Review of THE BERRY PICKERS by Amanda Peters

 3.5 Stars

I don’t remember how I came to hear about this book, but I’m glad I did. 

There is a dual narrative.  Joe, dying from cancer, tells the story of his sister Ruthie’s disappearance decades earlier in 1962 when he and his family travelled as usual to Maine to pick blueberries.  Joe, six years old at the time, is the last to see four-year-old Ruthie.  Her mysterious vanishing leaves Joe devastated and affects him for his entire life. 

In alternating chapters we meet Norma who grows up in an affluent family in Maine, though her father is emotionally distant and her mother is suffocatingly protective.  Norma always has a sense of disconnection from her family and is troubled by dreams that seem too real, dreams that she quickly learns no one wants her to mention.  After the death of both parents, she discovers family secrets which set her looking for the full truth.

The plot is predictable, especially because the ending of the prologue indicates what is going to happen.  As a result, there is little narrative tension.  Norma’s identity is clear, especially when she mentions having a doll which she gives a revealing name.  An encounter at a park is also important, though it is rather coincidental.

It is the book’s examination of various issues that caught my attention.  For instance, the treatment of First Nations people is highlighted.  The sheriff does nothing to search for Ruthie; he says, “’She’s not been gone long enough, and you not being proper Maine citizens, and known transients’” and adds, “’If you were so concerned about the girl, you’d have taken better notice, I guess.’”  Mr. Ellis, the man who employs the berry pickers, lets two days pass during which the workers search for Ruthie, and then tells Ruthie’s father, “’This ain’t my problem . . . if you don’t get back to work, there are lots of other Indians around that would be more than happy to work these fields.’”  And then there’s the Indian agent who threatens to remove more of the children, telling the parents,  “’You give me a good explanation for losing a child and I will consider leaving one, maybe two, in your care.’” 

The effects of trauma are also examined.  Joe is consumed by grief, the “kind of grief [that] leads people to do things they normally wouldn’t.’”  That grief and his feelings of guilt are transformed into anger:  “anger and sadness are just two different sides of the same coin.”  And that anger affects Joe’s interactions with others:  “Anger makes people say things they don’t mean.  Makes them want to hurt others like they’ve been hurt.”  It is so sad that Joe, for the most of his life, cannot let go of that anger:  “’Anger is exhausting.  Holding on to it will drain the life out of you.’” 

This is not a challenging read, but it has a positive message about the persistence of love so is heart-warming despite its many heartbreaking events.  This is a debut novel and I will certainly be looking for future books from the author.

Review of RETURN TO VALETTO by Dominic Smith (New Release)

 4 Stars

In 2011, Valetto is a nearly abandoned town in Italy.  Among its ten remaining residents are the three Serafino sisters (Violet, Iris and Rose) and their mother Ida who is getting ready to celebrate her 100^th birthday.  Hugh Fisher, a historian living in the U.S., returns to their medieval villa where he spent his childhood summers.  His mother Hazel bequeathed him the stone cottage on the family property so he decides to spend his six-month sabbatical there. 

He learns, however, that a woman named Elisa Tomassi has arrived to claim the cottage.  During World War II, Elisa’s mother Alessia was a child refugee given shelter at the villa where she and Hazel became best friends.  Meanwhile, Aldo Serafino, the family patriarch, left to join the Resistance and was helped by Alessia’s parents.  He never returned home after the war, but Elisa tells of his death and his bestowing the cottage in gratitude for the family’s helping to keep him safe.  Ida asks her grandson Hugh to investigate to determine the truth.  He ends up learning about some family history involving his mother Hazel. 

There’s quite a large cast of characters, but everyone emerges as a distinct personality.  I worried about being able to differentiate the three sisters, but that proved not to be an issue.  Each has her own quirks:  Violet loves watching pro wrestling on television; Iris devotes her time to missing persons’ cases; and Rose sponsors children worldwide.  Even minor characters like Milo and Donata, the villa’s staff, are memorable. 

The author’s vivid descriptions transport readers to Umbria.  The landscape and flora are detailed so that it’s impossible not to have a clear visual of the region.  I understand it is possible to buy an abandoned house for €1 as part of an ongoing scheme to revitalize Italy's many sleepy towns with small, ageing populations.  Reading this novel left me wanting to relocate to a rural Italian village.

A major theme is the effects of suppressed trauma on generations.  There’s a wonderful description of actions flowing “across the decades like a tidal bore coming upriver.”  At one point, Elisa speaks about the burden of silence:  “’Silence kills us from the inside.’”  It is only through exposing secrets that they can be confronted and healing can occur.  Hugh, for instance, always felt that he never knew his mother; twice he refers to her as a cipher.  When he learns about what happened to her, a secret she shared with no one except Alessia, he is able to understand some of her behaviour.  Once he has made peace with his mother, Hugh too seems willing to stop wallowing in the past and re-engaging with life. 

Of course it takes courage to speak out.  But it is only when people open up about traumatic events that guilty parties can be made to bear responsibility.  Regardless of how much time has passed, people have a need for justice. 

Though much of the book is serious in tone, there are touches of humour.  The eccentricities of the sisters, the feud between Iris and Violet, and the preparations for Ida’s birthday dinner provide some light-hearted moments.

This is my first book by Dominic Smith.  His novel The Last Painting of Sara de Vos has been on my to-read pile for quite some time, and I think it’ll be moving to the top.  I hope it’s like Return to Valetto which is an example of excellent story-telling, balancing an interesting plot and memorable characters. 

Note:  I received a digital galley from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of LADY TAN'S CIRCLE OF WOMEN by Lisa See (New Release)

 4 Stars

In this novel, Lisa See imagines the life of Tan Yunxian who lived during the Ming dynasty and wrote a collection of medical cases.  Her Miscellaneous Records of a Female Doctor is the earliest known book written by a female doctor in China and is still available.  See used actual cases from this book as a type of framework:  she creates events to explain how Tan Yunxian might have been able to treat women from various social classes. 

We first meet Yunxian in 1469 when she is eight years old.  Born into a wealthy, educated family, she is taught the principles of Chinese medicine by her grandmother, one of the very few female doctors in China at that time.  The focus of her instruction is the health issues of women since “A male doctor may not see or touch a female patient.”  Yunxian’s grandmother encourages her granddaughter’s friendship with Meiling, a midwife-in-training.  Since a doctor should never touch blood but a midwife is in regular contact with it, the two can work together, especially when a woman is in labour. 

Once Yunxian is married, her mother-in-law forbids her from practicing medicine or seeing Meiling.   Confined within the walls of family compound, she is expected to give birth to sons.  She struggles to free herself of these restrictive traditions so she can help women.

The reader learns a great deal about the lives of women in elite families.  Restrictions on their activities are numerous; unlike women like Meiling who belong to the lower classes and have considerable freedom, privileged women are not allowed to leave the women’s areas in the family compound.  Of course the tradition of footbinding limits the mobility of women.  (The descriptions of the process will leave the reader cringing.)  Hours are spent mastering feminine skills like embroidery.  I loved how Yunxian mentions that many of women’s conditions “’are affected by the different types of anger we women must hide from our husbands, mothers-in-law, and concubines.’”  Considering the obedience and sacrifices required of women, this anger is understandable. 

A major theme is the importance of female friendships.  Yunxian’s grandmother says, “’”Friendship is a contract between two hearts.  With hearts united, women can laugh and cry, live and die together.”’”  In a male-dominated world, “’It’s important for women – and girls – to find friendship and steadfastness where they can.’”  Though they are from very different backgrounds, Yunxian and Meiling become life-long friends.  They have times when they are separated by physical and emotional distance, but in the end, both would agree that “’”Life without a friend is life without sun.  Life without a friend is death.”’”

Readers of well-researched historical fiction will certainly enjoy this book; it entertains as it provides information about cultural practices unknown to many.  The addition of a mystery will also appeal.  I especially enjoyed the death investigations, as will anyone interested in forensics.  There is much to recommend this novel.

Note:  I received a digital galley from the publisher via NetGalley.    

Review of THE MEMORY OF ANIMALS by Claire Fuller (New Release)

3.5 Stars

I’ve read three of Claire Fuller’s previous novels (Swimming Lessons, Unsettled Ground, and Our Endless Numbered Days) and enjoyed them so I looked forward to reading her latest.  This dystopian novel didn’t impress me as much as the others.

During a devastating global pandemic, Neffy, a 27-year-old marine biologist, has registered for an experimental vaccine for a disease which in its latest iteration causes edema, memory loss, and sensory damage before leading to death.  The vaccine test is suspended when staff abandons the medical facility in London where the test subjects are housed.  Neffy finds herself safe from the chaos in the outside world but confined with four other young people:  Rachel, Leon, Yahiko, and Piper.  The five must figure out how to live together; fragile alliances are formed and shattered, and interpersonal conflicts arise.  Neffy feels that the others are keeping secrets from her.  Since she is the only volunteer who actually received the vaccine, pressure gradually builds for her to leave the facility to restock food supplies. 

Neffy spends time writing in a journal addressed to H; in it she writes about her love of octopuses.  She also becomes interested in a technology invented by Leon which allows users to intensely re-experience memories.  She is increasingly drawn to the machine which allows her to revisit her childhood, a love affair, and her work with octopuses. 

Though described as a novel about survival, it does not develop as expected.  Danger, action, violence, and survival struggles are minimal.  The middle section in particular is slow paced.  The five test volunteers manage quite well, though food supplies are limited.  The only real suspense revolves around if/when Neffy will venture out.  The conclusion, on the other hand, feels hurried.  Twice near the end there are major time jumps so much is skimmed over.  After the day-to-day structure, these time gaps are jarring. 

Neffy is the most fully developed character.  She has not made the wisest of life choices.  It didn’t occur to her that when she took a job at an aquarium she would be working with captive sea animals?  When faced with difficulties, her tendency is to run away, to escape.  Revisiting the past, therefore, is something she cannot resist; she becomes addicted to the experience, though she tries to justify her behaviour by asking whether people “’can learn from the past?  See things differently, or let it help us decide what we do in the future?’”  Her watching a piece of litter begin blown around foreshadows her personal growth:  “Its meandering journey is a tale of doubling back and indecisiveness, while all the time having no choice but to be pushed forward because the invisible wind says to go back is only an illusion.”

The other test volunteers are only sketchily developed.  I found it difficult to distinguish Rachel from Piper.  Their coping mechanisms are interesting.  Some seem to be in state of shock; some dream of rescue and happy reunions; some hoard objects from the world they knew; and some endlessly scroll through photos from their earlier lives.

Neffy’s obsession with an octopus held in captivity is obviously intended to suggest parallels between the animal and Neffy’s situation.  Both are confined and subjected to experiments.  Captivity affects an animal’s psychological and physical health, as does confinement affect the humans within the medical facility.  Neffy even asks, “Does freedom win over containment, even with all its risks, including death?” 

There are some elements that bothered me.  Neffy’s journal, written in the form of letters intended for H, is strange, especially once H’s identity is revealed.  These entries seem to serve little purpose but teach us about octopuses.  There’s a mystery surrounding the reason for Neffy’s dismissal from her job and the reason for her debt, but the solution is not surprising in the least.  The novel lacks cohesion; the three narrative threads (present, past, and the journal for H) don’t work together to develop theme.  Perhaps a commonality is an examination of our ethical obligation to help others if doing so endangers our lives, but the scattered, unfocused approach means the reader has to try very hard to find connections. 

I was disappointed in the novel.  It’s not bad, just not as polished as the author’s other books. 

Note:  I received a digital galley from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of LIVINGSKY by Anthony Bidulka (New Release)

3.5 Stars 

Merry Bell, after years away and after gender-affirming surgery, decides to return to her hometown of Livingsky, Saskatchewan, where the cost of living is lower than exorbitant Vancouver.  Because of her experience as a private investigator, she decides to start her own private investigating business in Livingsky.  Her first case comes from her potential landlord, Gerald Drover, who wants her to uncover who started a fire in one of his rental properties.  That investigation brings her into contact with shady characters from both sides of the tracks that divide the city.  To complicate matters, Merry herself is considered a suspect in the murder of the Vancouver doctor who performed her surgeries. 

Merry is an engaging character.  It is impossible not to like her.  I loved one character’s description of her as “’brave and wonderful.’”  Her Louboutin designer boots are a perfect symbol for her attitude.   She has flaws which make her realistic, though I did find that at times she is not totally convincing as an investigator.  She never considered that she’d have to have two months’ deposit in order to rent an apartment?  She doesn’t investigate Peter Wells before meeting with him?  Only afterwards does she “take a deep dive into the life of Peter Wells”?  She has a tendency to make assumptions, often incorrect ones.  And she is always being surprised by the unexpected:  “He was not what Merry expected” and “Merry was jerked out of her wah-wah-poor-me stupor by the unexpected question” and “The house was nothing like what Merry expected” and “This was not going as expected” and “She hadn’t expected to hear back from him so soon” and “This was not at all what Merry expected to hear” and “The door was opened by the last person she expected to see.”

The book gives readers an understanding of the struggles of a transgender woman:  “the prices she’d paid, physically, financially, emotionally . . . all the surgeries – genital, facial feminization, tracheal shaping, implant.”  Of course, a transgender woman would be worried about sex:  “’Imagine, if you can, waking up one day to find that the sexual organs you’d always hoped for, the ones you should have been born with, are suddenly right where they were always supposed to be.  It’s like having a brand new toy you have no idea how to play with, and there’s no one around to show you. . . . Finding partners is not an easy thing, especially partners who know and care about what you’re going through.’”  Then there are the concerns like clothing, hair, and make-up.  Initially I wondered why Merry didn’t reconnect with any family or friends in her hometown, but then it makes sense that such reconnections might not be easy:  people might not be accepting of her.

There are other interesting characters.  I especially enjoyed Gerald Drover, the happy gopher.  The description of him when he first appears is so perfectly detailed:  “He was very tall, six-and-a-half feet at least, and slender as a streetlight.  He wore a Heavy Metal band t-shirt, skinny jeans that still required the assistance of a belt to say up, one of those wallets with a chain that hooked onto a belt loop, and crusty cowboy boots that’d seen one too many rodeos. . . . Atop Drover’s perfectly oblong head was a full-on mullet, ginger red.  His cheeks were puffy, his chin pronounced, his ears and nose super-sized.  . . . The eyes were like nothing she’d seen before, the colour of an aquamarine sea sprinkled with specks of sand, rimmed with lashes so thick Merry wondered if he was some kind of mutant with double sets on each lid.  Like many of his other features, Drover’s lips were far too big for his long, narrow face, but they were so pleasantly plump and cherry-pink they looked like a chewy chunk of double bubble.”  And he has the over-sized personality to match that physical appearance. 

It’s been a while since I’ve visited Saskatoon but I think Livingsky is modeled on that city.  I certainly remember walks along the South Saskatchewan River.  Isn’t Alphabet City an actual area of Saskatoon?  But the Holodomor memorial described reminds me of the one in Regina.  I imagine using a fictional setting allows the author more freedom so he can change details to suit his purposes.   I must say I do love the name chosen – a reference to the slogan “Land of the Living Skies” which I believe appears on Saskatchewan license plates?

The book has something for almost everyone.  There’s mystery, though the killer of the Vancouver doctor is obvious almost from the beginning.  There’s humour, often at Merry’s expense.  I love that she’s not above laughing at herself.  And there are also hints at a possible romance, or two, for Merry. 

Like several of the chapters, the book ends with a teaser so I’m assuming that this is the first in a series featuring Merry Bell.  I will certainly look out for the second installment. 

Review of TRESPASSES by Louise Kennedy

4 Stars

I’ve read a couple of excellent novels set in the midst of The Troubles in Northern Ireland (Milkman by Anna Burns and Cal by Bernard MacLaverty).  Trespasses is another title to add to that list.  It certainly deserves a place on literary awards lists.    

Twenty-four-year-old Cushla Lavery lives with her alcoholic mother in a small “mixed” town near Belfast.  During the day, she teaches in a Catholic primary school; in the evening, she helps her brother in the family pub.  There she meets Michael Agnew, a barrister who, though Protestant, defends young Catholic men who have been arrested.  Despite his being older and married, the immediate attraction between them leads to an affair.  At the same time, Cushla takes 7-year-old Davy McGeown, one of her students, under her wing.  Born to a Catholic father and a Protestant mother, he is bullied and then the family situation becomes dire when the father is savagely beaten.  Her relationship and her attempts to help the McGeowns have terrible repercussions because of the sectarian conflict.

The novel shows the brutal reality of life during The Troubles.  Sectarian hate and violence impact daily life.  There are barricaded streets, interrogations and searches at checkpoints, aggressive soldiers, beatings, bombings, and revenge killings.  People must be extra vigilant as they go about their activities.  No one is immune from the corrosive effects of constant violence:  “Booby trap.  Incendiary device.  Gelignite.  Nitroglycerine.  Petrol bomb.  Rubber bullets.  Saracen.  Internment.  The Special Powers Act.  Vanguard.  The vocabulary of a seven-year-old child now.”

Michael’s appeal to Cushla is understandable.  Besides handsome and charming, he is successful, well-to-do, and sophisticated.  He introduces her to a different world, outside her normal life of taking care of her mother who often embarrasses her with her outrageous behaviour.  Michael and Cushla talk about books and music and go to the theatre and elegant restaurants.  Of course the affair threatens Cushla’s world as well; should people become aware of her relationship with Michael, especially because he is a Protestant, she could lose her job:  “A teacher Cushla trained with had been sacked without a reference after someone wrote anonymously to the bishop that she was living in sin with her boyfriend.”

Cushla is a sympathetic character.  She feels trapped and yearns for a better life:  “Her gut burned with want.  That she might get away from her family, her mother.”  Her kindness shines through.   In her job, she is always concerned about the welfare of the pupils in her care; she even tries to protect them from the hate-filled lectures of the priest when he comes to visit her classroom.  Her efforts to help the McGeown family are well-intentioned though not always prudent.  Her mother tries her patience, but nonetheless she looks after her as best as she can.  Of course, Cushla is not a perfect person.  To ease her guilt about the affair, she avoids thinking about Michael’s wife and when she does think about her, she admits to picturing “A wizen wee hag, or some rough-looking ould doll who needed her roots done.”

There is tension throughout the book.  The reader knows that the affair will not end well.  Given the political and religious situation, an explosion of some sort is inevitable.   The crossing of invisible lines in a fractured community means there will be tragedy.  Michael tells Cushla, “It’s not about what you do here . . . It’s about what you are.”  Unfortunately, he’s wrong.  People suffer because of the group to which they belong and because of what they do, even when they act out of the best of intentions.

This is a definite must-read to understand the inescapable impact of sectarian hatred on the lives of ordinary people. 

Review of ALL THAT SHE CARRIED by Tiya Miles

3 Stars

“How do we discover past lives for whom the historical record is abysmally thin?”  This is the problem faced by Harvard professor, Tiya Miles, as she writes about the lives of enslaved women. 

The book is framed by an object:  a cotton sack given by a woman named Rose to her nine-year-old daughter Ashley just before she was sold at a slave auction.  The sack was filled with a tattered dress, three handfuls of pecans, a braid of Rose’s hair, and love for always.  Rose’s great-granddaughter Ruth Middleton embroidered this information on the sack in 1920, adding that Rose and Ashley never saw each other again. 

Genealogical research does reveal some information about these three women, but the author uses what is known about the lives of other Black women, enslaved and free, to speculate about Rose, Ashley and Ruth’s lives.  In the introduction, Miles mentions her approach of “stretching historical documents, bending time, and imagining alternative realities.”  Several times it seems that the author is guilty of over-reach in trying to make a connection.  For instance, there is a 30-page discussion of clothing and only at the end is there a direct reference to the sack:  “Rose may have hoped to capture some of this spirit when she put a dress in the sack for Ashley.”

There is a great deal of information in the book, though I found little that was new about the difficult lives of unfree women.  For instance, the reader will learn about slavery in the Barbados, the settlement of South Carolina, and even the cultivation of pecans.  The 66 pages of annotated endnotes attest to the amount of research Miles did.  Unfortunately, what I wanted – more about Rose and Ashley – isn’t there. 

What bothered me is that so much of the book is speculation.  Many sentences begin with qualifiers like ”it was likely” and “perhaps” and “maybe.”  At one point the author admits “We might or might not be in keeping with Ruth’s intentions in our haul of subterranean meanings.”  This admission doesn’t stop the endless speculation which becomes increasingly irksome.  The book is not fiction, but it is not exactly history either because of the speculation and the many examples of exaggerated symbolism.  At one point, Miles asks, “Is it too far a stretch to see Ashley as a grafter, too, attaching the shoots of her new forced life onto the strong roots of memory that kept her mother close?”  My answer is Yes.  Later, she asks, “Would it be too far a stretch for us to consider that Ruth cast her own spell, in a sense, when she metamorphized a tattered sack into a writing surface?”  Yikes!

There were times when this book reminded me of an essay written by a student who argues that every action and object in a novel is a symbol.  Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar; sometimes there is no deeper message or meaning to things.  Miles thinks the cotton sack could be a protective spirit bag.  Maybe it’s just a convenient vessel for carrying things?   The section discussing the importance of hair is interesting, but then Miles concludes that “Hair is a tether between persons . . . and also a genetic tie to the past, as we now know.  The symbolism of both meanings converge in Rose’s decision to pack her hair.  In bestowing a braid upon Ashley, Rose passed on a piece of herself while transmitting a cosmic continuity that slavery could not sunder.  Her gift might remind Ashley that she belonged – to a Black family that persevered through racial animus and a human family that had once not known it.”  Would an enslaved person whose main concern would undoubtedly have been her and her daughter’s survival be thinking about the symbolism of what she packed? 

Miles muses on the significance of Rose’s packing a tattered dress.  Perhaps this is all that she could gift her daughter because this is all she had?!  The author goes on to write that “unfree people sought material pleasures” and “Black men and women often dreamed of obtaining new clothing and footwear.  Soft clothes and well-fitting shoes that honored their bodies . . . [and] signaled their essential worth.”  Maybe they wanted some comfort and to be adequately clothed?  Sometimes the symbolism changes:  for white women, hoopskirts “symbolized femininity and luxurious excess” but for enslaved women they were “a symbolic shield for their bodies”?    

Some of the symbolism suggests the author is really stretching her argument.  Ruth used different colours of embroidery thread so Miles writes, “The brown thread of the opening lines gives way to green thread by the close, mimicking the loose form of an inverted family tree, with roots reaching back into the past and shoots fanning out into the future.”  Ruth’s red thread “signifies at once the pain of slavery and the vibrancy of the beating heart.”  Even the chain stitch used to sew the sack is “symbolic of the forced-labor ethos of the era.”  Some of the author’s observations are such that even she admits to not noticing them:  “A visit to the History Department at the University of Georgia . . . showered me with insights . . . and allowed me to see . . . that the shape of Ruth’s embroidered text may loosely resemble a heart.”  The use of “may loosely” suggests a lack of conviction. 

There is a lot of romanticizing.  After describing the domestication of pecan trees, Miles concludes, “We can surmise . . . that Black people also felt a fondness for pecans as trees.  They may have recognized the tree’s toughness in the face of assault, its adaptability to a range of habitats, and its tenacious ability to put down roots, no matter the quality of the soil.  They may have looked to the wild pecan tree as an example of how to live long with steadfastness and dignity, even in inhospitable circumstances.”

Many of us cherish a hand-crafted heirloom; I have a couple of quilts my grandmother and mother made.  My grandmother’s patchwork quilt was made of pieces of fabric from worn clothing belonging to family members.  Using materials at hand, she made the quilt to provide warmth for the family she loved.  I admire its artistry and the amount of work that went into its creation, and certain patches make me think of my now-deceased relatives.  I do not, however, speculate on what was in my grandmother’s mind as she worked on that quilt.  She used a skill she had to create something functional for people whom she undoubtedly cared about. 

Many readers will have their understanding of enslaved women deepened and that is wonderful.  I wouldn’t be surprised if the book were not allowed in some American schools because of its discussion of slavery.  Whites do not emerge as heroes, and the author takes pains to point out that economic prosperity was the result of the work of enslaved Blacks.  What bothered me is that much of the book is conjecture and guesswork with broad generalities and a lot of assumptions.  Speculating about a person’s intent and emotions is risky, and weighting almost everything with symbolism is a form of romanticization that seems as unacceptable as using the word planter instead of slaveholder to “blur or romanticize historical roles . . . and [erase] the active violence of those who bought, sold, and legally possessed others.”

This book is classified as history but to me seems neither fiction nor non-fiction.  I would have much preferred to read a historical novel imagining the lives of these women with the historical research giving the narrative authenticity.  This seems more honest than using the imagination to write what is classified as history.