Review of A MOTHER'S LOVE by Sara Blædel (New Release)

 3 Stars

When I requested an advance reading copy of this book, I was unaware that it is in fact the eleventh book in the Louise Rick / Camilla Lind series. Fortunately, though I was obviously missing information about previous events in the characters’ personal lives, there is sufficient explanation that the novel can be read as a standalone.

Dorthe, a widowed innkeeper, is found murdered. In the course of the investigation into her death, a search of the inn reveals a concealed nursery in which a child obviously lived. Since Dorthe was childless, who is the child and where is s/he? The search for a murderer also becomes a search for a child whose identity is unknown.

The investigation is lead by Detective Louise Rick, head of the recently created Mobile Task Unit charged with assisting with difficult cases across Denmark. Besides having to work with a hastily cobbled together team of officers she has never met, Louise finds herself having to work with Eik, her ex-fiancé. Louise does receive help from her friend, crime reporter Camilla Lind.

I had difficulty understanding the relationship between Louise and Camilla, though the suggestion is that they are best friends. In this novel, they have little interaction other than phone calls and texts. When they do communicate, Louise is brusque and churlish. Though Camilla repeats that she is taking a break from work, Louise insists she do some research for her. After demanding her help, Louise later rudely snaps at Camilla, accusing her of pumping her for information about the investigation.

There are a lot of twists in the plot to keep the reader entertained. I did find, however, that the events in the church at the end seem to have been included just to add suspense by prolonging the conclusion. Those events are not only unnecessary but also far-fetched. The suicide of a troubled individual is understandable but the other actions taken by that person make little sense.

There are other things that make no sense. How can two people (a killer and a victim) leave the same location at the same time and both arrive at a second location at the same time when the killer stops en route to pick up the murder weapon? How can someone who is hiding a young child in his/her house be absent for extended periods from home? There is no suggestion of that child being drugged. At one point Louise “went to join [Melvin and Jonas] in the living room” though Melvin had left for his own apartment and Jonas “disappeared into his room”? Then there’s the fact that the investigation is in a small town where it’s usual for people to know a lot about each others’ activities, yet there are so many secrets and secret locations? The number of evil characters totally lacking in humanity also requires some suspension of disbelief.

Despite the twists, I identified the murderer early on. There’s the title, of course, and then a definite focus on a subplot – both clues that a regular reader of crime fiction cannot miss.

This is an entertaining though not exceptional book because of the plot holes. Readers who have followed the series from the beginning may be interested in the developments in Louise and Camilla’s personal lives.

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

Review of 33 PLACE BRUGMANN by Alice Austen (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This novel, set during World War II, focuses on the residents of an apartment building in Brussels. They are a diverse group of people of different ages and from different backgrounds. There’s a Jewish family, the Raphaëls, who disappear one night, leaving everything behind but their valuable art collection. There’s a Russian immigrant and a widowed war veteran. There are a number of students, including Charlotte, a colour-blind art student. There are professionals: an architect, an art dealer, an attorney, and a notary. There’s a nosy busybody. Once the Nazis occupy the city and life becomes more difficult with restrictions on movement and food rationing, each resident must choose whether to submit to the regime or resist. Some people make sacrifices and endanger themselves to save others and some people betray others to save themselves.

There are multiple points of view. At least one person from each apartment provides his/her perspective. This narrative technique provides an opportunity for the reader to encounter the thoughts of the best and worst of people, both heroes and cowards. Though they are not narrators, the Nazis are also represented, and even there, we see differences – a Nazi officer who shows compassion more than once and a collaborator who shows none to either human or animal.

There’s a disjointed feeling to the novel because of the constant shifts between so many narrators. What also affects the narrative flow is the insertion of dreams and visions, sometimes in stream-of-consciousness passages. Charlotte, for instance, at the beginning of the novel sees that “blood is seeping out under [the massive church doors], too, flowing from the church and flooding the square. Blood is everywhere. The passersby wade through blood, and it spatters their pant legs and skirts, but they take no notice.” This vision obviously symbolically foreshadows what is to come, but others are less clear.

What is also less clear is the philosophical musings. There are repeated references to Wittgenstein and I found these less than interesting. Charlotte dislikes Wittgenstein’s writings and comments, “I’d rather read a magical book with the illusion of a beginning and an end. Not pithy little bursts that force me to consider every damn sentence.” When encountering another discussion of Wittgenstein’s philosophy, I found myself agreeing with Charlotte.

Charlotte is a central figure in the novel. Her point of view is included several times, and it is her life that provides considerable action to the plot; she’s involved in the romance story and the most suspenseful scenes. Unfortunately, I found it difficult to relate to her. Others speak so highly of her, but I found it difficult to grasp her personality. For me, she remains an indistinct character, always hazy and lacking definition.

There are quite a few coincidences which troubled me. Julian’s arrival at Herman’s apartment stretches credibility. And then there are the connections among Dirk and Putzeis and the Gorilla and Masha.

I have read quite a bit of historical fiction set during World War II, but I believe this is the first set in Brussels, so I learned a great deal from this book. I learned about the VNV, the Flemish nationalist party which became the leading force of political collaboration in Flanders during the German occupation of Belgium. I also learned about the 1943 solo bombing of the Nazi headquarters in Brussels by Jean de Selys Longchamps.

Though there are elements of the book I did not enjoy, it does offer a look at how Nazi occupation affected ordinary people whose survival was threatened in many different ways. It also inspires the reader to consider how s/he would react in similar circumstances. Would one choose submission or resistance? Some statements certainly made me draw parallels with current events in the US: “When we stop trying to understand how others see the world, when we lose our compassion, our empathy, we become animals. Worse than animals” and “Elected. The meaning of the word has changed for me since [the election of Hitler]. Or else my understanding of my fellow humans’ basic intelligence has changed. I don’t know if it will come to shooting, but I know it might.”

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

Review of THE IMMORTAL WOMAN by Su Chang (New Release)

 4 Stars

This multi-generational story weaves the personal stories of women with historical events and emphasizes the power of “the ghosts of the past.”

In 1960s Shanghai, Lemai reluctantly becomes a student Red Guard leader and eventually a journalist with a state newspaper. Events during the Tiananmen Square protests cause her to lose faith in her country so she raises her daughter Lin to aim for a life in the West. Years later, Lin arrives in North America but struggles with identity and finding her place in the world.

Mother-daughter relationships are a focus. The one between Lemai and Lin is certainly complicated. Because Lemai’s experiences as a young woman are detailed, we understand her motivations, especially in raising Lin to aspire for a life in the West. Because Lin’s experiences in the West are detailed, we understand her struggles: she wants to fulfill her mother’s dream but she has her own ambitions. What is impressive is that the author manages to elicit in the reader both sympathy for and frustration with both women.

It is Lin’s experiences with which I most identified. She identifies herself as “the executor of Ma’s Grand Plan” and “thanks to [her mother’s] years of gospel-like teaching,” Lin “spent her entire formative years admiring, romanticizing, worshipping those [white] faces.” In the West, however, she ends up unhappy and suffering from the equivalent of a colonial mentality with “a bruising inferiority complex, a decimated self.”

Lemai imagines a perfect life for her daughter, like the one she imagines for her friend Wei who left for the West years earlier: “She had imagined her lifestyle: lunches with American co-workers, shopping sprees at luxury brands, vacations on white-sand beaches by the undulating sea. . . . Lemai was sure her friend could switch between cultures effortlessly, like slipping in and out of different outfits.” Lemai believes the propagandizing about “the Melting Pot in action; ah, the harmonious coexistence; ah, the nation unparalleled in its embrace of immigrants.” Lin discovers the falsity of the American dream: because her appearance differentiates her, she cannot totally assimilate into Western society and encounters both overt and subtle racism.

I appreciated the balanced portrayal of both China and the West. We see the extreme nationalism in China where the government controls the media as a propaganda weapon, and closely monitors and oppresses its people. Though Lemai thinks of the West as a paradise, she is ill-informed. Wei’s life proves to be nothing like what Lemai imagined. A classmate of Lin’s comments, “’You turn on the TV every morning and see the clowns talking, the cults and fake gods, the obscene rich and abject poor, the school carnage . . . this is supposed to be the pinnacle of human civilization?’”

The novel focuses on women’s experiences. Men in both parts of the world do not emerge as admirable characters. Men in both China and the West abandon their wives and children. And they enjoy wielding power over women, some physically but many psychologically. Men are either cowardly or manipulative while women may be quieter but are definitely stronger.

Parts of the novel are dense with politics. My lack of knowledge about Chinese history meant that some sections were tedious and I struggled to understand. Fortunately, there is sufficient explanation that I didn’t get totally lost. There are also cultural references which I had to research: I was not familiar with terms like hukou, baijiu, iron rice bowl, and hanfu. On the other hand, I completely understood the commentary about American society, comments which I found particularly relevant because of current events.

This is a worthwhile read although readers should be forewarned about the novel’s serious tone. There are few light-hearted moments, though the ending, with its emphasis on proudly embracing one’s heritage, is satisfying. Su Chang is definitely a Canadian writer to follow.

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

Review of SMALL FIRES by Ronnie Turner (New Release)

 4 Stars

Though gothic fiction is not my genre of choice, I really enjoyed Ronnie Turner’s So Pretty (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2023/01/review-of-so-pretty-by-ronnie-turner.html) so was excited to read her next offering. Small Fires I would classify as folklore gothic, combining elements of traditional folklore with classic gothic tropes.

Della and Lily Pedley, suspected of murdering their parents, flee Cornwall in southern England to an island in Scotland known only as The God-Forgotten. Strange events occur on the isolated island and people avoid travelling to it because “bitterness runs through the land like poison in blood.” The Folk on the island seem drawn to Della whereas Lily becomes friends with Silas, the publican, and Kit, a visiting geologist. Silas and Kit are different from the rest of the islanders; they don’t seem to live with the same fear that permeates every aspect of the lives of the Folk. Lily is curious and becomes interested in the local stories, especially those about the Warden that the Folk always try to appease. It is soon obvious that “’stories are never simply stories.’”

The island is very much a character in the novel. The opening sentence is “They say the Devil came here.” When the sisters arrive, Lily comments on the silence over the land and the dark mountain casting shadows; she even thinks “This land smells of death.” Kit speaks of the island having “’So much history. All of it bad.’” What is emphasized is that the island is full of legends; Silas, who was born on the island and has lived there all his life, thinks of it as a godless place “Where nothing but stories grow.”

And the inhabitants are a strange lot; they have a religion about the Devil whom they call the Warden; they are variously described as mad and deluded but what stands out is their fear. Kit comments that they live in constant fear because of their beliefs about the Warden which are passed down via their old, ominous legends: “’I’m not saying I don’t think there is something rotten here. There is. But it’s something these people have grown themselves.’” Later, she states, “’There is no illness like the illness of the mind. They think they have a devil. I think they have groomed themselves into a delusion.’” Is Kit correct or is there evil on the island?

The narrative alternates between two perspectives – that of Lily in first person and that of Silas in third person. Whenever there’s a reliance on first person narration, I always question whether the narrator is reliable. For instance, because Lily definitely portrays her sister in a negative light, I kept wanting Della’s point of view. Can Lily be trusted if children react to her with “such fear in their unblemished faces” and her own mother called her Little Wolf? Can Lily be innocent if she admits “We murdered our parents”? Yet Silas’s opinion of Della confirms Lily’s; when he sees Della for the first time, he describes her: “The tall one has long fingers, a thick neck inches wider than his own. A beast among men” and from Lily’s behaviour, he concludes she is frightened of Della. Certainly point of view was carefully chosen to keep the reader uncertain.

Imagery is used very purposefully and effectively. There are frequent references to bones, blood, shadows, ghosts, and animals. For instance, “The sun has not yet risen, so the bonfire is their sun, and it puts violence in the shadows and makes them all look like they have beasts inside their skins” and “the clouds are dark like blood when it dries” and “She is outside somewhere, picking through the darkness like a tick on a body” and “He has ghosts inside his eyes. Such hungry ghosts.”

I had difficulty imagining the time period of the novel. It is not until reference is made to an online article, that it’s clear this is a contemporary story. Regardless, I often pictured an earlier time. Rituals like the Tithing made me think of the short story “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson. Perhaps the vagueness of time is intentionally used to emphasize timeless themes.

The themes are about generational trauma, the power of stories, and identity. The first two are developed from the beginning. The theme of identity appears later with statements like “’Identity is a powerful thing’” and “’I don’t think you can ever know someone. We are all wearing faces to get through the world. We are all pretending, slipping on new identities’” and “’I have a different skin for every pair of eyes. Sometimes even I am confused.’”

With its constant sense of foreboding, this book is an unsettling read. As I mentioned at the beginning, gothic fiction is not a favourite for me, but this book offers more than an eerie atmosphere. It is well-written and its themes are thought-provoking.

Review of PRECIOUS CARGO by Craig Davidson

3 Stars 

Memoirs are not my genre of choice but this was a book club selection. Given its appearance on the shortlist for Canada Reads in 2018, with its theme of One Book to Open Your Eyes, I was expecting more.

Depressed and broke, Davidson took a job as a school bus driver and spent one school year driving five special-needs students. We meet Nadja, Oliver, Gavin, Vincent, and Jake and see snippets of their time on the bus during which they tell stories and jokes, tease each other, laugh together, and bond. As a result of getting to know these teenagers and seeing how society treats people viewed as disabled, he re-evaluates his life: “The physical truth is that I drove you. The deeper truth is that you drove me. Drove me to step out of my own sickened skin, to stop feeling sorry for myself and to see the world for its beauties more than its agonies.”

As I’ve already mentioned, I was wanting more from this book. In particular, I wanted more of the five students and less of the bus driver. I wanted more stories of the interactions between the driver and his passengers. Except for Jake with whom Davidson had a relationship outside his job, it is difficult to remember who is who; there is insufficient differentiation.

There is more telling than showing. Not everything has to be explained. Do we need over a page about how chemically we are all the same because every living thing starts out as carbon, nitrogen, and oxygen? And the life lessons he learns are not exactly profound: we’re all people deserving of respect despite our differences; we need to make the best of what life gives us; and life is sometimes unfair. Basically he learns to have empathy for others and to appreciate his own life.

I didn’t dislike the author, but I wasn’t overly impressed with him either. At first he was whiny and full of self-pity; I expect a writer to understand human nature and be capable of self-reflection, but that’s certainly not the case at the beginning. Then, though he did try to make the times on the school bus pleasant for all and his actions show acceptance of and respect for everyone, I detected a self-congratulatory tone for being such a good driver to these students and then expecting praise for learning rather obvious lessons about life.

What really bothered me is Davidson’s dropping out of Jake’s life. He speaks of the relationship he developed with Jake, but once the school year is over, he never sees him again? Surely both Jake and Calvin would have appreciated Davidson’s further involvement in Jake’s life. This behaviour made me question Davidson’s sincerity. Did he use the five passengers as fodder for his writing and then just abandon them once they had served their purpose?

The inclusion of excerpts from “The Seekers” serves little purpose. Yes, the unpublished novel does include the five as lead characters/heroes in a narrative, but these sections interrupt the flow of the narrative. Were it the writing of one of the gang I’d have been more interested. Davidson does say that both Vincent and Jake “could end up as writers.”

In the end, I have greater respect for school bus drivers. Given the level of their responsibilities, I think they are underpaid. Not only must they keep their passengers safe, they’re expected to understand their personalities and needs. I understand why there’s a shortage of people for those positions.

This is not a bad book, but I wanted more depth, not just surface-level life lessons, and I’d have enjoyed learning more about the precious cargo.

Review of A HOUSE FOR MISS PAULINE by Diana McCaulay (New Release)

 4 Stars

This novel focuses on a strong female protagonist, 99-year-old Pauline Sinclair, whom the reader will not soon forget.

Pauline has spent her entire life in Mason Hall, a rural Jamaican village. She believes she is not long for the world when the stones of her house begin to shift and she hears voices which she thinks are telling her “there’s atonement to be made”: “mebbe me can set tings right before ma time come.” As she considers what she must do, she reflects on her life and so the reader learns about her past. Self-educated, she raised two children with her beloved Clive and supported her family by becoming a ganja farmer. But there are secrets she has kept hidden from everyone and these are the ones she must now reveal to those she feels she has wronged. With the help of her granddaughter Justine and Lamont, a local teenager, she finds these people to make amends but also ends up discovering much she did not know.

It’s impossible not to like Pauline. Fiercely independent, she does not allow anyone to tell her how to live. She understands that many would dismiss her because she can be perceived as “Black, female, old, rural, foreign, poor, powerless, friendless, uneducated,” but she demands the respect she believes she deserves; certainly the last four adjectives do not apply to her. Even as a young girl, she was defiant and took decisive action against a predatory man, leaving a strong message: “That is for me an evry odda girl you ever put you nasty, dutty hand on.” Her life has not been easy, but she persevered and became a community builder and elder. Though not formally educated, she is very intelligent and thoughtful, reflecting on her own actions and on the legacy of slavery in Jamaica.

Though fierce and feisty, there is a softer side to Pauline. Her granddaughter thinks she shares the same hard heart as her grandmother, but Pauline counters, “’Ma heart not hard but ma spine strong. Sometime folks mix up them two tings.’” She does indeed show her heart in her interactions with others, especially in her relationship with Lamont. She sees his vulnerability behind his exterior and virtually adopts him as family. She also has a sense of humour, taking pride in her ability to be as foulmouthed as anyone: “If this man thinks he can win a swearing contest, he’s mistaken.”

The book examines the complex history of colonialism and slavery. Pauline uses stones from the old plantation mansion to build her home and then others in the village do as well. Building homes from the stones enslaved ancestors used to build the backra house is a symbolic reclamation of what was stolen from them and a proclamation that, though the white slave owner is gone, they have survived: “Backra house, the slavery ruin in the forest, where people, her people, her ancestors, toiled and died – no, were murdered – yet became a sanctuary for her.”

Pauline thinks about the meaning of land and its ownership: “Land is what bring the white people here an what mek them capture the Black people an force them clear it an plant it.” She decides that “Home . . . is the land. Not the house. The land will never turn against her.” Land for her is not a commodity; it’s the place that has shaped her identity. But to be at peace she wishes to “settle for herself the question of who owns the land on which her house sits.” Others may have ownership papers for the land but doesn’t her and her ancestors’ intimate and historical connection to the land give her some right to it?

Pauline and other characters speak in Jamaican patwa. This adds realism, but I did sometimes experience some difficulty with some words. I think listening to an audiobook version read by someone familiar with the language would be a good experience.

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

Review of NESTING by Roisín O’Donnell (New Release)

4 Stars 

Set in Dublin in 2018, this novel highlights the harsh realities of life faced by women wanting to escape from intimate partner abuse.

Ciara Fay makes a spontaneous decision to leave her psychologically abusive husband Ryan, taking her daughters, 4-year-old Sophie and 2-year-old Ella, with her. With no financial means or network of support, they end up living in a hotel room on a floor reserved for unhoused families like hers. She faces so many obstacles as she tries to make a new life for herself and her children.

The novel focuses on emotional rather than physical abuse. Thus far Ryan has never hurt her though he has coerced her to have sex. His abuse is more subtle and so more difficult to convey or prove. On the surface he is handsome and a good provider; he shows the world only his attentiveness towards his family. Ciara knows that “his kindness is a choice. A decision he makes in order to achieve an end.” In private he is totally domineering. Prone to unpredictable outbursts of anger, he targets his wife. He controls the family finances, monitors Ciara’s movements, isolates her from family and friends, and belittles her so any self-confidence is totally undermined.

Ciara faces so many obstacles. Having been financially dependent on Ryan, she has few savings to provide for herself and her children. Finding housing proves to be a never-ending search. She has no support system in Dublin and has to navigate bureaucratic red tape. Her attempts to find housing and a job are complicated by her having to look after two young children. Her discovery that she is pregnant only adds to her difficulties.

And of course there’s the emotional toll. She is disheartened, confused, and fearful. Ryan’s gaslighting has sown self-doubt in Ciara’s mind so she is often questioning her judgment and decision: Is leaving the right thing to do or should she go back as she did once before? She and other women like her come to learn that “’Leaving is one thing, but saying away is another.’” Ryan pressures her to return. Feeling she has lost herself, the only voice she hears in her mind is Ryan’s. And there’s the shame she feels because of her situation and because she placates Ryan for fear of what he might do.

I found this a very tense read because I was totally invested in the fate of Ciara and her children. Ryan is a volatile character so every encounter with Ryan is fraught with danger: how will he threaten and intimidate her? Will Ciara be able to find appropriate housing and support her family? Will she be able to overcome Ryan’s brainwashing, fight his manipulation, and find the courage to stay away?

Some of the symbolism is heavy-handed. There’s the nestling crow that Ryan brings home, supposedly to help it. Despite odds, it survives, but ends up a captive. Kept on a tether, it becomes something Ryan can control. He seems to have no real affection for it; instead, the crow becomes a source of entertainment. Obviously the crow’s life parallels Ciara’s, as does its fate at the end.

This is a disturbing but compelling read. There is no doubt that it is a realistic portrayal of the almost impossible odds a woman can face if she makes the life-altering choice to leave an abusive relationship.

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

Review of THE QUIET LIBRARIAN by Allen Eskens (New Release)

 4 Stars

Why do librarians wear cardigans? The answer often given is that sweaters cover up their superhero disguises.

The protagonist of this novel, Hana Babić, is a timid, middle-aged librarian called “The Sweater Lady” by children who frequent the library. In many ways that cardigan is indeed a disguise, one which has helped her hide “terrible secrets” and remain largely invisible. The peaceful life Hana has cultivated for 30 years comes unraveled when David Claypool, a homicide detective, arrives to inform her that her best friend Amina has died in mysterious circumstances. Amina has left her 8-year-old grandson Dylan in Hana’s care.

Amina’s death forces Hana to remember her life in Bosnia where she lived as Nura Divjak. She focuses on her memories during the Bosnian War. In 1995, when Hana is 17, Serbian soldiers arrive at her farm. The events motivate her to join a band of Bosniak militia fighters. Hana wants to uncover the person responsible for Amina’s death but she worries that the police investigation will also uncover her real identity and past actions.

There is a dual timeline. Chapters alternate between the present in Minnesota and the past, primarily 1995 in Bosnia. Both timelines use the third-person limited omniscient point of view, though Hana’s chapters use the present tense and Nura’s chapters use the past tense.

I found both sections equally intriguing. Though it’s obvious that Nura survives events in Bosnia, she often finds herself in life-threatening situations and it’s obvious she will not escape unscathed either physically or psychologically. In Hana’s sections, the outcome is more uncertain. Because of her past she faces danger in the present, and there’s the added responsibility to protect Dylan. Both timelines are intense so my interest never lagged.

The decisions made at the end struck me as less plausible. I was convinced by Hana’s choices because of her past but the detective’s actions are less realistic. Because the reader gets to know Hana so well, her behaviour is understandable; that is not the case with the police detective. Overall, the romance element is questionable, though I understand its necessity in the narrative. I did also appreciate the author’s including a conversation about David’s wanting to make a difference and not “’just going through the motions’” and the danger of “’crossing the line.’” This discussion is, I think, intended as foreshadowing.

Of course the ending is thought-provoking. The reader will definitely think about the justification of killing another human being: Is the premeditated killing of a person justified if s/he threatens the safety of others? Is it acceptable to take justice into one’s own hands if justice has not been achieved by legal means? Should a person be held accountable for all actions in wartime? Is revenge ever justifiable?

This book combines historical fiction and crime drama with some thriller and romance elements. It’s my first novel by this author, but I will certainly be checking out his backlist. My husband and I visited Bosnia-Herzegovina in the fall of 2018 and we saw evidence of the war in our tour of the country, but I have not read many novels set in this country during the Bosnian War. I will certainly be recommending this one.

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

Review of THE QUEENS OF CRIME by Marie Benedict (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This novel is set in 1931 in London during the Golden Age of Detective Fiction.

Dorothy Sayers, a founding member of the Detection Club, invites Agatha Christie, Margery Allingham, Ngaio Marsh, and Emma Orczy to join. Feeling that they are not fully accepted by the men in the club, the women mystery writers, calling themselves the Queens of Crime, set out to prove their worth by solving a real mystery. May Daniels was a young nurse who vanished on a day visit to France. She was last seen walking into a women’s washroom in a train station in Boulogne-sur-Mer; months later her body is found in a nearby wooded area. The five women begin their investigation by tracing May’s last days and interviewing all people with whom she’d had some contact in that time.

As expected from Benedict, the novel is well researched. There’s a great blending of fact and fiction. The Detection Club did exist and four of the women were actual members collectively called the Queens of Crime. Only Emma Orczy’s membership is an added fictional element. Details of the women’s lives, like Christie’s disappearance and her difficult relationship with her sister, are incorporated into the narrative. The blurb even mentions that the book was “inspired by a true story in Sayers’ own life.”

Unfortunately, I found that other than Sayers and Christie, the women remain two-dimensional. Sayers is the narrator so we see more of her personality and learn more about her, including a dark secret, and Christie also has more clearly delineated traits and a more complete backstory. (Of course Benedict did pen a previous book, The Mystery of Mrs. Christie, so a more complex development of Christie’s character would be expected.) The others tend to be differentiated with one trait: Emma is the older, prim and proper aristocrat; Ngaio is the unconventional one in both dress and attitude; and Margery is the enthusiastic youngest.

The mystery has the characteristics of a classic whodunit. There’s a locked room mystery, the bungling of dim-witted police, red herrings, and a gathering of suspects at the end. I found much of the plot predictable; there is only a handful of characters so the number of suspects is limited. What irked is how every conversation presents a clue which moves the investigation forward. Unfortunately, there are unanswered questions at the end: How did the writer of the note to Sayers know her secret? What exactly happened to the violinist? Then there are the unrealistic elements: The owner of a cafe knows the contents of an autopsy report? The letter written by May is totally unrealistic. She wants to leave evidence but names no one and leaves it in such a strange location?! I hate such artificial contrivances.

The book emphasizes the challenges the five female writers face in a male-dominated field but also looks at women’s struggles in society. May’s murder is investigated only superficially as if there’s a reluctance to devote time and resources for the death of a woman. To make matters worse, May’s reputation is smeared and she’s even blamed for her own death. Even female witnesses are dismissed by the police. After the end of World War I, women were expected to give back their jobs to returning servicemen and to revert to traditional domestic roles but there was a paucity of marriageable men because so many had been killed. These unmarried women were called “surplus” and were especially scorned if they sought employment to support themselves – though they had no other choice. Women’s reputation could be damaged by any misstep; even a choice of clothes could define a wearer as “loose.” An illegitimate pregnancy would result in damning both the mother and child’s reputations and their ability to earn a living. My objection is not to this theme but to the sometimes heavy-handed way in which it’s developed. Is it really necessary to have Sayers say, “’Never forget that we women aren’t what you call us – witches or crones or madwomen or surplus or nobodies. We are all Queens’”?

I’m certain this book will appeal to many, especially readers of Benedict’s historical fiction and of classic whodunits like those written by the five women featured in this novel. I found it entertaining but not exceptional.

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

Review of END OF AUGUST by Paige Dinneny (New Release)

 4 Stars

This is a very impressive debut novel.

Teenaged Aurora Taylor arrives with her mother Laine in Monroe, Indiana, for the funeral of Jay, Gran’s husband. Aurora assumes it’ll be a short stay since her mother hates Monroe, has a contentious relationship with Gran, and has a history of never staying long in one place. In her 15 years Aurora has lived in 18 towns since her mother tends to make poor relationship choices and then leaves town when things become difficult; Aurora describes Laine as “a mother who preferred to leave when things got hard,” teaching her daughter to “avoid the problem, and hope it fixes itself.”

The stay in Munroe, however, continues longer than expected because Laine becomes involved with a married man with a family. As a result, Aurora has time to make a friend, get a part-time job, and experience first love. Though she finds a measure of happiness, she believes it’ll be only a matter of time before her mother packs them up once again and Aurora will have to leave everything behind.

Aurora is the narrator and the character about whom the reader will come to care. In many ways she is much more mature than her mother. She’s the sensible one who is surprisingly resilient, although she is also vulnerable. Her nomadic life has left her longing for stability and belonging; she wants a home. She knows her mother and understands how her family is dysfunctional and how they are viewed by people in the small town. Her greatest fear is “becoming my mother’s daughter” because she believes “In the end, we become our parents.” She even dislikes the fact that people keep telling her she looks so much like her mother. Certainly she feels guilty by association, knowing people will judge her by her mother’s actions.

The author captures so well the complex emotions of adolescence. There’s Aurora’s insecurity and need to be accepted by others and to have the normal experiences of girls her age. But there’s always her mother overshadowing her life. Aurora is sensitive and kind-hearted: “I did feel guilty about the mess my mother had made and the people it affected. I had a weak stomach when it came to hurting others.” She acknowledges her mixed feelings about her mother, wondering “how you could love someone so much but still want them to leave”: “’I don’t hate her . . . I hate what she’s done, but I don’t hate her. She’s my mom.’”

Laine is a character I found difficult to like or sympathize with. I understand the trauma in her past: “’How about a twelve-year-old spending weekends alone while Mom’s on a bender? Or a sixteen-year-old getting fucked in the back of the bar while Mom sleeps off the night?’” As a result, I would expect her to want to give her daughter a better life than she had. Yet she is so self-centred and selfish that she never really considers her daughter’s needs and desires. Aurora summarizes Laine’s life: “Mom kept busy – work, men, moves – and I was just along for the ride.” Aurora knows her mother “would always choose herself” so she can only “pretend she asked the right questions, pretend she cared about where I was, who I was with, what we did.”

In many ways Laine is much more immature that Aurora who considers the feelings of others, whereas Laine is impulsive and reckless, constantly choosing destructive relationships. In the novel, Aurora grows in understanding herself and Gran acknowledges her mistakes, fights her dependence on alcohol, and prioritizes her granddaughter’s happiness, but Laine remains as emotionally unstable as ever. Nonetheless I did appreciate Gran’s comment that “’Our world is easier on men’” which does emphasize that it is women like Laine who suffer more for poor decisions.

The novel is slow paced but given its focus, that pace is appropriate. The reader is able to fully understand the complexities of characters and their relationships. We can also feel Aurora’s disappointment, hurt, embarrassment, and anger – all emotions her mother’s behaviour elicits. Despite the lack of action, tension does build. How will Laine’s latest relationship end and what will the consequences be for so many others? In this regard, however, I would have preferred there not be a prologue because it gives too much away about what will happen at the end of August.

This is a very poignant book which will not leave the reader unaffected. We delight in Aurora’s newfound happiness but also share her anxiety as she contemplates the ending of that happiness because of her mother’s choices. This is a book I recommend to both adult and young adult readers.  

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

Review of THREE DAYS IN JUNE by Anne Tyler (New Release)

5 Stars 

Once again, Anne Tyler does not disappoint. Her latest novel is as delightful a read as her previous titles.

This book, detailing three days in the life of 61-year-old Gail Baines, begins on a Friday. The day is consequential for Gail: she learns she has been passed over for an expected promotion, her ex-husband Max and a fostered cat arrive on her doorstep, and her daughter Debbie shares a secret about Kenneth, the man she will be marrying the next day. Max’s visit, Debbie’s revelation, the rehearsal dinner, and the wedding the next day leave Gail thinking back on her own marriage and how it came to an end.

As always, Tyler excels at characterization. Gail is eminently relatable, an ordinary woman with both flaws and positive traits. She’s an introvert who is not socially adept; she is told, “’social interactions have never been your strong point.’” She’s a perfectionist who cannot “settle for just okay.” She worries about everything. Max even teases her: “’Do you keep an itemized list of things to worry about? How do you remember them all?’” As befits her career as an educator, Gail lives a planned life: “I ached for it.” She tells Max, “’I don’t feel I have the option of just . . . trying out various random ideas and giving up if they don’t work out.’” It’s also obvious that she’s very sensitive to any perceived slight, like her daughter calling her in-laws before calling her. She gives the impression of competence, but her interior monologue shows her lack of confidence; she describes herself as “too inept, too uninformed. How come there weren’t any grownups around? Why did everyone just assume I knew what I was doing?”

Mild-mannered Max is very much Gail’s foil. He’s not practical like his ex-wife. He seems to have drifted or bumbled through life. He shows up for his daughter’s wedding without a suit. Unlike the judgmental Gail, he’s amiable and tends to see the best in people. It’s impossible to dislike Max and as the narrative progressed, I found myself liking him more and more.

The novel touches on the joys and heartbreaks of love, marriage, and family life. Tyler’s insightfulness cannot but impress. I found myself agreeing with many of her observations, like the one about a woman loving her husband “at least in the on-again-off-again, maybe/maybe-not, semi-happy way of just about any married woman” and the one about “married-couple conversations that continue intermittently for weeks, sometimes, branching out and doubling back and looping into earlier strands like a piece of crochet work.”

And as in other of Tyler’s books, there are touches of humour. In this case, the cat’s interactions with Gail cannot but bring a smile. As a former English teacher, I particularly enjoyed Gail’s correcting people’s grammar: “I decided against telling her that especial was almost not used anymore.” I chuckled at Max’s confusing Kegel pelvic floor exercises with “’doing geckos.’”

At less than 200 pages, this is a quick read, but its economy conveys so much. It may seem simple but it’s so masterfully crafted that nothing feels contrived. It’s an unpretentious but wise novel about imperfect but authentic and appealing people.

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

Review of BLACK WOODS, BLUE SKY by Eowyn Ivey (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This book is being marketed as a dark fairy tale and many readers see it as a re-imagining of “Beauty and the Beast” though there is certainly not a typical fairy tale ending.

Twenty-six-year-old Birdie works as a server in an Alaskan lodge. As a single mother, she has difficulty making ends meet. What she really longs for is freedom in the wilds of nature. Birdie befriends Arthur, a recluse who speaks little and then only uses the present tense. Eventually she takes her six-year-old daughter Emaleen to live with Arthur in his remote cabin. Birdie enjoys her life secluded from the civilized world though Arthur’s behaviour, like disappearing for days without any explanation, is strange. But there are hints that Arthur may be dangerous as well as mysterious.

I found Birdie an almost totally unlikeable character. She wants to escape a place where people judge her behaviour and question her decisions, but she proves to be someone who needs people to oversee her actions. She is an irresponsible parent who puts her own selfish desires above the welfare of her child. She seems incapable of making good decisions. She ignores warnings and warning signs and impulsively makes unrealistic and reckless choices that endanger Emaleen. Excuses are made for her, like her “wanting something extraordinary,” but what stands out is her self-centredness; what matters to Birdie is her own happiness, even if that puts her daughter in harm’s way. There is little real communication with Arthur so there is no real relationship, yet Birdie takes Emaleen to live with him in an isolated cabin? Any reasonable person would see Birdie’s choices as a recipe for disaster: “What kind of mother puts her six-year-old in that impossible situation?”

There are other characters who are also negligent. Della, Warren, and Syd know or suspect much more about Arthur, but their warnings are lukewarm at best. They bear responsibility for what happens (pun intended). Of course, what happens is totally predictable since the message of Birdie’s behaviour seems to be that one cannot fight one’s true nature, in her case that being “drawn to risk and havoc.” If she can’t rein in her free spirit, it’s inevitable that Arthur will not be able to do so either.

There are elements that are worthy of praise. For instance, the writer does excel at descriptions of setting. The Alaskan landscape along with its flora and fauna becomes a character in the book. Though slow paced at the beginning, the book is well-written; the author has a great command of language. There’s symbolism like “One side of his face was lit by the bright moon, the other darkened by the shadows of the trees.” The alternating points of view, especially Emaleen’s, add depth and create suspense.

As the book cover indicates, a bear features prominently in the book.  Syd mentions the many stories of bears found in various cultures: “’Peculiar how similar they are, the stories about bears. . . . Wild sows taking in abandoned human babies and raising them as their own. Women falling in love with boars. Girls being abducted by bears and giving birth to their children in mountain caves.’” Of course I thought of Bear by Marian Engel which I read many years ago and Bear by Julia Phillips which I read just last year. Having encountered bears during nature hikes and berry picking, I don’t share the romantic fascination others have with this wild animal.

As I mentioned from the beginning, this book should be read as a fable or fairy tale so one must be willing to suspend disbelief and appreciate magic realism. I loved fairy tales as a child, but the surreal elements of fantasy no longer appeal to me so I am probably not the best reader for this book.

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

Review of MISSING PERSON: ALICE by Simon Mason

 4 Stars

For my listening during morning walks, I thought I’d try a new series. This is the first of the Finder Mysteries focused on Talib, a specialist in finding people.

In 2015, 12-year-old Alice Johnson went missing from Sevenoaks, southeast of London, and was never found. Nine years later the body of another girl is found and a man named Vince Burns is charged. Police also suspect him in Alice’s disappearance so they hire the Finder to find anything that may have been missed in the initial investigation. He interviews those who knew Alice and learns about a girl who seems an enigma. Witness statements often paint contradictory impressions of the young girl. Which was the real Alice and what happened to her?

Talib remains much of a mystery since little is learned about him. He was born in Iraq and his parents were killed in a bomb attack. Perhaps more of his backstory will be revealed in later installments in the series. What does emerge is his personality: he is intelligent, determined, thorough, and compassionate. He is also self-controlled so not easily ruffled.

This is not an action-packed book since the focus is the investigation of a cold case. The Finder interviews people and decides on a course of action based on what he discovers after each conversation. This is a quiet, measured detective story which is cleverly plotted. It works well as an audiobook.

I liked that there are lots of clues throughout. Even the book Talib is reading provides insight into Alice and suggests possible motivations. I appreciated one character’s comment that people sometimes present contradictory versions of themselves to different people. And there is some thematic depth in this short novel; it examines the impact of a missing person on those left behind – family, acquaintances, and the community as a whole.

I really enjoyed this unassuming book so I’ve already downloaded the second book in the series, The Case of the Lonely Accountant. A third book, The Woman Who Laughed, is scheduled for release in 2025.

Review of GOOD DIRT by Charmaine Wilkerson (New Release)

 3 Stars

Ten-year-old Ebby Freeman hears the gunshot that kills her older brother Baz and shatters a family heirloom known as Old Mo, an old stoneware jug handcrafted by an enslaved ancestor. The Freeman family, one of the only Black families in an affluent New England enclave, faces a media frenzy. This is repeated eighteen years later when Ebby’s fiance, Henry Pepper, doesn’t show up on their wedding day. Ebby flees to France where she spends time reflecting on what she and her family have lost and how to move ahead.

A major theme is how the past informs the present. It’s certainly obvious that trauma has shaped the lives of many. Ebby has never recovered from the death of Baz as her relationship difficulties indicate. Ebby’s parents, Ed and Soh, also have never recovered; Soh, for instance, has become overly protective of her daughter.

But another theme is one that is also found in the author’s previous book, Black Cake: how poor communication causes relationship problems. This is not just the case between Ebby and Henry, but also between Ed and Soh and between Ebby and her parents. So many times, I wanted to scream at the characters, “Just talk to each other openly and honestly.”

The book has multiple points of view. I usually enjoy this narrative technique, but this novel includes the perspectives of secondary characters which add little to the story. For instance, what’s the purpose of including the point of view of the two robbers? We already know how Baz dies, so why do we have to have his viewpoint? Because there are multiple timelines and the novel jumps amongst characters and time frames, the result is a disjointed novel.

The book is much longer than it needs to be. The story tends to be repetitive. Over and over again, we have Ebby’s interior monologue always focused on the same thoughts about her brother’s death, the media focus on her family, and Henry’s disappearing on their wedding day. How many times must there be teasing reference to the secret message of hope inscribed on Old Mo? Repeatedly withholding information doesn’t create suspense; it just becomes annoying. Then there are the events that serve no purpose. What, for example, is the purpose of Henry’s injury? Yes, Avery and Ebby connect as a result, but are their interactions really necessary? The many extraneous scenes add quantity but not quality. The reliance on coincidences also weakens the narrative. The section in France is particularly full of chance events.

Good Dirt suffers from another weakness also found in Black Cake: the impression of a checklist of issues that the author wants to mention. So many problems faced by Blacks are covered: their history not being seen as part of American history because Blacks are still perceived as being worth less; the difficulty of their being accepted as capable, successful and affluent; the dangers faced by young Black men; the tendency to blame Black families that have encountered misfortune; and the disapproval of mixed-race marriages. And of course there’s the horrible treatment Blacks suffered from the beginning of their being brought to the country. All of these certainly deserve attention, but trying to address all of them in one book may not be the best approach.

The book needs tightening. It meanders all over the place and touches on so many characters and so many issues that it lacks focus. It would be a more powerful book were unnecessary repetition and elements omitted.

Note: In return for an honest review, I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of THE COAST ROAD by Alan Murrin

 4 Stars

This book examines marital constraints women faced when divorce was not an option in a religious and patriarchal society. The plot is set in 1994 in the fictional Irish town of Ardglas in County Donegal and focuses on three women trapped in unhappy marriages.

Colette Crowley, a published poet, left her husband Shaun and three sons for an affair with a married man in Dublin. The relationship over, she returns to Ardglas, wanting to have contact with her sons, but Shaun denies her visits. She rents a cottage and tries to earn money by holding creative writing workshops.

Izzy Keaveney is married to James, an elected member of the government, who controls her life by denying her any attempts at independence. She often sinks into deep depression. Her only friend is Father Brian Dempsey, the parish priest. She attends Colette’s workshops and eventually sets up clandestine meetings between Colette and her youngest son.

Dolores Mullen is pregnant with her fourth child. She too is unhappy in her marriage because her husband Donal is a philanderer who constantly criticizes her. She suspects that he is having an affair with Colette who has rented their cottage next door.

The women are fully developed, complex characters; they are flawed but vulnerable so it’s impossible not to have empathy for them since they are trapped by circumstances and their lack of free agency. Colette may have left her husband, but she wants to remain a part of her children’s lives, especially her youngest son. Though she has some money, she relies on Shaun for financial support until he cuts her off completely. She becomes the target of the town’s gossip. Izzy wants to open up a business as a florist, but James refuses. James’ concern is always what the public will think. Dolores can’t escape: she’s pregnant, with abortion not an option, and married to a serial adulterer.

The men in the novel are bullies who manipulate others but suffer less from the townspeople’s intolerance. Whereas Colette is viewed as a sexually promiscuous woman, her husband Shaun dates another woman without being censored. James uses his powerful position to punish Izzy but remains viewed as an upstanding man in the community. Donal is a womanizer who psychologically abuses his own wife but still manages to find clients for his business. Women have much more to fear from scandal than the men.

One of the few likeable male characters is Father Brian. Though a Catholic priest, he is the most open-minded. He allows Colette to read in church and befriends Izzy. He also tries to counsel Dolores, though he obviously can’t advise her to leave her husband. He becomes a victim of James’ machinations and small-town rumours.

With its focus on characters and their circumstances, the novel is slow-paced. The perspective of several characters is included. Only the last part of the novel, after a tragic event, is more action-packed. This last section also shows women being stronger than the reader might initially think. Though accepting of their situations, they are not resigned.

I very much enjoyed the book and its examination of Irish women’s lives and how they were controlled by men and the Catholic Church before the legalization of divorce in 1996. I was impressed by the male author’s ability to convey the inner lives of women.

I will end on a personal note. There are so many excellent Irish novels, but I’ve been hindered by my lack of knowledge of Irish geography. Happily, my husband and I toured Ireland this past fall so I have a better understanding of the setting of Irish books I now know exactly where the various counties and towns are located and what their physical features are.

Review of WE DO NOT PART by Han Kang (New Release)

4 Stars

This is my first novel by Han Kang, the winner of the 2024 Nobel Prize in Literature.

Kyungha, a writer suffering from migraines and abdominal spasms, receives a message from Inseon, a friend who left her career as photographer/film documentarian to become a woodworker. Inseon has been hospitalized because of an injury and asks Kyungha to travel to her house on Jeju Island to save her pet bird. A snowstorm impedes Kyungha’s travel, but her eventual arrival at her friend’s home brings her face to face with a dark, forgotten chapter in Korean history.

For me this was a challenging read both because of its style and its subject matter. The experimental style, often bordering on stream-of-consciousness, with its ambiguity I sometimes found confusing. The narrative switches frequently and suddenly between past and present and between perspectives so I struggled with orienting myself. Then there are sequences, especially in the second half of the novel, which blur the boundaries between dream and reality so it is difficult to determine what is real and what is imagined. Of course, this blurring is appropriate given that the content emphasizes the difficulties of penetrating a history kept hidden.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t comment on the beautiful, poetic prose with its vivid metaphors. The descriptions of snow are gorgeous: “white thread-like flakes draw empty paths through the air” and “snowflakes swirl wildly as if inside a giant popcorn machine” and “Snowflakes resembling a flock of tens of thousands of birds appear like a mirage” and “Each snowflake made its endlessly slow descent, seeming to thread together in mid-air like giant motifs in a lace curtain” and “a flurry of snow coruscating like fine grains of salt” and “the flakes were floating down like feathers now, and I could see their crystalline shapes” and “As the snow lands on the wet asphalt, each flake seems to falter for a moment. Then, like a trailing sentence at the close of a conversation, like the dying fall of a final cadence, like fingertips cautiously retreating before ever landing on a shoulder, the flakes sink into the slick blackness and are soon gone.”

Of course, the snow, like so much other imagery, is symbolic. Kyungha finds herself almost buried in snow, just as the past has been buried. Her struggle parallels the difficulty of re-visiting the past. The ferocity of the snowstorm mirrors the brutality of the events that occurred on Jeju Island. What cannot but strike the reader is the contrast between the beautiful language and the horrific content.

My lack of knowledge about Korean history was definitely a factor in my understanding of events being described. I might recommend that readers familiarize themselves with the events in South Korea between 1948 and 1954, but that would undoubtedly lessen the emotional impact of what is revealed. Nonetheless the reader must be prepared to read about torture, ethnic cleansing, and genocide so that, like Inseon, the reader might find that “nothing one human being did to another could ever shock. . . again.” I imagine that most readers will be motivated to do some research after finishing the novel.

The message of the book, as its title clearly suggests, is that we cannot and should not be separated from our pasts and each other. Trauma lingers long after the violence ends, even for generations, but healing can be found in remembrance and human connection.

This poignant and powerful novel demands much of readers. Not only is it challenging in terms of style, but it also asks readers to bear witness to traumatic events and to remember. It’s a book worth not just reading but re-reading because it’s so masterfully written that it is impossible for a reader to grasp all its artistry and nuances in one read.

Note: In return for an honest review, I received a digital galley from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of LOCKED IN by Jussi Adler-Olsen

3.5 Stars 

This is the tenth and last installment in the Department Q series; this book brings everything full circle to the first book.

This book begins where The Shadow Murders, the ninth book, ends. Detective Carl Mørck, charged with aiding and abetting a murder, corruption, theft, and drug dealing, is arrested and incarcerated. He knows he has been framed but he doesn’t know by whom or how to prove his innocence. In prison he is in danger from incarcerated criminals and corrupt guards; he learns that there is a bounty on his head. The media is having a heyday, and few in the Copenhagen police department support him. The exceptions are Assad, Rose, and Gordon of Department Q, but they have been given strict orders not to investigate Carl’s case in any way. Fortunately, help does come from unexpected people who feel they owe Carl.

There are lots of connections to previous cases, especially the one central to the first book, The Keeper of Lost Causes. I had forgotten quite a bit but the author provides sufficient information to remind readers of the essential details. Then there’s the case that is mentioned in each of the books, the one which resulted in Hardy’s catastrophic injury and the death of his colleague Anker Høyer. That case is the one that is finally solved.

The novel covers a fairly short time span (Dec. 26, 2020 to Jan. 11, 2021) but several points of view are provided.  Included are the perspectives of various bad guys; tension increases as the reader knows the personalities, motivations, and plans of those interested in guaranteeing Carl’s demise. Carl is in danger from both inside and outside the prison.

The novel is like the previous Department Q books. There are the quirky Department Q staffers; touches of humour, usually via Assad’s misunderstanding of idiomatic expressions; graphic violence; and the untangling of “labyrinthine mysteries.” Though the case that lead to the creation of Department Q is resolved, I did find that some of the secondary characters are abandoned. What happened to “the invisible power behind it all” or Pelle? Their subplots, given more than cursory attention, are not completely resolved.

This book is recommended to those who have followed and read the entire series. I’m actually tempted to re-read the books to see if there are any subtle clues as to the villain’s identity which I missed in my initial readings.  

Review of THE LOST HOUSE by Melissa Larsen (New Release)

 3 Stars

Agnes Glin travels from California to Iceland to investigate the gruesome murders of her grandmother Marie and her infant daughter 40 years earlier. The case was never solved, but most people suspect that Einar, Agnes’ grandfather, killed his wife and daughter. Agnes’ beloved grandfather has died but she wants to clear his name so connects with Nora Carver, a true crime podcaster who has helped solve another case. Will Agnes be able to prove her grandfather’s innocence or will she only confirm what virtually everyone in the town of Bifröst already believes?

There are a couple of complications. Agnes has a dependence on pain medication after a major injury to her leg. Then, just as Agnes arrives in Iceland, a university student named Ása has gone missing in Bifröst after a party at Agnes’ ancestral home. Are the cases connected?

I found Agnes an unlikeable character and so had difficulty caring about what happens to her. She’s 26 years of age, but she seems very immature. Before arriving in Iceland and despite warnings from her father, it never occurred to her that her grandfather might be guilty? She’s in Iceland for two weeks in February, but doesn’t buy gloves to protect her hands from the cold? She is very self-centred, showing little consideration for other people’s struggles or emotions. She stays with Nora but not once offers to help with things like meals? Despite her life-altering injury, she doesn’t take care of herself; over and over again, she pushes her body beyond its limits and then seems shocked by the pain she experiences. She makes rash decisions without considering possible consequences; these seem choices more appropriate to a teenager. Though we are to believe she undergoes some character growth at the end of the novel, I wasn’t convinced.

The male characters feel underdeveloped, more like flat characters with one dominant trait: Óskar is hostile, Ingvar is sweet, Thor Senior is antagonistic, etc. And what’s with Óskar’s belief in a murder gene; he’s a university student so supposedly intelligent but thinks Agnes needs to be watched and calls her “’murderer’s child’”!

Pacing is an issue. Not much happens, especially in the middle of the plot. There are just a lot of conversations which are repetitive and reveal little new information. And so much else is repetitive; since so much of the narrative is Agnes’ interior monologue, there are repeated references to her injury, her struggles with opiate addiction, her fractured relationship with her father, and her feelings for Lilja. There is action at the end of the book, but readers might be tempted to stop reading before reaching the action-packed section.

There are plot issues. The author seems not to have researched Iceland’s weather very carefully because blizzards are not likely to happen so often and so conveniently in a two-week span. And where’s the reference to the Northern Lights since February is the best month to see them there? The search for Ása is so uncoordinated and no one thinks of a cellar in a farmhouse? Agnes, not once but twice, somehow finds herself at the back of houses? And what’s with the unnecessary romantic relationship, especially one which relies on the love-at-first-sight trope? Finally and most importantly, there is no great reveal because the plot is predictable. The repeated references to people’s ages give any astute reader the answer very early on.

I understand this is not the author’s first novel, but with its plot weaknesses it feels very much like a debut book.

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

Review of STONE YARD DEVOTIONAL by Charlotte Wood

 3.5 Stars

Slow, meditative novels dominated the 2024 Booker Prize for Fiction. This title was on the shortlist.

The narrator is an unnamed woman who worked in a Threatened Species Rescue Centre. She leaves her job and her marriage in Sydney and joins a convent in her childhood town in New South Wales. She doesn’t convert; she becomes an oblate, not a member of the religious order but offering herself in service to it. She despairs about the state of the world and wants to withdraw and reflect on her life. She believes the routine, solitude, and quiet of the convent will allow her to contemplate grief, forgiveness, and atonement.

There is minimal plot. Only three events occur: the remains of Sister Jenny, a nun murdered years ago in Thailand, are repatriated; Helen Parry, an activist nun working on environmental and human rights issues, arrives and brings the noise of the world with her; and the region suffers a plague of mice which swarm the convent after a drought in the north.

The description of the mice is visceral. The narrator admits to hating them: “Their stink, their rapaciousness and skittering feet. . . . At night . . . No birds, no psalm practice, no miscellaneous noises . . . Only mice feet overhead, pattering across the ceiling and inside the walls.” The narrator wakes up to “see that the flyscreen over my closed window is crawling with leaping, climbing mice.” At one point the mice begin to feed on their own dead. The scene where the woman opens the car door and feels “a squirming sensation” at her back only to discover a dozen mice will not leave me.

It is the flashbacks to the narrator’s childhood that were most interesting to me. Her relationship with her mother receives most attention. It’s obvious that she was deeply influenced by her mother: “I never knew anyone else who had her reverence for the earth itself.” A major regret is her not having understood her mother better and therefore not helping her more as her death approached. The woman realizes her inability to recover from her parents’ death; she describes this as “a source of lifelong shame to me.”

For me, it is not the narrator who is most memorable; it is Helen Parry who steals the show. Helen and the narrator were classmates and she remembers Helen as a vulnerable, needy child with a negligent mother; Helen was treated as an outcast and terribly bullied. Now she seems invulnerable and so confident that she requires no affirmation from anyone. Her comment at the end shows wisdom: “’I loved my mother, and she – tried, as much as she was able, to love me.’” I’d love to read a book focusing on Helen and her development into “the radical environmentalist nun.”

The novel asks what is the appropriate response when there are so many problems that require our attention. Sister Jenny insisted “on the immorality of staying” but her friend who stayed at the convent has difficulty forgiving Jenny for leaving. The narrator admits that she can accurately be described as “Choosing disappearance, while Helen has chosen the opposite.” Is retreat or escape an ethical choice when problems like climate change need action?

As I read, I found myself identifying with a comment made by the narrator: “It feels always that I am on the edge of some comprehension here but never breaking through to the other side.” I still feel that I’ve missed a lot in this novel, as if I’m the stone yard, arid ground, which has not absorbed much.

Review of BUTTER: A NOVEL OF FOOD AND MURDER by Asako Yuzuki

 3.5 Stars

This almost-500-page book, a bestseller in Japan, is based on the real-life case of the Konkatsu Killer, a con woman and talented cook convicted of killing three of her lovers.

Rika Machida is a 33-year-old journalist in Tokyo who wants to write about Manako Kajii and meets with her several times in the detention centre where she is awaiting a re-trial. Rika becomes fascinated with Kajii’s gourmet tastes and starts to learn how to cook. As a result she gains weight and begins to receive negative comments just as Kajii was the target of relentless fat-shaming.

The novel examines the impossible beauty standards and gender expectations to which Japanese women are held: “Japanese women are required to be self-denying, hard-working and ascetic, and in the same breath, to be feminine, soft and caring towards men.” Men are domestically dependent on women, but “At the end of the day, men were not looking for a real-life woman, but a professional entertainer.”

Rika is a dynamic character. She learns to cook, wrestles to be comfortable in her new body, navigates society’s patriarchal views of women’s roles and bodies, and in the end discovers how she wants to live. It’s patently obvious that one central theme is that one should accept oneself as one is, not as society dictates. Another theme is that there are different ways of living and one must find the way that best fits: “what’s so wrong about choosing whichever path seems more appealing to you? What’s so wrong about coating barren, flavourless reality in oodles of melted butter and seasoning it with condiments and spices?’’

These themes are not developed subtly. Topics like gender expectations and beauty standards are discussed by the characters in a very straightforward manner. Actually some of the dialogue feels didactic rather than realistic as if the author was worried her theme was not developed with sufficient clarity. In fact, much of the novel feels inauthentic. Behaviour feels contrived to develop theme. Rika’s weight gain is meant to challenge societal pressures regarding feminine appearance and her friend Reiko’s behaviour is meant to challenge societal expectations regarding relationships.

I found characters behave inconsistently. Rika is supposedly intelligent as evidenced by her success at her job, but her behaviour suggests the opposite. It is obvious from the beginning that Kajii is narcissistic, cruel, and conniving, yet Rika doesn’t see how she is being manipulated. Her friend Reiko’s behaviour also seems idiotic for someone who is supposed to be intelligent. Her decision to play detective to help her friend seems extreme to say the least.

There are extensive luscious descriptions of food: “the pale-yellow solid gently began to change colour, spreading out to the sides and turning golden, mingling with the fish eggs. The full, milky aroma of the butter married with the salty marine tang of the roe . . . She garnished the pasta with a scattering of shiso leaves . . . There was a rosy-cheeked frankness about the pink of the roe, and in combination with the oozing butter, it looked positively carefree. . . .Cloaked in a coating of minuscule fish eggs and butter, the spaghetti strands sprang around Rika’s tongue as if in excitement. The dish was adequately salted, but there was a relaxed, mellow quality to its taste. What a wonderful combination pollock roe and butter made.” Some of these descriptions go on and on and so overshadow the narrative.

I must admit to feeling out of my league at times. I certainly don’t know anything about the many different kinds of butter: Snow Brand, Calpis, Sado, Échiré, and Koiwai. There are many references to Japanese food like nanakusagayu and noppe and hizunumasu and toshikoshi soba and osechi and kuromame and datemaki which meant nothing to me. There are also many cultural references unfamiliar to me: otaku and hanami parties.

This is not a bad book, but I found it overly long with everything artificially contrived to serve a thematic agenda.