woman who reminds me of my own mother.

When I read Brooklyn, Eilis reminded me of the protagonist in the short story “Eveline” in James Joyce’s The Dubliners:  a passive young woman living in a stifling environment who chooses duty above her personal desires.  Her reaction to receiving stunning information about Tony suggests she is now more assertive, but her response is still rather muted.  Her indecisiveness is certainly a factor in how events unfold both in the U.S. and Ireland.  For me, in many ways, she remains an enigmatic character, but then I don’t think she fully understands herself either.  She insists that she is innocent, didn’t cause and does not want to be blamed in any way for the situation at home, but her behaviour shows that she is either blind to her failings or being disingenuous.

I found my feelings about characters changed.  Jim, for instance, I liked at first and found him a sympathetic character.  He treats Nancy well and respects her wishes about the engagement announcement.  But as the novel progresses, I found him fickle and weak.  He describes himself like some of his customers “fully aware that they should go home or that they should not even consider having another drink.  He watched them doing what made no sense, unwilling to listen to argument or reason. . . . Jim realized that he himself was like one of his worst customers, someone who knew what he should not do but was driven to do it regardless, no matter how much trouble it would cause.”  By omission, he lies to both Eilis and Nancy and even plans to continue to be less than totally honest:  “there was no reason why Eilis should ever know that he had had any relationship at all with Nancy.  Even in the future, he thought, it was something he would never share with her.” 

Of course that is the great strength of this novel; its characters are nuanced and authentic, reflecting the complexities of human nature.  Everyone has disappointments and regrets, and hopes and dreams.  Everyone has been betrayed and has betrayed others so all suffer consequences.  All are torn between commitments/responsibilities and longings/desires. 

As in Brooklyn, the inability or unwillingness to express one’s feelings is a major theme.  For instance, when leaving for Ireland, Eilis knows what she wants to say to Tony but she avoids using the word divorce because “it would change things between them.”  Characters often wonder what someone else is thinking because so much is left unsaid.  There’s an interesting exchange between two characters:  the question “’Can I ask if you love me?’” is answered with “’That’s why I am here.’”  Then the response to the follow-up question of “’Can you say it?” is “’Yes, I can.’”  But “I love you” is never spoken. 

The book has as much tension as any thriller.  As things become complicated, readers wonder what will happen but also find themselves asking what they would do and what they want to happen.  Past events have shown that there are no real secrets in a small town, so it is inevitable that eventually the truth will be revealed to all.  It becomes clear that a happy ending is impossible.  Too many dreams are torn apart for there to be a happy ever after. 

In fact the ending will leave some readers dissatisfied.  Readers will certainly be able to fill in what happens but there is definitely a degree of uncertainty.  A third book would not be a surprise, especially since Brooklyn and Long Island are being referred to as the Eilis Lacey series. 

Written in Tóibín’s typical quiet, restrained prose, this novel, like his others, depicts complex emotions and complicated interactions.  I highly recommend it and will not be surprised to see it on literary awards lists. 

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

Review of THE HAZELBOURNE LADIES MOTORCYCLE AND FLYING CLUB by Helen Simonson (New Release)

 4 Stars

Simonson’s last novel The Summer before the War is set in 1914 before the beginning of World War I; this novel is set in the summer of 1919 just after the end of that war. 

 Constance Haverhill is sent as a lady’s companion to Mrs. Eleanor Fog, an old family friend who is convalescing at a hotel in Hazelbourne-on-Sea.  After the summer, Constance will have to find a position to support herself but in the meantime she finds herself mixing with the elites who live in the hotel.  In particular, she meets Poppy Wirrall, an unconventional young woman, the leader of a group of independent-minded motorcycle-riding women, and her brother Harris, a fighter pilot trying to adjust to life as an amputee. 

The book focuses on the challenges of post-war life, especially those faced by women.  During the war, women took jobs left vacant by men who were off fighting; these jobs allowed women to show their competence and gave them both responsibility and freedom.  With the end of the war, however, women are expected to give up these jobs to returning soldiers.  Constance, for instance, managed a large estate but is told she is now no longer needed; Poppy expresses her frustration:  “’I got used to feeling life was urgent and I was doing something important.  Now we are all expected to go home to the kitchen or drawing room.’”  Mention is made of the Restoration of Pre-War Practices Act which legislated certain jobs could be held only by men.  Those women left widowed are expected to survive on an insufficient pension whereas those who are unmarried find a limited supply of potential husbands after the deaths of so many young men. 

Women also experience misogyny.  Constance admits that when showing her wartime employer “’how well his estate was doing . . .  I forgot men don’t like women to be too competent.  I should have been more circumspect.’”  Men and women are certainly judged differently.  One man’s comments are jokingly dismissed as overbearing but a woman points out that “’when I am overbearing, which I often like to be, they call me an absolute shrew.’”  It’s best that women “’simper and faint and hide our abilities in all things worldly.’”  Constance is careful “never to share her opinion, especially with a man” because she knows that if a woman says anything of import, “It was as if when offering a dog a biscuit, the dog had thanked them and begun to quote from the Encyclopaedia Britannica.” 

Of course men must also adapt to changes.  Those who survived the battlefield and the influenza pandemic have to integrate back into society.  Injured men like Harris find themselves being treated as incapable of resuming work; Harris, for example, wants to continue to fly planes but is discouraged from doing so:  “’They look at me as if my brain has gone missing along with the leg.  Or rather they refuse to look at me at all.’”  He also struggles with survivor’s guilt.  Men who suffered serious injury are hidden away from society.  In a parade celebrating victory and peace, attempts are made not to include the seriously wounded as if to prove one woman’s opinion that “’it seems as if the dead are more convenient than the wounded.’”

Classism is addressed.  Men of lower classes who might have proven during wartime that “competence, decency, and grit were not the sole purview, or even the natural gifts, of the well-born” have to return to lives in which they are no longer seen as equals.  And as a woman who has to earn a living to survive, Constance does not have the freedom of the wealthy.  For instance, Poppy, because of her wealth and social class, is able to engage in activities not available to Constance:  “Respectability was the currency in which Constance knew she must trade for the foreseeable future.  She  . . . did not have Poppy’s wealth and position from which to defend herself against notoriety.”   

The book also touches on xenophobia and racism.  At the hotel there’s a waiter named Klaus Zeiger, a German-born naturalized citizen.  At the beginning of the war, he was kept in an internment camp, and after the war, because of lingering anti-German sentiment, he tries to keep a low profile.  “’British India and the independent princely states together contributed over a million men to this war,’” but an Indian delegation is prevented from marching in the Peace Parade in London.  One Indian pilot mentions that when he applied to the Flying Corps, he was told to become an air mechanic instead:  “Some imputed weakness of my race, or perhaps a disinclination to train and empower a colonial.’”  There is also racism against blacks; a visiting American expresses particularly odious views:  “’Relationships across the races being, we believe, against the laws of the state and nature.’” 

This book will be described as a gentle, quiet read but its charm is not a disguise for fluff.  Though its plot, especially the romance, is predictable, the book captures the mood of the world after the First World War.  It is the novel’s social commentary that I will remember.   It’s an entertaining book that provides food for thought.