Schatje's Favourite Books of 2025

 

Schatje’s Favourite Books of 2025

Of the 106 books I read and reviewed this year, here are among my favourite ones published in 2025. I divided my choices into two very broad categories: 25 novels classified as literary fiction, some with historical elements, and a dozen titles classified as crime drama, psychological suspense, mystery, thriller or gothic fiction. It was a great year of reading!

Favourite Literary (and/or Historical) Fiction

We Do Not Part by Han Kang https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/01/review-of-we-do-not-part-by-han-kang.html

Three Days in June by Anne Tyler https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/02/review-of-three-days-in-june-by-anne.html

End of August by Paige Dinneny https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/02/review-of-end-of-august-by-paige.html

Nesting by Roisín O’Donnell https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/02/review-of-nesting-by-roisin-odonnell.html

A House for Miss Pauline by Diana McCaulay https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/02/review-of-house-for-miss-pauline-by.html

The Immortal Woman by Su Chang https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/03/review-of-immortal-woman-by-su-chang.html

The Paris Express by Emma Donoghue https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/03/review-of-paris-express-by-emma.html

The Boy from the Sea by Garrett Carr https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/04/review-of-boy-from-sea-by-garrett-carr.html

The Lotus Shoes by Jane Yang https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/05/review-of-lotus-shoes-by-jane-yang.html

Fox by Joyce Carol Oates https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/06/review-of-fox-by-joyce-carol-oates-new.html

The Homemade God by Rachel Joyce https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/06/review-of-homemade-god-by-rachel-joyce.html

The Heart of Winter by Jonathan Evison https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/07/review-of-heart-of-winter-by-jonathan.html

The Lies They Told by Ellen Marie Wiseman https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/07/review-of-lies-they-told-by-ellen-marie.html

Solitaria by Eliana Alves Cruz https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/08/review-of-solitaria-by-eliana-alves.html

Bad Juliet by Giles Blunt https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/09/review-of-bad-juliet-by-giles-blunt-new.html

Ripeness by Sarah Moss https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/09/review-of-ripeness-by-sarah-moss-new.html

The Book of Guilt by Catherine Chidgey https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/09/review-of-book-of-guilt-by-catherine.html

What We Can Know by Ian McEwan https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/10/review-of-what-we-can-know-by-ian.html

Evensong by Stewart O’Nan https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/11/review-of-evensong-by-steward-onan-new.html

Benbecula by Graeme Macrae Burnet https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/11/review-of-benbecula-by-graeme-macrae.html

Listen by Sacha Bronwasser https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/11/review-of-listen-by-sacha-bronwasser.html

Songs of Love on a December Night by David Adams Richards https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/11/review-of-songs-of-love-on-december.html

Needle Lake by Justine Champine https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/12/review-of-needle-lake-by-justine.html

Seascraper by Benjamin Wood https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/12/review-of-seascraper-by-benjamin-wood.html

Flashlight by Susan Choi https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/12/review-of-flashlight-by-susan-choi.html

Favourite Crime/Psychological Suspense/Mystery/Thriller/Gothic Fiction

The Quiet Librarian by Allen Eskens https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/02/review-of-quiet-librarian-by-allan.html

Son by Johana Gustawsson and Thomas Enger https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/03/review-of-son-by-johana-gustawsson-and.html

The Cure by Eve Smith https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/04/review-of-cure-by-eve-smith-new-release.html

Dangerous by Essie Fox https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/04/review-of-dangerous-by-essie-fox-new.html

Home Fires Burn by Anthony Bidulka https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/06/review-of-home-fires-burn-by-anthony.html

Home Before Dark by Eva Björg Ægisdóttir https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/07/review-of-home-before-dark-by-eva-bjorg.html

She Didn’t See It Coming by Shari Lapena https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/08/review-of-she-didnt-see-it-coming-by.html

High Season by Katie Bishop https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/08/review-of-high-season-by-katie-bishop.html

Gone in the Night by Joanna Schaffhausen https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/08/review-of-gone-in-night-by-joanna.html

Venetian Vespers by John Banville https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/11/review-of-venetian-vespers-by-john.html

Small Fires by Ronnie Turner https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/02/review-of-small-fires-by-ronnie-turner.html

Jenny Cooper Has a Secret by Joy Fielding https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2025/08/review-of-jenny-cooper-has-secret-by.html

Review of THE NAMES by Florence Knapp

 3.5 Stars

I listened to this book on my morning walks, but I wish I had read a physical copy.

Cora, though married to a well-respected physician, is trapped in an abusive marriage. As the novel begins, she has just had a second child, a son; their daughter Maia is nine years old. Gordon, Cora’s husband, wants their son to be given his name as is the tradition in his family. Cora dislikes the name and fears it will shape her son into another domineering man like his father and paternal grandfather. She favours Julian, a name meaning sky father, which she hopes will be an acceptable compromise because it honours Gordon’s paternity. Maia suggests Bear because it implies not only softness and kindness but also strength and bravery. At the registrar’s office, Cora picks one of these names, at which point the narrative divides into three, each showing how the lives of the son and his family develop differently as a consequence of the name choice.

The novel, set in England, begins in October of 1987 and covers a span of 35 years. Each section is set 7 years apart and each is divided into 3 sections, one for each name choice.

I found, however, that the book is not really about the impact of names but on the consequences of one’s choices. It is Cora’s decision and Gordon’s reactions to that decision which impact the son’s life and that of Cora and Maia as well. If Cora surrenders to her fear and acquiesces to her husband’s wishes and names their son Gordon, will he end up bullied as his father was bullied by his own and so perpetuate the pattern of behaviour? If she finds the courage to choose the name she most prefers, will it empower her and her son? If Cora chooses to be reckless and opts for a totally unconventional name, will that just escalate Gordon’s violence?

It is the effects of domestic violence that are explored. Regardless of the name Cora chooses for her son, the abusive environment in which he and Maia live shapes their lives. If the abuse continues, that will inevitably influence the children. If Cora were able to leave the relationship and take the children with her, the father’s absence would have an effect. If Gordon gained sole custody of the children, as Cora fears, the mother’s absence would have an effect. The message is that an abusive environment inevitably shapes children and even their removal from it is impactful.

As I mentioned, I listened to an audio version and that choice may explain my difficulty in keeping track of the three storylines. When the narrative returned to a particular storyline, I was hard pressed to remember what had previously happened. Furthermore, the 7-year gaps between chapters means that little of what happened in the intervening time period is explained. And that structure does not allow for development of minor characters. Orla and Lily, for example, remain vague.

Potential readers need to be warned that the marketing of the novel (as a book that asks whether a name can change the course of a life) is misleading. The book is more about the implications of one’s decisions and about domestic abuse and its long-term effects on family members. And some of the violence is described in horrific detail.

Review of THE HALLMARKED MAN by Robert Galbraith

 3 Stars

This is the eighth Cormoran Strike novel; it’s not the longest of the series but has over 900 pages.

A mutilated and dismembered corpse is found in the vault of a silver shop that specializes in selling Masonic artifacts. Police identify the victim, but Decima Mullins, a woman with loose family connections to Strike’s former fiancée, is convinced that the dead man is the vanished father of her newborn son. She hires Strike to prove her theory. Strike and his partner, Robin Ellacott, discover that there are other missing men whose descriptions match the corpse, so they need to find each of these men to eliminate or confirm him as the murder victim. And then their investigations uncover more victims.

As in the previous installments, the personal relationship between Cormoran and Robin plays an important role in the narrative. Robin is in an increasingly deepening relationship with CID Officer Ryan Murphy. Will Cormoran finally speak of his feelings for his partner before Ryan cements their relationship? I must say that Cormoran and Robin’s see-saw relationship is becoming tiresome. After 7 years, there has been no progress. I find myself becoming increasingly exasperated with Strike’s constant hesitating and Robin’s inability to be honest with herself and others. The pointless keeping of secrets causes unnecessary conflicts between the two.

Labyrinthine is the best adjective to describe the plot. There are so many characters in the convoluted investigation that it is difficult to keep track of all the characters and remember the relationships among the large cast. And on the topic of characters, am I the only one who thinks that Ryan is just another Matthew? Robin’s ex-husband was jealous of Cormoran and subtly manipulated Robin, and Ryan is equally guilty.

Parts of the book are predictable. The trajectory of the plot involving Kim Cochran is so obvious. She flirts with Cormoran and disrespects Robin so what happens is inevitable. An important question involves how the murderer got into the vault, yet neither Robin nor Strike investigate the solution that will occur to anyone familiar with crime fiction and dramas?!

As the series continues, my enjoyment of the books is lessening. I’m not sure how much longer I will continue. Perhaps I’ll just stream Strike.

Review of THE LAND IN WINTER by Andrew Miller

 3 Stars

I picked up this book because it was shortlisted for the 2025 Booker Prize and won the Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as impressed as the judges of these awards.

Set in England’s rural West Country in 1962-63, the novel focuses on two couples, neighbours, who are discontented and whose marriages are emotionally disconnected. Eric Parry is a doctor married to Irene who has left behind London literary life. Bill Simmons is a rookie farmer married to Rita, a former showgirl, who is having difficulty adapting to the life of a farmer’s wife. The winter, with its historically cold temperatures and blizzard conditions with record snowfall, imposes physical isolation that exacerbates tensions and resentments.

Each of the four characters is developed in depth. Eric is not a pleasant person; arrogant and self-serving, he carries on an affair with a married woman while virtually ignoring Irene. Well-educated and sensitive Irene seems lost, passively accepting the role of doctor’s wife. Bill is an idealistic dreamer trying his hand at farming about which he knows little. He has doubts about his marriage “to a woman more suited to being a mistress than a wife, whose past he thought he would be better off not knowing too much about.” Rita is vivacious but scattered and also troubled; she misses the excitement of the big city. Irene and Rita become friends. Both are pregnant and so share similar concerns: their lives are about to be dramatically changed. Though the four protagonists have complexity, I felt disconnected from them. Perhaps this feeling is what the author strove to illicit in order to emphasize the disconnectedness of the characters’ lives. Unfortunately, because I didn’t feel invested, I didn’t much care about their fates.

The narrative begins very slowly. There is little plot and everything is described in great detail. The author excels at painting a picture but some of those descriptions feel unnecessary and certainly slow the novel’s pace. The final section, however, has so much action that it feels chaotic. There is more tension and suspense, but by then I didn’t really care about what happened to the characters. To state that the ending is abrupt is almost an understatement.

The book is bleak in many ways. Winter and darkness are not just part of the landscape, but deep within the lonely, empty lives of the four main characters. The tone is set early in the novel; it opens with the suicide of a young man and the birth of a stillborn calf. Even the writing, with its meandering prose, feels cold and dispassionate. The dialogue is stilted and unnaturally formal, mirroring the shallow and distant connections. World War II and the Holocaust still loom large. Not only is there repeated mention of the destruction in London which is still re-building, but there are also references to concentration camps like Bergen-Belsen and what was discovered there. More than one person has suffered war-time trauma.

Interestingly, the character about whom I would have liked to learn more is Gabby Miklos, Eric’s partner in the medical practice. He appears periodically and is the person who tries the hardest to connect with others. His conversation with Bill at the dinner party and Eric’s visit with him near the end are revealing. His would be an interesting story.

The author excels at creating the tediousness of dissatisfied people living isolated lives. But for me, the book was often a tedious read. I felt only a shallow connection to the characters and the plot left me dissatisfied.

Review of SEASCRAPER by Benjamin Wood

 4 Stars

This novel was brought to my attention when it appeared on the 2025 Booker Prize longlist.

The novel is set in the early 1960s in a coastal village in northwestern England. Twenty-year-old Thomas Flett earns his living as a shanker: he rides a horse up and down the beach scraping the sand for shrimp. His is a hard life that has taken its toll so he shambles along “with all the spryness of a nursing-home resident.” He yearns for more than his life which is “just a mindless trudge of work”; he dreams of performing folk songs in the local pub and courting a local young woman. Unfortunately, he lacks the courage to do either.

Thomas’ life changes with the arrival of Edgar Acheson, a fast-talking American who claims to be a film director scouting locations for a movie. Though Thomas is reluctant at first, he eventually agrees to act as Edgar’s guide. It’s not just the money: “It’s a bridge he wants – between Longferry and the world beyond – and Mr Acheson could be the one to help him build it.” But is Edgar all that he claims to be?

And that’s the reason why I found much of the novel to be suspenseful. Aspects of Edgar’s behaviour cast doubt on his claims. Perhaps I was overly skeptical of Edgar because the novel reminded of Whale Fall by Elizabeth O’Connor in which a young girl yearns for life in the wider world but ends up being manipulated by visiting ethnographers who lie to her and steal from her. I was concerned that he is being led down the garden path. And my concern increased as Thomas becomes more invested in Edgar’s plans: “He gets the sense that something’s turning in his fortunes. All those dreary shifts at sea, gone unrewarded. All his ma’s relentless praying before bedtime. Well, at last a table scrap of luck’s been thrown to them to gnaw the meat off.”

And then there’s tension because of the danger involved in Thomas’ work. There are sinkpits everywhere which can claim a person’s life yet Edgar insists on Thomas taking him out on a foggy night. I found myself even worried about Thomas’ horse: Thomas warns, “’The horse’ll tire out and catch a chill if we stay out in [the cold, deep water] too long’” but Edgar ignores him and even admires the horse’s colour when it has worked up a sweat: “’It’s got a lustre to it now it’s got a sweat on – really great.’”

It is impossible not to like Thomas. His intelligence is obvious. Unfortunately, he is forced to leave school in order to help his family, though he had “an awareness of his own capacity.” His life is difficult; the novel begins with details about his daily routine, details which emphasize how harsh and monotonous his life is. And all that work barely guarantees that he and his mother can survive. His comments about Edgar reveal such humanity; even when disheartened, Thomas is capable of understanding and compassion. His mother may be a nag but Thomas remembers her sacrifices for him so it’s obvious he could never abandon her.

The novel is a coming-of-age story. Thomas learns that he’s lost joy in his life: “most folk seem to carry on undaunted, just like children gaily sliding down a sand dune. When did he stop sliding for the fear of broken glass and bloody knees?” He also realizes the power of art. Edgar tells him that “’Art’s the only way I’ve ever had of making any sense of [life].’” Later Thomas thinks that though the sea provides his livelihood and he can respect himself for being steadfast to his work, “there’s no meaning in it any more,” but music would provide him “with a better purpose” because “a song belongs to someone. To whoever dreamed it up. Yesterday it wasn’t even born, and now it’s in the world.”

This is more a novella than a novel, yet it has so much in it. I can understand why it has been applauded so widely.

Review of FLASHLIGHT by Susan Choi

 4 Stars

This novel caught my attention when it appeared on the shortlist for the 2025 Booker Prize.

In 1978, ten-year-old Louisa Kang goes for a walk on a Japanese beach with her father Serk. The next morning she is found unconscious on the shore, but Serk has vanished. From this pivotal event, the novel moves back and then forwards in time. There are flashbacks to Serk’s childhood. Known as Hiroshi, he was born in Japan to Korean parents born on the island of Jeju. After the war, they leave for North Korea, lured by promises of a socialist paradise. Serk, however, moves to the U.S. where he becomes a professor and marries Anne, an American white woman. Louisa is their only child, though Anne, when she was nineteen, had a son Tobias whom she relinquished to his father. Serk agrees to an exchange year in Japan from which he never returns. What happened to him? Though he is presumed to have drowned, a body is never found, and the reader comes to suspect that Serk’s disappearance may in fact be connected to geopolitical events.

At over 450 pages, the book is fairly lengthy. It is also dense and so sometimes feels like an intellectual exercise. Choi loves complex sentences and em dashes. For instance, Serk, upon seeing Anne take their daughter to swimming lessons reacts with rage: “Only the inhibition that overcame Serk in those settings in which he was unusually anomalous, as he was at the YMCA pool – not just the only foreigner but the only person in a suit, his shirt sticking to his sides in the chemically pungent humidity, his dress shoes slipping on the pool deck as though he were trespassing in some stranger’s giant bathroom, the incessant thundering echo of screaming and splashing almost, but not quite, emboldening him to give vent to his rage on the spot – had prevented him from giving vent to his rage on the spot.” Sometimes sentences need to be re-read because their purpose gets lost in the numerous phrases and clauses.

The novel used third person omniscient narration but each chapter focuses on a different character, mostly Serk, Anne, or Louisa. This approach means that we learn of Serk’s fate even though it remains unknown to his family. Of course, readers also come to know each of these characters very well: their thoughts, feelings, hopes, and dreams. All three, however, are difficult to like. All are stubborn and self-centred; they all seem to lack empathy. Serk, for instance, is impatient and arrogant and constantly aggrieved; he has no empathy for Anne or Louisa when he decides unilaterally to move them all to Japan. When Anne reunites with Tobias, she has little concern for how that might affect Louisa. When her mother’s health becomes a concern, Louisa shows no sympathy whatsoever.

What stands out is that there often seems little connection among the three; they interact but remain loners, alienated from each other. In many ways, the book is about secrets and their consequences. Serk never tells Anne about his childhood in Japan and his family’s emigration to North Korea. He doesn’t share that his return to Japan has a hidden agenda: seeing his sister and perhaps bringing his family back to Japan. Anne reunites with her son without telling her husband. Just before they leave for Japan, she begins to experience symptoms of an illness but keeps them to herself until it’s impossible to hide them. Pre-occupied with their private concerns, neither parent shares with Louisa so she feels isolated from them just as she also feels alienated in a new culture. At one point, Louisa thinks, “The sum of the things she knows about her father could fit inside the sum of the things she’ll never know about him an infinite number of times. The things she knows about him are as meager as a pair of backgammon dice rattling in their cup.” This statement applies to all of them. If, instead of silence, there had been real communication, the dynamics would have been very different. The metaphor of the flashlight works well in emphasizing how each character tends to see only what is in front of him/her. So much remains in darkness so they all stumble along.

Of course the remoteness that develops is understandable. They build walls to protect themselves and so end up joyless. Serk, though born in Japan, is a second-class citizen there and is also never accepted as an American. When just a young man, he loses his entire family. Anne, at nineteen, is placed in a position where she must give up her child. As an adult, she is ostracized because she married a foreigner. Then she becomes a widow. Louisa, because of her parentage and appearance, feels out of place. Then she loses her father, with whom she was very close, just as Anne’s diagnosis means she must prioritize her own health. So despite the three characters being rather unlikeable, readers cannot but have sympathy for them.

There is much to parse in this book. The effect of world politics on individuals deserves discussion, but that would be a spoiler. I recommend the book but advise that readers set aside considerable time to read it; it deserves to be read slowly and to be given careful thought.

Review of NOT QUITE DEAD YET by Holly Jackson

 2.5 Stars

After some heavy reads with complex themes, I decided to pick up some light reading. I chose this book because it has an interesting premise: someone solving her own murder.

Twenty-seven-year-old Jet Mason is violently attacked by an unseen intruder. She suffers a catastrophic head injury which her doctor tells her will trigger a deadly aneurysm within a week. Jet decides she wants to spend her remaining time solving her assault case which she knows will soon be upgraded to a murder case. She is assisted by her childhood friend, Billy Finney.

Unfortunately, from the beginning, I had difficulty suspending disbelief. Jet has major head trauma; the doctor tells her, “’you were comatose, had to be intubated. Suffered cardiac arrest from blood loss shortly after.” She had a fractured skull and had surgery and a lethal aneurysm looms, yet she leaves the hospital almost immediately after regaining consciousness. And the doctor’s only instruction is, “’Just change the dressings every day’”? Shortly afterwards, she starts slinging a sledgehammer. She starts losing feeling in various parts of her body, but she is able to physically exert herself in ways that would be daunting for someone healthy and fit?!

The other problem with Jet is her immaturity. She behaves like a bratty teenager rather than someone in her late twenties. She even runs away from home! She has no plan for her life. She’s always procrastinating, her favourite expression being, “’I’ll do it later.’” She blames others, like her dead sister and her demanding mother and her undemanding father, for her lack of accomplishments.

And then there’s Jet’s relationship with Billy. The entire thing seems so juvenile. Billy has had a crush on Jet since their childhood, but Jet doesn’t realize it? From the beginning, the author makes it so obvious that Billy is smitten. Does there have to be a romance element added? Can’t people just be friends?

The secondary characters tend to be one-dimensional. Virtually everyone is self-centred and unlikeable. Besides the person responsible for Jet’s attack, there’s at least one other murderer and an arsonist. One person should surely be charged with attempted murder and another should be charged with fraud. Women cheat or abandon families. Billy is one positive figure but the constant repetition of his need to help others becomes tedious.

Holly Jackson is best known as a YA author. Though this book is marketed as her first foray into adult fiction, my impression is that she continues to use the type of characterization and writing style that appeal to less sophisticated readers. The novel has an original premise, but its execution is unimaginative.

Review of CURSED DAUGHTERS by Oyinkan Braithwaite

 3.5 Stars

I loved the author’s first novel, My Sister, the Serial Killer, so was curious to read her second one.

The Falodun women are cursed to be heartbroken and unable to hold on to a man: “’all the women . . . will suffer for man’s sake.’” Over time, all end up returning to the family home in Lagos. The novel focuses on three of those women: Ebun, Eniiyi, and Monife. The plot begins in 2000 with Monife committing suicide by drowning. On that same day, her cousin Ebun gives birth to her daughter Eniiyi. Eniiyi bears an uncanny resemblance to Monife and she begins to wonder if she is the reincarnation of her aunt.

The narrative moves back and forth in time, ranging from 1994 to 2025, and amongst the three women. What comes to the forefront is the similarities between Monife and her niece: physical appearance, including an almost identical scar, depressive episodes, and the same relationship dynamics with their boyfriends who are also very similar. Eniiyi hates the constant reminders of her resemblance to Monife and wants to be her own person. She also wants to break free and defeat the curse that seems to have affected the women in her family. There are seven chapters, all entitled “Falodun Family Curse,” each of which details how the curse impacted the life of a Falodun woman.

What I did not like is that the Falodun women are all obsessed with men. They envision no other path to happiness and see their worth only in relation to a man. For instance, Bunmi, Monife’s mother, is a respected headmistress at the local school but “behind closed doors, . . . flirted with strange spirits and gods.” She spends her money on the services of a mamalawo who performs rituals she claims will lure back Bunmi’s husband, “despite the fact that he had a new wife and two children.” Kemi, Ebun’s mother, is always disappearing “with one of several wealthy suitors into Lagos society. She was caught up in a quest to ensnare a fourth husband.” This obsession with men is also seen in the romances of both Monife and Eniiyi. Monife falls in love with a man she calls Golden Boy as soon as she sees him. This love-at-first-sight trope is then repeated with Eniiyi who has the same reaction to Zubby.

Women in the family teach their fatherless daughters to prepare for betrayal and abandonment by men. Ebun wants no discussion of the curse in front of her daughter, but her behaviour towards men, especially towards Osagie, suggests her belief in its existence. She refuses to give a man a choice in a relationship, claiming that he might not have a choice because of the curse. This comment suggests to me that the curse is just a self-fulfilling prophecy: the constant references to the curse influence the women’s behaviours which over time become generational patterns.

The frequent switching among perspectives and time periods can be confusing. But I did find that the women emerge as interesting and distinct characters. The trait they share is obstinacy. Because they are all headstrong, there are inevitable clashes. But what is also clear is the love that binds them. What is particularly sad for me is how damaged the lives of the women are because of their belief in the curse. Happiness and fulfillment are possible, but they don’t see a way forward because of their fixations on men and the curse.

I did not find this novel as entrancing as My Sister, the Serial Killer but enjoyed it. I especially liked the characterization, the occasional touches of humour, and the cultural elements.

Review of NEEDLE LAKE by Justine Champine (New Release)

 4 Stars

This is a coming-of-age story.

Fourteen-year-old Ida lives with her mother in the small logging town of Mineral, Washington. Her life consists of attending school, helping her mother in their convenience store, and studying geography and maps which are almost an obsession for her. The arrival of her sixteen-year-old cousin Elna changes everything. Elna seems to be all that Ida is not, so Ida is soon enchanted. After a tragedy, however, their relationship becomes more complicated and slowly Ida’s adulation of her cousin becomes mixed with fear.

This is a character-driven novel in which both girls emerge as complex individuals. Ida, the narrator, is immediately endearing. She is shy and introverted. She does not fit in at school: noises bother her, she is sensitive to touch, loves orderliness, and speaks tonelessly. As a result of her differences, which suggest she is on the autism spectrum, she is bullied and lonely. The world has taught her that because she is a girl, “the best thing I could be was mild. Sweet. Yielding. Endlessly tolerant. A fawn nestled in the grass.” The fact that she has a hole in her heart, which restricts her involvement in physical activities, only adds to her exclusion. At one point, she comments, “’I don’t feel at home in the world.’”

Elna is Ida’s foil. She is glamorous and sophisticated and charming. Ida describes her cousin as “self-possessed, confident, a little standoffish.” In some ways, Elna behaves like she inhabits the world of boys “where anger and mischief and bold, unabashed confidence were permissible.” It is perfectly understandable why Ida becomes enamoured, especially when Elna treats her like a normal person and introduces her to a wider world.

Of course, the reader soon suspects that there may be more to Elna than Ida sees. Certainly her actions immediately upon arrival in Mineral, when the girls visit a variety store, leave the reader wondering about Elna. Jen, a friend of Ida’s mother, feels it necessary to warn Ida about Elna: “’I think she’s a different sort of kid than you. . . . I think maybe you should take it a little slow. . . . I want you to be safe and careful wherever you go, whoever you go with.’” A random woman even tells Elna, “’There’s something very dark in you.’” And her behaviour starts to suggest that this statement is an astute observation. What Ida sees as brave and daring behaviour may, in fact, be seen as recklessness. Is Elna sincere in befriending Ida or is she manipulating her naive and vulnerable younger cousin?

The book is advertised as an exploration of teenage girlhood. I must comment that what is portrayed is very typical behaviour of teenaged girls: problem-solving and decision-making skills are weak but the propensity for risk-taking is strong. Emotions are felt deeply but proper coping mechanisms are lacking. What struck me is Ida’s repeated references to her anger, and though Elna’s strongest emotion is not specifically named until later, it’s obvious that it has influenced her actions from an early age.

There are a couple of issues about the ending that bothered me. Ida suffers no consequences for either the event at the lake or the event in San Francisco? The novel is slow paced, but then there’s an abrupt ending, followed by an epilogue that covers years in a few paragraphs. This contrast in pacing is jarring.

Readers will find much to appreciate in this book.

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

Review of CANTICLE by Janet Rich Edwards (New Release)

 3 Stars

This historical novel is set in the late thirteenth century in Bruges, Belgium.

Aleys is an unusual child. From early childhood, she is fascinated by her mother’s psalter and the stories of saints and martyrs. She learns to read and later learns Latin as well. When her father promises her in marriage to a merchant, she runs away. She wants to join the Franciscan friars but because of her gender is given shelter by the beguines, a community of religious laywomen focused on religious devotion and charity. While working in a hospital, Aleys seems to perform miracles so she comes to the attention of the ambitious bishop. She chooses to become an anchorite, living a solitary life of prayer. However, agreeing to be walled into a small cell from which she is forbidden to ever leave does not end her spiritual journey or her sacrifices.

I did not find Aleys relatable or particularly likeable. As a child, she has a spark: she is intelligent, spirited, and stubborn. Despite visions, she has a sense of humour. For instance, when she has a vision, “She hopes the angel will return. Just so long as he doesn’t announce she’s pregnant.” Once she chooses a religious life, she loses this spark and becomes just bland. The Magistra, the leader of the beguines, describes Aleys very aptly: “’She has a calling, . . . I can see that. It doesn’t mean she has charisma.’” At times she is the opposite of what would be expected. For instance, she comes across as conceited: she doesn’t want to be an ordinary beguine but “wants to be more than another thread in the cloth.” She wants ecstasy: “Aleys left home to fly.” Her attitude does change somewhat, but she certainly seems to be full of herself, in love with the idea that God has chosen her. To say she is obsessed is not an overstatement. Sometimes there seems little difference between Aleys and Lukas, her confessor, who ends up suffering what I can only think of as a form of insanity.

I found the book slow. From the beginning, we know Aleys’ fate so all that remains is how she gets to that end. For long periods of time, nothing happens. Her time as an anchorite is just pages of her praying, listening to petitions, experiencing visions, and then despairing when her visions cease. The descriptions of visions are problematic; they’re largely undecipherable. This obscurity is obviously intentional, but paragraphs of unintelligible prose do not make for interesting reading.

There are elements I liked. For example, there are some wonderful turns of phrase: “Eventually, her siblings leave her alone with her saints. Griete discovers the looking glass, Claus deserts martyrs for marbles, and Henryk, growing firm of jaw, decides that virgins are, in fact, interesting.” The book clearly shows the views of women at the time: a friar thinks “Women are easily tempted, prone to deception by demons. It’s hardly their fault. They’re daughters of Eve.” I loved the version of the Sodom and Gomorrah story from the perspective of Lot’s wife and the conclusion, from a woman’s perspective, that Abraham failed God’s test. I appreciated the message that “’heaven is on earth, before us, if only we can see it’” and “everyone [speaks with God]. It’s just so hard to hear.”

The Church’s control over the populace is emphasized. When the bishop finds translations of the Bible into Dutch, the common language, he declares them a heresy. Ecclesiastical power is diminished if “people are asking why they can’t speak directly with God” without the intercession of clergy. In particular, “’The Church wants to silence difficult women.’” Corruption in the Church, as in the sale of indulgences and relics, is emphasized, so much so that the bishop wonders, “Why would God get involved in the affairs of his own church? He’s turned a blind eye to the corruption for centuries.”

The book offers insight into Christianity in medieval times: mysticism, beguines, and anchorites. Unfortunately, the pace is slow so it is sometimes difficult to maintain interest.

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

Review of SONGS OF LOVE ON A DECEMBER NIGHT by David Adams Richards

 4 Stars

David Adams Richards is a Canadian author whose books I always purchase as hardcovers as soon as I learn of a new release. This is the twelfth novel of his that I have read.

Colonel Musselman dies of a gunshot wound. Six years later, despite his claims of innocence, Jamie Musselman is convicted of his father’s murder. His fiancée Gertie is among the very few that believe there has been a miscarriage of justice. Very early in the novel, the reader comes to understand that others are responsible for the Colonel’s death: one person shot him but others were present and another provided crucial information. The focus of the novel is on the events that led to the killing and what happens after Jamie has been convicted and imprisoned.

This book has all the hallmarks of a David Adams Richards novel. Of course there’s the rural setting of New Brunswick’s Miramichi River valley which is found in most of his novels. There’s an innocent person charged with a crime (like in Mary Cyr). There are exaggerated rumours and sensationalized gossip (as in Crimes Against My Brother). There are criticisms of certain groups like academics, feminists, and activists (as in The Tragedy of Eva Mott and Darkness and Principles to Live By). As in Mary Cyr, Canada is criticized: “Canada became insipid, a country hollowed out by intellectual conceit and sanctimonious self-reflection. . . . to the rest of the world, in many respects, it was [invisible].” Of course, some of the comments cannot but elicit a smile: one character “did not know that Ottawa was the capital of Canada, and believed it was Washington. Well, what the matter – more than one of our professors and political gurus did as well.” As in The Lost Highway, there is repetition of how non-believers inspired by reason rather than faith have become lost souls.

What is always impressive about DAR’s books is the memorable, authentic characters.  The author takes great pains to explain the motivations of characters – why they make the choices they do.  Sometimes people lash out because they feel betrayed; some are concerned about appearances and status; and some place personal ambition above all else. The backgrounds of characters are also detailed so the reader comes to understand why they behave as they do. Even someone who behaves despicably earns some sympathy when we learn about his/her past. As in previous books, the wisest characters are often those without a formal, academic education.

What is emphasized is that choices have ramifications, sometimes spanning generations. One professor tells a student, “’sometimes whatever we do affects the lives of many not yet born, or those born we do not yet know.’” For example, Gertie’s father wants to make an impression on someone, so he tells a man about money in Colonel Musselman’s house; passing on this information has disastrous consequences. A woman makes a decision to lie to save a man from a jail sentence, “And everything from that moment on changed dramatically in everyone’s life. Though none of them knew it then. All of this happened as if there would be no consequence.” One man, thinking back to events, ponders “When did it all begin?”

As in DAR’s previous novels, what also stands out is the inter-connectedness of all the characters. I grew up in a small town and know first-hand how everyone knows everyone, but sometimes the way people’s paths cross by chance seems contrived. Coincidences occur too: Pruty overhears conversations and finds a crucial letter; Marsha has a visitor when Little Nin calls.

This is not a light read; readers familiar with DAR’s books will not find this surprising. There is theft, infidelity, rape, murder, lying, family disintegration, loneliness, chronic pain, police ineptitude, and heartbreak. Several of the seven deadly sins come into play. So many elements in his books are familiar, but what most impresses is his deep understanding of the human condition and human behaviour.  

Review of VENETIAN VESPERS by John Banville

4 Stars 

I loved this novel set in Venice at the turn of the twentieth century.

Evelyn Dolman, a self-described “Grub Street hack,” is married to Laura Rensselaer, daughter of an American oil baron. Though they have been married for about six months, theirs is really a mariage blanc. The trip to Venice is their honeymoon, delayed because of the sudden death of Laura’s father.

The first night in the city, Evelyn goes for a walk and stops for a drink at the Caffè Florian. There he encounters a man, Frederick FitzHerbert, who claims to have attended the same boarding school, though Evelyn has no recollection of him. When Evelyn is introduced to Cesca, Frederick’s sister, he is immediately smitten. The next morning, Laura disappears. Other strange things happen and Evelyn suspects that he is a pawn being manipulated by someone, but he doesn’t know by whom or for what reason.

Evelyn is the narrator of his own story, and he reveals at the beginning that “In telling my tale I am trying to be as I was then, still happily ignorant of all that I know now.” So the reader struggles, like Evelyn, “to penetrate through successive veils of obfuscation.” He describes his time in Venice as a “time of confusion, fear, and ultimate disaster” during which “a woman died.” He experiences doubts and more than one “tremor of misgiving” and wonders whether he has been spotted “as someone who would be easily gulled,” yet he acknowledges that he rushed “forward heedlessly to embrace my own destruction.” So the reader’s interest is grasped: What exactly happened? Who died? And what were Evelyn’s “worst miscalculations . . . [and] most calamitous errors”?

Since Evelyn is the narrator, there is always the question of his reliability. Can his version of events be trusted? What there is little doubt of is his unlikeability. He is self-absorbed, self-important, self-satisfied, self-righteous, self-pitying, self-serving, and self-justifying. What he is not is self-aware. There is one episode in particular, with Laura the night before she goes missing, during which Evelyn behaves in an unforgivable way, but he constantly makes excuses for his actions. Before beginning his story, Evelyn adds, “There is no doubt of it, I deserved all I got.” At the end, the reader must consider if this is true.

The author certainly plays fair, providing many clues. In dialogue, a motif emerges: “appearances are deceptive” and “one never can tell what’s going on behind one’s back” and “this is Italy, remember, where there’s hardly a person who is what he claims to be.” There is repeated reference to twins: Laura’s sister is Thomasina, which means “twin”; Frederick and Cesca are twins; Laura and Cesca look like twins; and the palazzo in which Laura and Evelyn take residence is the Palazzo Dioscuri which refers to Castor and Pollux, the legendary twins from mythology. Evelyn even speaks of himself as two people: “on the outside manly and self-satisfied while the inner midget seethed with unquenchable ressentiment and spleen.”  Even the name Evelyn, a gender-neutral name, may be significant.

Banville excels at creating an atmosphere with strong gothic elements. There’s a decaying palazzo that “might have been Bluebeard’s Castle,” which wallows “in the noisome shallows of the Canal Grande, that sluggish waterway coiling itself like a fat, grey-green worm through the very bowels of the city.” “The night was foggy, and there was a sulphurous glow that seemed the breath of some ghoulish thing” and during the day, “a low, seamless stretch of cloud laid upon the city like a soiled cotton bandage.” Venice itself is described as “this most elusive, this most crafty, of cities,” a place “of glancing lights, distorting reflections, looming shadows” and a “pestilential town lodged in the fetid crotch of the Adriatic.”

I enjoyed the book for many reasons. Besides the creepy atmosphere of the setting and the constant doubts surrounding characters and events, I love Banville’s writing style with its lush, poetic language. I had to pause to look up certain words like quondam and Latin phrases like vade mecum, but the book was a page turner for me. And the ending provides resolution, but had me thinking that, like Evelyn, “I didn’t yet know the half of it.”

Novel Recommendations for Christmas Gifts

For my hometown newspaper, The Madawaska Valley Current, I've written my annual article recommending fiction titles to gift at Christmas or to include on a to-read list.  Go to https://madvalleycurrent.com/2025/11/20/novel-recommendations-for-christmas-gifts/ to read my suggestions which include Canadian titles (including a trilogy) as well as books by writers from the U.S., England, France, Norway, and New Zealand.

Review of DID I EVER TELL YOU? by Genevieve Kingston

 3.5 Stars

I don’t especially enjoy memoirs and read this one only because it was chosen by my book club. I hate reviewing the genre because any criticism can seem like a disparagement of the writer’s experiences.

When the author, known as Gwenny or Gwen, was three, her mother Kristina was diagnosed with breast cancer. The cancer metastasized and the prognoses became more dire, but she survived for eight more years. She leaves behind a box full of gifts and letters for each birthday until the age of 30 as well as major life milestones. These tokens give Gwen a connection to her mother, but also allow her to learn about her.

She also continues to understand her mother through the stories shared by Kristina’s friends: “’Did I ever tell you . . . ?’ they’d begin, and I’d have one more memory to add to my collection.” In the end she comes to see her mother as an individual with a life separate from her children and her illness.

The book is a testament to a mother’s love which is stronger than death. I can’t imagine being Kristina: experiencing physical and emotional pain knowing that death is looming. Then there’s the act of choosing gifts and writing letters to her son and daughter; despite her personal anguish, she has “an overwhelming desire to comfort and protect.”

Kristina’s message to her daughter is to know yourself, love yourself, and remain true to yourself. And the message to the reader seems to be to collect and hold memories of loved ones. But, actually, the most impactful statement for me is a comment about a man’s death by suicide. Gwen mentions that her mother fought so hard to live and the aunt replies, “’there’s no reason to think that he did not fight just as valiantly.’”

I loved that photos of the gifts Gwen received are included. What I would have liked, however, is to know more about the gifts and letters Jamie, Gwen’s brother, received. The only gift specifically mentioned is an engagement ring. Of course, the fact that Gwen is an extrovert and Jamie is an introvert explains why she, not her brother, wrote a book.

This is a heavy read. From the beginning it is sad, and there is little to relieve that sadness. Parts of it are repetitive – Kristina’s anguish and Gwen’s grief – but, undoubtedly, anyone who has lost a parent will relate to at least parts of the memoir.

Review of LISTEN by Sacha Bronwasser (New Release)

4 Stars 

This novel was first published in Dutch in 2023 (Luister).

The narrator is Marie living in Paris in September of 2021. She looks back at her life as a young woman in the 1980s. She addresses her story to Flo (Florence de Silva), one of Marie’s photography instructors who took a special interest in her when she was a student at an unnamed university in the Netherlands. Marie begins by stating that every story rests on three points and the three points in the story she is going to tell are Philippe Lambert, Flo, and herself.

She begins with Philippe Lambert, a middle manager living in Paris, who has the curse of foreknowledge: he is able to anticipate impending disaster though he cannot do anything to stop it. Marie focuses on the events of 1986 when Paris is experiencing a wave of terrorist attacks and Philippe and his wife Laurence hire Eloïse, a young German girl, as an au pair for their son Nicolas.  Then the narrative switches to 1989. Marie, after abandoning her studies, moves to Paris and becomes an au pair for the Lamberts who now have two sons. Flo’s story is set in 2015 and ends with the November 2015 Paris attacks which bring together the stories of the three characters.

Throughout, there are questions which pique the reader’s interest. What happened between Flo and Marie that resulted in her leaving school and escaping to Paris? Why does Philippe react so strongly when he first meets Eloïse and why does he behave so strangely around her? What happened to Flo during the terrorist attacks? How do the stories of the three come together?

Of course, the seemingly disparate stories do come together and in such a way that one cannot but be impressed by the intricate and masterful plotting. I think this book offers rewards to those who have the time to re-read it. A quick re-reading of the prologue, for instance, has snippets like these in which Marie directly addresses Flo: “I didn’t see your face among the talking heads. Your story wasn’t told; you’ve always remained silent. Again, those images, but you will never see them” and “You’ll have to make time for [our story] too. Listen.” Only after knowing what happens did I fully appreciate the meaning of these words.

The title is perfect. There’s Marie telling Flo to listen to her story. There’s Philippe who has no choice but to listen to his fears, though when he tries to warn others of impending danger, “nobody wanted to listen.” There’s Marie listening to a new language when she first arrives in Paris and what happens when she finally discovers she understands French conversation. And then there’s the ending which adds so much to the relevance of the title.

There are a number of themes, but the one that stood out for me is the issue of appropriation of people’s stories. Flo argues that “It’s not up to us to form a moral judgment about how far a photographer is allowed to go. If you really want to say something, you have to be shameless.” The philosopher Roland Barthes is quoted as saying that photographs are dangerous and gluttonous because “They turn the photographed person into an object. What is an object? A thing, something, without a soul.” And then there’s the question of whether Marie reclaims her agency, her story, and appropriates Flo’s.

This is a thought-provoking read which I think would impress even more on a second reading.

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

Review of BENBECULA by Graeme Macrae Burnet (New Release)

 4 Stars

I’ve read a couple of this author’s books: His Bloody Project (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2016/08/review-of-his-bloody-project-by-graeme.html) and Case Study (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2022/10/review-of-case-study-by-graeme-macrae.html). Both of these I enjoyed, and this third one is equally good.

This historical novel, based on an actual crime committed in 1857, is set on Benbecula, an island of the Outer Hebrides. The narrator, Malcolm MacPhee, is living in the family home where a few years earlier, his younger brother Angus killed their father, mother and aunt. A recluse ostracized by his community, he seems to be slowly losing his grip on sanity.

Malcolm suggests that Angus was always unstable, though just prior to the murders, his fits of madness become more frequent and more violent. Young women feel unsafe in his presence: he “had a shameless fascination for those parts of his body and their functions that decency normally dictates are kept private.” Angus’ family, because they do not have the funds to have him placed in an asylum, are told to keep him under control. There is little doubt that he is suffering from a mental illness.

As Malcolm continues his story, it becomes increasingly obvious that he too may be suffering from a similar illness. From the beginning, he confesses to wanting to differentiate himself from his brother, “yet I was haunted by the sense that I was not his opposite but his mirror image” and adds, “He sometimes even came to me in my dreams so that I felt that Angus penetrated my whole being.” After the murders, Malcolm has become a recluse and has given up working, though earlier he was outraged that “there was not a fellow in the entirety of Benbecula more dedicated to the practice of Sloth than Angus.” He fantasies about rape. Even his youngest sibling tells him, “You’re a tyrant and a bully, Malcolm.” He also admits to seeing phantoms.

Malcolm starts questioning his own sanity. He talks about his mind being “a devious thing” and admits to hearing voices: “And I find myself wondering, when these dialogues run in my mind, whether I am the mind that goads me or I am the mind that reasons with the other mind. And I feel that I am not one man but two men. If I am the brain contained within my skullhouse, then there is another self contained within my skull. Were I to give him a name, I would call him Angus. It is Angus that goads me. It is Angus . . . that gives me no peace. There are times I confess when I have been driven to beat my head against the walls of the house to drive him out but that does no good.” But he clings to being normal: “I have heard other men say, I’m in two minds about such and such a thing. It is quite commonplace this being in two minds. I am a man just like other men and they are men just like me.”

What is most telling is Malcolm’s use of words. For example, he states, “I am still capable – through the careful weighing of evidence – of distinguishing between reality and illusion. The certainty that the tormented voices I hear are only inside my head convinces me that I remain in possession of my reason. A madman could surely not achieve such clarity of thought.” Words like still and surely undermine his certainty. He comments, “I am careful to behave like other men. To speak the way they speak and act the way they act for I am still capable of doing so.” The repetition of “am still capable” is telling.

All of this leaves the reader wondering about the origins of insanity. Is it a hereditary trait? (More than once, Malcolm speculates about how those possessed of fine features marry others with similar traits while “The less fortunate are left with what scraps they can find – the disfigured or feeble-minded – and through procreation combine the worst characteristics of each parent . . . [so] the rest of us become more degraded with each passing generation.” This almost implies inbreeding, and Malcolm’s relationship with his sister Marion left me wondering about the possibility of incest.) Or is Malcolm’s descent into madness a reaction to the killing of his family?

I found this novella thoroughly absorbing, especially the gradual revelation of Malcolm’s troubled state of mind. I suspected him of being an unreliable narrator from the beginning, but his last sentence still caught me by surprise. And the extended Afterword provides even more information for the reader to consider.

When a book lingers in my mind after I finish reading it and when I’m considering re-reading it, I have no hesitation in recommending it to others.

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

Review of EVENSONG by Stewart O'Nan (New Release)

 4 Stars

Having enjoyed the author’s last book, Ocean State (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2022/03/review-of-ocean-state-by-stewart-onan.html), I was anxious to read his upcoming release, Evensong.

This novel, set in Pittsburgh between September 2022 and January 2023, focuses on four members of the Humpty Dumpty Club, a volunteer club dedicated to helping seniors needing assistance. They drive people to appointments and pick up groceries and prescriptions. The four women, Emily, Arlene, Kitzi, and Susie are also seniors. We follow them as they carry on helping others while also coping with the realities of aging.

Emily, a widow, struggles with trusting her daughter who is an alcoholic. Arlene, Emily’s sister-in-law, is suffering from memory lapses. (Emily and Arlene appear in the Maxwell Family trilogy consisting of Wish You Were Here; Emily, Alone; and Henry, Himself.) Kitzi is caring for a husband with severe heart disease while also taking over as the club’s leader after the previous leader fell down a flight of stairs. Susie, at 63 the youngest of the group, is trying to build a new life after a divorce.

The women, though flawed, are admirable nonetheless. Despite their personal struggles with loss and physical decline, they get up every morning ready to engage with and serve their community. They help others and look after each other, even Emily and Arlene who “couldn’t stand each other.” There is no sentimentality in their portrayal; the characters emerge as people to admire, not pity, as they near the end of their lives.

The novel is slow-paced, as is appropriate to the characters and their lives which are more mundane than full of drama. Neither does the book offer a dramatic lesson. If there is a message, it is that people should be kind to each other. It also does suggest that we should avoid making judgments of others. Just as the women learn about the interesting and impactful lives of Jean and Gene who live in unsafe and unsanitary conditions, readers are indirectly encouraged not to make assumptions about others, especially seniors. Certainly, these four women contribute meaningfully to their community.

The tone is generally serious. Scenes like Arlene losing her way while driving to Emily’s are intense and sad. The episodes with pets are often heart-warming. But there are also touches of dry humour. For example, a move to a senior’s apartment is described “like Florida, a land of no return.”

Though I initially had difficulty differentiating among the characters, once I came to know them better, I enjoyed the book. I think it will appeal to readers who love Elizabeth Strout’s novels.

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

Review of BROKEN COUNTRY by Clare Leslie Hall

 3.5 Stars

Beth and Frank Johnson are happily married and living on the family farm in Dorset. Though life for Beth has not turned out as she dreamed, she is content. Then the arrival of Gabriel Wolfe, Beth’s first love, changes everything. Beth and Gabriel reconnect over his son Leo who reminds Beth of her own son Bobby who died in a tragic accident. Thus begins a love triangle which sets in motion a chain of events that will change the lives of several people.

There are three timelines. In 1955, we learn about Beth and Gabriel’s short-lived love affair. In 1968, we witness Gabriel’s return and his entry into the lives of his neighbours, the Johnsons. The last timeline is 1969 when there’s a murder trial which Beth attends daily, though the identities of both the victim and the person charged with murder remain unknown until half way through the novel.

I know that we are to have sympathy for Beth because of the death of Bobby, but I found it difficult to like her. She is selfish and self-absorbed and emotionally immature. Over a decade has passed since the end of her romantic relationship with Gabriel, but there’s no evidence of any emotional growth. As soon as Gabriel appears, she is drawn to him and believes they have to be together, but then she also claims “it’s Frank I have to be with.” She admits, “It’s selfish of me to carry on like this,” but we don’t really see her trying not to hurt her husband. She knows the situation is untenable, but “I refuse to think about how it is going to end.” In order for characters to be realistic, they need to be flawed, but she just seems delusional. It takes another death for her to make a choice?!

On the other hand, Frank is just too good to be believable. He’s kind, reliable, hard-working, understanding, and unfailingly loving and forgiving. His misplaced atonement is unnecessary; if the truth had been revealed, the consequences would have been minimal. Addressing the trauma directly would also be beneficial. Instead, additional guilt is placed on a person who must contend with it for the rest of his life.

Other characters are also problematic. Gabriel’s mother is just so manipulative, a virtual stereotype of the rich woman who views everyone as her inferior who can only do as she dictates. It’s inevitable that she will play a role in shaping events. The same is true for Jimmy, Frank’s brother. His behaviour is definitely foreshadowing. In some ways, therefore, much of what happens is predictable. And the ending, set in 1975, is just too melodramatic, though after the heartbreak and death looming over the entire narrative, it provides some relief.

This book has received glowing reviews, but though I found it entertaining, it’s not what I consider exceptional.

Review of QUEEN ESTHER by John Irving (New Release)

 3 Stars

Some of my favourite novels have been written by John Irving, but this is not one of them.

Esther Nacht, born in 1905, becomes an orphan after her mother is killed by anti-Semites in Portland, Maine. When she is fourteen, Esther is adopted by Constance and Thomas Winslow, a couple living in New Hampshire. Though they are not Jewish, they despise anti-Semitism and are the only people open to adopting a Jewish child. Esther helps care for Honor, the youngest of four daughters, but becomes very much a part of the family. Despite its title however, the novel focuses on Jimmy Winslow, Esther’s biological child born in 1941 but raised by Honor. It is very much his coming-of-age story. Though it covers 40 years of his life, a large portion of the book details Jimmy’s study year in Vienna where he works on writing a novel and makes life-long friends.

One of the themes is that of identity. Jimmy questions his identity from an early age. He believes in his “intrinsic foreignness” because “Jimmy was a nobody’s boy. This much was understood: his mother had adopted him; his father was an unknown. As for the boy’s birth mother . . . she was an orphan.” He’s not considered “a real Winslow” so who is he? His biological mother is Jewish so is he Jewish? He thinks of himself as “just a New Hampshire boy” but travels to Vienna, Esther’s birthplace, in hopes of connecting with her. The last paragraph begins with “At last, James Winslow knew who he was” and outlines what he has realized.

Irving’s novels often center on non-traditional families, with strong but sometimes profane mothers, absent fathers, and unconventional sexual dynamics. This is certainly the case here. Constance and Thomas have four daughters, but also adopt four more. Jimmy has two mothers and he creates a type of family with Claude and Yolanda, his roommates in Vienna. Then there’s Jimmy’s daughter who also has two mothers. There’s an asexual mother and a lesbian one.

Of course it is not just the theme of identity and the unconventional families that signpost an Irving novel. Readers of his books will see many familiar motifs: the New England and Vienna settings, wrestling, the presence of at least one writer, a prominent animal role, sex workers, and quirky characters in absurd circumstances. And there are frequent digressions often found in his books; in this one, the reader is given histories of abortion and circumcision and analyses of Dickens’ novels.

Though engaging in parts, I found some sections too long and drawn out. Jimmy’s year in Vienna (1963-64) goes on and on, with constant reference to Honor’s scheme to keep her son from being drafted and sent to Vietnam. The subplot with the dishwasher and her thugs is also excessive and left me wondering what the point is. Needless repetition is a problem. Is it really necessary to have Thomas say, “’Right you are, Connie’” two dozen times? This wordiness, rambling, and lack of cohesion left me struggling to maintain interest.

Esther, though the title bears her name, remains a secondary character. We see little of her and learn most about her from others. She keeps a distance from her family and she is kept at a distance from the reader. She becomes a larger-than-life, mythical character and I guess that’s the point. However, her perspective would have added to the themes of Jewish identity, anti-Semitism, and the historical Israel/Palestine conflict, “this eternal conflict, this everlasting hatred.”

I was disappointed with this book; it did not resonate with me as Irving’s other novels have. My 3-star rating may seem insulting but is actually generous.

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