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 Steward 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.

Review of SMALL PLEASURES by Clare Chambers

 4 Stars

After reading and enjoying Shy Creatures, I was inspired to read another novel by this author and so chose this one.

It is set in 1957 in a suburb of London. Jean Swinney, 39, is a feature writer for a local newspaper. When a woman, Gretchen Tilbury, contacts the paper claiming her 10-year-old daughter Margaret is proof of parthenogenesis in humans, Jean is sent to investigate whether Margaret is indeed a miracle child, a virgin birth, or if Gretchen’s story is fraudulent. As Jean works on the story and facilitates medical tests for mother and daughter, her life becomes intertwined with the Tilburys. Gretchen becomes a friend and Margaret, a surrogate daughter. However, it is her relationship with Howard, Gretchen’s husband, that poses problems as the two develop romantic feelings.

What I enjoy about Chambers’ books is the details. In this case, it’s the details of ordinary, everyday domestic life that stand out. Jean performs domestic chores like clearing out the larder, sewing worn sheets sides to middle and soaking old tea towels in borax. Perhaps it’s an element of nostalgia for me: I can see my mother doing those types of tasks when she was a young woman.

There’s a mystery element which certainly kept my interest. What is the truth? Gretchen, during the time of Margaret’s conception, suffered from severe rheumatoid arthritis and was confined to a women’s ward in a convent-run convalescent home. Jean interviews former staff and patients and everyone vouches for Gretchen’s honesty. No one can suggest a rational explanation for her pregnancy. Because the novel is set in a period before DNA testing, Gretchen and Margaret are subjected to a series of tests like serum samples, saliva analysis, and skin grafts, and the results seem to establish a genetic match.

It is impossible not to like Jean. She lives a quiet, lonely life, taking solace in small pleasures: “the first cigarette of the day; a glass of sherry before Sunday lunch; a bar of chocolate parcelled out to last a week; a newly published library book, still pristine and untouched by other hands.” She lives with her neurotic mother who is totally dependent on her, and Jean is certainly a dutiful daughter. At work, she faces the typical problems of a female in a male-dominated profession. Approaching 40, she feels life and love have passed her by. Only after meeting Howard does she begin to feel that her prospects of happiness have not totally vanished.

Then there’s that ending. It is entirely unexpected but, unlike others who have totally disparaged it, I find that it prevents what might have been an overly sentimental resolution. And I appreciate that there is no detailed examination of the emotions resulting from the final event. On the basis of the two novels I’ve read by Clare Chambers, I will definitely be reading others from her backlist.

Review of APRONS AND MOCCASINS by Anne Burchat

 3.5 Stars

Full Disclosure: I’ve known the author since high school so we’ve been friends for over 50 years. I must also add that I’m not an expert on literature for young people.

Lena and Chenoa are two young girls approaching adolescence. Lena has Kashubian heritage, with ancestry traced to northwestern Poland, and Chenoa is an Algonquin, an Indigenous people  traditionally residing in the Great Lakes and St. Lawrence River region of North America. As the two become friends, they discover that, though their backgrounds seem very different, their cultures share many similarities.

It is these similarities that impressed me. Having Kashubian ancestors, I’m familiar with the embroidery and actually own a few pieces, but I had never considered how it is similar with Indigenous beadwork. Lena explains the colours and their meaning as used in traditional Kashubian embroidery, and Chenoa does the same with the colours used for the four directions of the medicine wheel. And there are other comparisons such as sweetgrass and incense.

I like that the girls emerge as distinct personalities. At the beginning, Lena describes Chenoa as being brave enough to try almost everything. And this appraisal is proven correct in Chenoa’s behaviour: fearless, she’s the one who climbs higher and swims faster. Lena is less adventurous. What they share is a love of nature and an interest in their own cultures and that of others.

I think the book would appeal to middle school girls and could be used by teachers or guide leaders. After reading about the stitches used by Lena and Chenoa, girls could have demonstrations in embroidery and beading by people skilled in these types of handwork. Or better yet, allow girls to try both for themselves. The book could be used as an introduction to cultural comparisons. After noting the similarities Lena and Chenoa find between their diverse heritages, students could be asked to look for similarities between their own heritages with those of another person. Other simple exercises could be devised: the two girls discuss the meanings of their names so why not have students explore the meanings and derivations of their names?

And there’s a serious theme that deserves attention. Lena outlines how her ancestors left Prussia in the late 1800s and were granted a plot of land by the Canadian government. On the other hand, Chenoa mentions that the Algonquins have lived on the land for twelve thousand years and though they never signed a treaty, the government claimed their land. Lena has an epiphany: “’We are living on the land of your people. This is not right.’” What a great opening for a meaningful discussion of our history.

I wish the book had more photos of embroidery and beading to help readers visualize and better understand what is being described since not everyone will have familiarity with such handwork. I also did find that sometimes the girls’ dialogue feels unnaturally formal with a lot of exposition. Regardless, this book has much to offer.

Review of SECOND BEST by David Foenkinos

 3.5 Stars

This book has a very interesting premise. It imagines the fate of a fictional 10-year-old boy, Martin Hill, whose life is shaped forever when he loses out to Daniel Radcliffe for the role of Harry Potter in the film versions of the books. Devastated, Martin tries to move on with his life but he can’t escape his feelings of failure.

The book opens with background on Martin’s parents and how he was invited to audition for the role because of his physical resemblance to the character. Then we see him grow from a young teen to a man in his thirties, always struggling with not being the chosen one and being, instead, second best.

Initially I had sympathy for Martin. As soon as the audition invitation is issued, “Martin was looking far off into the future, in terms of the possible consequences of his success.” And he becomes very connected to the character: “Martin was . . . good at imagining something better, good at dreaming about his life instead of living it. No wonder he felt so connected to Harry Potter; he had inherited a sort of incompatibility with reality, an ease with the world of the imaginary.” He is unprepared for the rejection: “Human life can perhaps be summarised as a constant trial through disillusionment, which culminates in a successful, or unsuccessful, way of managing pain. But at the time, Martin was just eleven years old. It was insurmountable. The promise of a marvellous adventure had just been ripped away from him.” And of course, “Soon, there would be no corner of the planet which wouldn’t remind him of this erasing of his destiny.”

My problem is that Martin, for decades, is unable to move on. He is offered help, but he doesn’t take it. “His disappointment at least had the merit of remaining secret,” and he refuses to discuss his failure with anyone. His self-pitying whining goes on and on and becomes so annoying. He does achieve a level of success yet he sees his life only as a failure. He sees the world as a hostile place and so protects himself with solitude. He does meet others who have also found themselves placing second and those stories give him solace, but after a while he reverts to his old behaviours. His lack of growth left me feeling frustrated with him.

In some ways, this book reminded me of another of David Foenkinos’ books, The Mystery of Henri Pick, which also explores how recognition and fame affect people and how people deal with a lack of recognition. I enjoyed the writing style. There are many tangents like the story of Pete Best who is remembered as the man who had almost been a Beatle and a synopsis of the life of J. K. Rowling. I also enjoyed the touches of humour: Jeanne, Martin’s mother, decides to stop trying to convince her son to talk of his feelings, “And it went without saying that she no longer used a broom to sweep the apartment.”

The ending is fairly predictable. Near the beginning, there’s a comment that foreshadows the resolution: “There were, then two ways of considering the same situation.” It just takes Martin a long time to be able to see things from someone else’s perspective and, unfortunately, I found parts of his story repetitive and tedious.

Review of THE WINTER JOB by Antti Tuomainen (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This book is being described as a darkly funny crime caper and, as marketed, it does indeed remind me of the Coen Brothers’ black comedy crime film Fargo. This is not a genre I read often but this novel has its moments.

Christmas 1982 is approaching. Ilmari Nieminen wants to give his daughter a piano as a Christmas gift, but he has no money. Desperate, he takes a job to transport a valuable antique sofa from Helsinki to Kilpisjärvi, the northernmost town in Finland. By chance, he meets a childhood friend, Antero Kuikka, who repairs the wipers on the old, not totally road-worthy van Ilmari is driving on the condition he be able to travel north with him. The two set off but soon discover that they are being followed by a man in a Saab 96 and a couple in an egg-yolk-yellow Lada who are all intent on taking the sofa. Of course, it turns out that Ilmari and Antero are transporting more than a sofa.

The point of view shifts among the occupants of the three vehicles. Ilmari and Antero, as they travel in a light-blue British van, reconnect after not having seen each other for over two decades. In the Lada are two communists, Anneli Kukkorinne and Erkki Liljalampi, who want to steal the sofa to sell it and use the proceeds to promote their cause. The two have worked many missions together but Anneli starts to suspect that her partner may not be totally committed. In the Saab is Otto Puolanka, a psychopath who made me think of Anton Chigurh in the Coens’ film No Country for Old Men. His chapters always open with his thoughts about the place through which he is travelling, thoughts which indicate his personality: “Pitäjänmäki was like a massive fanny: dark, slippery and a mystery to mankind” and “Sparsely populated areas were like parts of the body suffering from an advanced sexually transmitted disease: all sensation had died long ago.”

Readers who enjoy crime capers will find the characteristic elements. There’s generally a light-hearted tone, though there are violent scenes. The fate of Salminen would certainly be appropriate in a Coen Brothers’ film. There’s a misfit crew. Ilmari and Antero are an odd couple but so are Anneli and Erkki. And, of course, things do not go as planned for anyone and these misadventures lead to both tension and humour.

I’m not a fan of physical comedy. There are funny scenes, but for me it’s the more subtle humour that appeals. There are statements like “the Lada’s front tyre met its Soviet maker” and “seeing the sofa in the back of the van was like stumbling upon the Koh-I-Noor diamond in a sweaty changing room.” I enjoyed the music references and the discussions of the soap opera Dallas.

But there are also poignant moments. Ilmari and Antero do have some conversations about family, friendship, and trust. The journey becomes a journey of self-discovery; someone he encounters even tells Ilmari, “’I hope the journey has given you guidance in more than just a geographical sense.’” Ilmari, for instance, admits to how his behaviour led to the breakup of his marriage. Even Anneli comes to see things from a different perspective. And I love the ending: “It was time for a new song.”

This is not the type of book I would ordinarily read, but it will definitely appeal to readers who enjoy a blending of dark humour, suspense, and poignant reflection.

Review of BLACK AS DEATH by Lilja Sigurđardóttir (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This is the fifth installment in the Áróra Investigation series. It is being marketed as the finale since it provides answers to what happened to Áróra’s sister Ísafold.

In the previous book, Dark as Night, Ísafold’s body was discovered as well as that of Björn, the man who was suspected of killing her. Of course the circumstances of her sister’s death continue to haunt Áróra, especially after she learns a detail the police have not made public. As the police continue to investigate the murders, Áróra works on a potential money-laundering case by Kaffikó, an Icelandic coffee chain. It does not take long for the reader to realize that there is a connection between the two cases.

Interspersed throughout the chapters set in the present are flashbacks from Ísafold’s point of view. She describes her life with Björn, her abusive boyfriend. Blinded by love, she finds herself trapped in a life of violence and abuse she chooses not to escape. These sections are very difficult to read because the reader knows her fate. She is offered help and opportunities to escape, but she doesn’t take them, believing that “Everyone had their selfish reasons for everything. Friendship was never just friendship.” It is difficult to comprehend that it takes her so long to see the truth about Björn: “What had been staring her in the face all along, and she’d half chosen to ignore, was now clear as day.” Unfortunately, the situation described is very realistic. Björn exhibits a 3-stage behavioral pattern typical of abusers: a honeymoon phase, tension building, and a violent incident. Then there’s remorse and a promise to change which instills hope.

I know little of the Icelandic justice system but was astonished that a man who admits to a mutilation is set free. Though an investigation continues, he is led to believe only minor charges will result. He knows that “In other countries he would be in prison, on remand, while the police took their time searching for evidence against him.” Is this true? As a Canadian, I was also disturbed to read that photos of people taken when they enter Canada are not used to compare them to their passport photograph but to “’compare them with a list of photographs of wanted people, to check whether the individual is a known terrorist or criminal.’” The CBSA site clearly states that identity confirmation is the purpose of airport photos.

At the end, the circumstances of Ísafold’s death are explained. There is a sense of closure for Áróra because she learns the truth: “for the first time since she received the fateful phone call when her mother told her that her sister had disappeared, Áróra felt able to breathe fully, deep down into the bottom of her lungs, so that the oxygen flowed through her veins, to her muscles and her heart. She was free.”

For the reader, however, the ending is somewhat open-ended. I’ve enjoyed the company of Helena, Sirri, Bisi, and Lady Gúgúlú, but their stories are just dropped. All make an appearance in the novel, but I found myself wanting more. And then, of course, there’s Daníel!?

Those who have followed the series will certainly want to read this book. Those who haven’t should begin with Cold as Hell, and continue with Red as Blood, White as Snow, and Dark as Night before reading Black as Death.

Review of TETHERED SPIRITS: WIAQTAQNE'WASULTIJIK NA KJIJAQMIJINAQ by Corinne Hoebers (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This historical fiction book is set near Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, in the mid-1700s.

Christian Heber, the son of German settlers, is taken in by a Mi’kmaw family and renamed Bear Cub. He immerses himself in their culture, learns their language, and develops a deep bond with them, especially his “brother” Eagle Feather, and “sister” Singing Sparrow. Meanwhile his sister Hanna befriends a Mi’kmaw man and begins to question the settlers’ ownership of the land they are claiming as they build on it. Her sister Elizabeth and father Michael see the Mi’kmaq as savages who need to be removed.

Christian/Bear Cub has a conflict: he is torn between two families and cultures. He feels obligated to his birth family, but he has come to love and respect his Mi’kmaw family. Obviously, he disagrees with Michael’s views of the Indigenous Peoples though he does feel duty-bound to help his father on his farm. It is the way of life of the Mi’kmaq that appeals to Bear Cub: living off the land following the cycles of the seasons and taking only what they need to survive. Theirs is a cooperative society in which all life is interdependent. The newcomers, on the other hand, “allowed fear to rule, avarice to prosper, and biased assumptions to sprout.”

A major theme is indicated by the title. When leaving his sister Hanna, Christian tells her that, though they may be far from each other, “’the tether is never severed, only stretched.’” Later when they speak again, he tells her, “’We cannot sever that which we are all born with – spirit. Everybody and everything are one.’” And adds that “’A love must be secure enough to allow the freedom to change.’”

And change is another theme. Bear Cub is told that, “’Nothing is constant. It is the present form that changes.’” Morning Dove, Singing Sparrow’s mother, teaches her daughter that “’we are always in a state of fluidity as we move through life, adapting to whatever falls across our path.’” Morning Dove repeats this message to her husband: “’To survive, we must adapt to life’s challenges and transformations.’”

Knowing the fate of the Mi’kmaq, I found the book very sad. They try to adapt to the newcomers, but the settlers carry on without concern for the original peoples: “’All regulated and named under British specifications. All this has happened as if the Mi’kmaq not exit.’” As settlements expand, the Mi’kmaq are displaced and forced to retreat: “the New Englanders continued to fish exorbitantly for profit. With the animal migrations changing and shrinking, the past Winter had seen times of malnutrition, starvation, and disease in several communities.” Christian tries to convince his father Michael to see that the settlers are repeating the tyranny they tried to escape: “’Eugen, devoid of any respect, rode roughshod over us with no thought of our worthiness, and now the Mi’kmaw territories are being confiscated by the same government you have put all your hopes into. Their lives are slowly being snuffed out by our greed, as we cut off their sustenance, river by river.’”

I did find the book rather wordy. I admire the author’s research, but sometimes too much extraneous information is given. These information dumps make the book read like a history text. For instance, when Singing Sparrow is working on porcupine quillwork, we are told, “Goldthread for the colour yellow, elderberries for black, the bark of dogwood for blue, and bayberry and larkspur for green. There was orange dye still left over from the bloodroot that had been harvested in the Spring, and brown from acorns.” Battles are detailed: “’The British began bombarding us. The Bienfaisant was captured and the Prudent burned. Just a week before our surrender, three of our ships caught fire. Then the fortress headquarters burned. Drucour surrendered on July twenty-sixth.’” The following sounds like a history lesson: “Quebec, the capital of New France, had fallen on September thirteenth. Both the British and French commanders-in-chief, Generals James Wolfe and Louis-Joseph de Montcalm, had died in battle.” Do we really need to be told that the blade in the sawmill sawed “at a hundred and fifty strokes a minute”? The many political discussions are just tedious.

Though I’m posting my review later, I actually finished this book on September 30, Canada’s National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. Though this book does not directly address residential schools, it does shine a light on how the lives of Indigenous Peoples were negatively impacted by the arrival of Europeans and so is a worthy read.

Note: I gather that this book is actually a sort of sequel to Call of a Distant Shore which tells the story of Elizabeth and her family and their emigration to Canada.

Review of DEADMAN'S POOL by Kate Rhodes (New Release)

 4 Stars

Though this is my first book by this author, I’ve learned that this is actually the eighth book in the Isles of Scilly Mysteries.

DI Ben Kitto unearths the body of a young Vietnamese girl buried near ruins on the island of St Helen’s. With no connection to anyone on the “tiny archipelago with less than two thousand souls,” Ben suspects that she may have been the victim of human trafficking. As Ben and his team investigate and try to find the person responsible, they come to believe that there may be another girl being held captive somewhere, so locating her adds extra urgency.

Most of the novel focuses on Ben’s perspective. The reader follows the investigation from his point of view and sees his struggles: foul weather, an antagonistic supervisor, and people keeping secrets. We also learn about Ben’s home life with his wife Nina and their one-year-old son Noah. Though there are some tensions, it is home that provides Ben with stability and a respite from his work. His love for Nina and Noah is very evident.

There are also brief interludes from the point of view of Mai, a sixteen-year-old Vietnamese girl who has been held captive by a man for six years. She has recently given birth to a son Lao whom the man has taken away. I found her sections a harrowing read though her descriptions of all she has endured ensure that the reader becomes invested in her fate. She emerges as an amazingly strong person. Her parents taught her about kien, a word meaning “strength and resilience, the ability to survive disasters” and she certainly proves to possess those traits. In the end what is also impressive is her choice to put the protection of others ahead of her own safety.

Not having encountered Ben before, I enjoyed learning about him. He’s obviously intelligent and skilled at his job, but what stands out is his determination; “I need to know exactly what happened or her image will stain my memory forever.” He admits that he likes to do things at his own pace, but it’s clear that he will let nothing stand in his way. His boss is demanding and not especially supportive, but Ben perseveres. When he needs to question the islands’ power holders, he doesn’t hesitate. I also appreciated Ben’s comment about his “blunt communication style.”

The book has the reader playing detective along with Ben and his team. Because we are given Mai’s perspective, we know a bit about the perpetrator (such as his claim that music gives his life balance) and the type of place where she is being held captive, so as each man is questioned and his property searched, I asked myself whether he could be the one holding Mai captive. Of course there are several men whose musical interests are mentioned and almost everyone has an old shed or cellar or access to an abandoned building that could serve as a hiding spot. Several men behave suspiciously but then they have seemingly credible explanations. Teenagers spread rumours about a cabal of influential people involved in human trafficking. So there are many potential suspects. About three-quarters of the way through the novel, I had strong suspicions - which proved to be correct - but I wasn’t convinced and was strongly motivated to continue to the end. I appreciate when an author follows the fair play doctrine.

The book is a page turner. With the discovery of the body at the beginning, my interest was captured and it never waned thereafter. I was concerned for Mai’s fate as soon as she was introduced, but suspense ramped up when the case takes a personal turn for Ben and there really is a race against time.

I love touring islands. I love Canada’s Les Îles-de-la-Madeleine; Croatia’s islands such as Pag, Krk, and Korčula; Ireland’s Inis Mór and Skellig Michael; Holland’s Texel; Scotland’s Skye and Iona; and Denmark’s Faroe Islands. The author paints such a vivid picture of the Isles of Scilly and their sense of community that they have been added to my bucket list of places to visit.

I will have to backtrack and read the first seven Isles of Scilly books when time allows, but I will definitely read any books that continue the series.

Review of THE HOWLING by Michael J. Malone (New Release)

 3 Stars

This is the third in the Annie Jackson Mystery series after The Murmurs and The Torments.

Annie and her brother Lewis search for the long-lost son of Sylvia Lowry-Law because Sylvia says that finding him will help end Annie’s curse. (Like other female ancestors, Annie hears murmurs accompanied by shocking visions of the imminent deaths of people she encounters. The horror of these visions is intensified because there is nothing she can do to prevent the deaths.) Annie and Lewis’ investigations lead to an ancient and secretive organization, The Order, which has information which could destroy the lives and reputations of many powerful people who will do anything to protect their secrets and wealth.

I must preface my review by stating that I’m not a fan of gothic literature, the horror genre or supernatural thrillers, so I’m not the intended audience for this book. I have difficulty suspending disbelief since I do not believe in curses, hexes, or animal possession. And the idea of any of those things being passed on through generations, like hereditary traits, I find unbelievable.

Specifically in this book, I had difficulty believing in The Order whose machinations are described as mind-boggling with plans that run for years, decades, and even centuries. I understand powerful people wanting to suppress damaging information (Epstein Files), but the idea that people will put schemes into place that will outlive them is too far-fetched for me. There are also the elements of Satanic worship (goat’s head, inverted cross) which are never explained. Is The Order a Satanic cult?

The novel does emphasize that the past cannot be escaped. So many of the characters are directly affected by people and events in the past. In the first two books, the connections among females in a familial lineage are stressed; now males are also shown to share supernatural traits with ancestors. For instance, Drew shares a connection with a boy named Andra who lived in the early 18^th century. I found Andra’s chapters lacking in suspense because it’s clear from the beginning what will happen.

There are some plot holes which bother me. Why would Joan Torrans help two strangers who show up at her door and even take them to the law office? The police are so inept and/or understaffed that they don’t investigate suspicious deaths and accidents? Everyone accepts Annie’s curse without question, as if magic or the occult or supernatural powers are an everyday part of life? How do Annie and Lewis learn Drew’s name? And they seem to jump to the conclusion that a certain person is the mastermind behind what is happening. Just because they pick up a random file which names this person, they assume he’s the leader? Why would Annie’s murmurs be affected by her not being able to see and how would someone know they would be if she doesn’t? We are to believe that Lewis loves Clare, but he seems to almost forget about her during much of the investigation even when she should be a constant worry?

I’m surely an outlier here. I’ve read only rave reviews of this book. As I mentioned at the beginning, I’m not a lover of books with strong gothic, horror or supernatural elements. Those who like those genres will find a lot to enjoy: witchcraft, animal possession, lost and secret family, eerie and dark settings, threats against vulnerable characters, overtones of the occult, etc. It is to those readers that I will recommend this book.

Review of WHAT WE CAN KNOW by Ian McEwan (New Release)

 4.5 Stars

This book has been described as speculative fiction, social commentary, and a literary detective story. Regardless of how it’s classified, if it’s written by Ian McEwan, I know it’ll be worth reading.

There are dual timelines just over a century apart. In 2014 at his wife Vivian’s birthday dinner attended by a few friends, renowned poet Francis Blundy reads aloud a sequence of 15 sonnets, a corona, he wrote for her. The poem is never published; Vivian is given the only copy. For generations people have speculated about this corona, a copy of which has never been found, but it is generally regarded as the great lost poem of the climate crisis.

In 2119, in the aftermath of a hydrogen bomb disaster in 2042, much of the western world has been submerged by rising seas and Britain is now an archipelago. In the south of what used to be England, Thomas Metcalfe, a humanities scholar, has dedicated himself to finding “A Corona for Vivian.” He pores over print and digital archives and considers himself an expert on the lives of Francis and Vivian Blundy: “I know all that they knew – and more, for I know some of their secrets and their futures, and the dates of their deaths.” When led to a site which he believes is the hiding spot for the corona, he uncovers a truth he had not expected.

This first part of the novel is narrated by Thomas in the first person. He makes clear that he is captivated by Vivian, so much so that his relationship with his partner Rose is affected. Besides his obsession with the poem, he has an almost obsessive nostalgia for Francis and Vivian’s time period which is, of course, our era: “The Blundys and their guests lived in what we would regard as a paradise. There were more flowers, trees, insects, birds and mammals in the wild . . . The wines . . . were superior to ours, their food was certainly more delicious and varied and came from all over the world. The air they breathed was purer and less radioactive. Their medical services . . . were better resourced and organized.”

It is this re-creation of our era as seen from a dystopian future which I found very interesting. Thomas summarizes our time: “What brilliant invention and bone-headed greed. . . . people flying 2,000 miles for a one-week vacation . . . razing ancient forests to make paper to wipe their backsides . . . they watched amazed as the decades sped by and . . . the weapons proliferated and they did little, even as they knew what was coming and what was needed.” The term Derangement is used, “a shorthand for the usual list of global heating’s consequences . . . [but the term also hints] at collective responsibility for our innate cognitive bias in favour of short-term comfort over long-term benefits. Humanity itself was deranged.” Thomas also comments that in that past, “many of humanity’s problems would have been solved. When too few understood how sublime their natural and man-made worlds were.” Rose argues that Thomas ignores the past’s “squalor and cruelty and morbid greed” and lists a litany of problems with our behaviour: “The stupidity and waste . . . the nastiness of social media, then run for profit rather than as a public service . . . the self-serving short-sightedness or plain folly or mendacity or viciousness of political leaders . . . the quiescence or craven idiocy or terror of their populations . . . people’s careless love of autocrats . . . the poisons they left in the oceans, the forests they stole, the soils and rivers they ruined and the Derangement they acknowledged but would not prevent.” The message for us is abundantly clear.

As the title suggests, the novel asks what we can really know. Thomas is convinced of his knowledge based on his perusal of journals and letters and the digital data such as emails and texts. In fact, he feels burdened by the amount of research material at his disposal: “three million internet mentions of Francis Blundy in his lifetime, the 219,000 messages that were written to him and by him and the near-infinite references since.” When writing about the Blundys and the corona, especially the birthday dinner, Thomas decides it is acceptable “where the source material did not exist . . . to make educated guesses about the subjective states and lines of thought of people who had died a hundred years ago. . . . When faced with the essential but undisclosed inner life, invent within the confines of the probable.” He regards it “an essential freedom to speculate, infer, make educated guesses and animate circumstances and states of mind with the reasonable projection of a common humanity unchanged across the intervening century” because his duty “is to vitality, to convey the experience of lived and felt life.” Rose, on the other hand, disagrees and argues that Thomas’ “only duty is to the truth . . . whereof you do not know, therof you must be silent.”

Vivian is the narrator in the second part and what she reveals suggests that there are boundaries to our understanding; in fact, we can know very little. Random details and records, even personal ones, may not tell the entire story. I keep a journal but can I really say that it’s unbiased or that I haven’t lied by omission? Trying to extrapolate motives, feelings, the full truth, from a series of disparate sources may mean that we are like Francis: our certitude may suggest brilliance but actually indicates our foolishness. The next time I read a biography, I will remember McEwan’s caveat.

There is so much in this book, so much I could parse. There’s the complex characterization where everyone has both positive and negative traits, and there’s more nuance to characters than initially shown. In the end I found no one really likeable, but that’s okay. There’s humour: “inter-racial marriage increased to the extent that within a mere three or four generations, the descendants of many whites have realised the old sunbathers’ dream.” And there are more ideas explored that I haven’t even touched on. In other words, this is another Ian McEwan masterpiece.

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

Review of THE KILLING STONES by Ann Cleeves (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

Those familiar with Detective Jimmy Perez of the Shetland series will be happy for his reemergence, this time in Orkney.

Jimmy has settled in Orkney with his partner, Chief Inspector Willow Reeves, and their growing family. One stormy night near Christmas, his oldest friend, Archie Stout, goes missing on Westray. Jimmy travels to the island and finds his friend’s body near an archaeological dig site. He was killed by one of the ancient Westray story stones. Jimmy finds himself in a difficult position; he needs to investigate because assistance from Glasgow is not forthcoming, but he has to emotionally detach while grieving the loss of his close friend and to maintain objectivity while questioning people he knows to determine if they could be potential suspects. Though officially on maternity leave, Willow steps in to assist and the two work together to solve Archie’s murder. But his killing is not the last.

Jimmy is the Jimmy I remember from the Shetland series. He is intelligent, sensitive and empathetic, while still harbouring insecurities. Willow describes him well: “An investigation would never be work for him. It was a personal crusade, even if he’d never met the victim” and “He often had too much compassion, too much empathy” so “his sympathy seemed to be channelled towards the victims, the relatives and even the perpetrators of crime.” Despite his skills as an investigator, he is sometimes plagued by “the old fear of incompetence.” He admits, however, that he is learning that “he couldn’t save the world.” Jimmy and Willow make a great team because she keeps him grounded.

There are several suspects, though I suspected from the beginning that the perpetrator would be someone not really considered during the investigation. The book is not action-packed; it’s not so much a page-turner as a plodding police procedural. There is, in fact, not a lot of suspense; an occurrence during the Kirkwall Ba’ Game does provide some tension, but it seems almost contrived. There’s not even any waiting for forensic evidence; Jimmy and Willow just interview people to determine who might have a motive.

I didn’t find the resolution particularly satisfying. The motive, when it is revealed, is a total surprise because there have been no hints. Looking back, one can find oblique hints such as the repetition of what mattered most to Archie, but the reason for his being killed comes from left field. The personality of the second victim is likewise not highlighted in a way that would be particularly helpful in suggesting a reason for his death. At the end, there needs to be a lot of explanation of exactly what happened; this is an indication of a lack of fair play on the author’s part.

As in Cleeves’ Shetland series, the reader is transported to another set of wild and remote islands. The descriptions are wonderful, not just of the physical setting but also of the customs and history. For instance, I found myself researching more about the Kirkwall Ba’ Game. Having visited Neolithic sites in Ireland and Portugal and Viking sites in Iceland and the Faroe Islands, I was intrigued by references to the Standing Stones of Stenness, the Maeshowe passage grave, and the Ring of Brodgar, places which are significant in the plot. Orkney has been added to my list of must-visit places.

That being said, a map of Orkney with its main islands and main towns would have been helpful. Willow and Jimmy travel primarily between Kirkwall on Mainland and Pierowall on Westray, but Willow also takes a plane to North Ronaldsay and drives the Churchill Barriers which take her across Lamb Holm to South Ronaldsay. A map would certainly help the reader visualize the archipelago.

I cannot say that this is my favourite book featuring Jimmy Perez, but if this is the beginning of a second series featuring him, I will keep reading.

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