Here it is the end of July, another month shaped by inconsistency. I have been trying to write a book post for over a week, and my fifteenth draft is possibly even worse than my first. Perhaps it is time to let go of any pretentious that I can write anything more than a straightforward list. Perhaps it is time to start yet another first draft, and then hit publish before creeping doubts seep in.
Here are the books, listed in order read, no categories or cute stuff this month.
53. Haruki Murakami, First Person Singular. If you have read my book posts over the years, you probably know that I am crazy about Murakami and I will preorder just about any of his books. This is the first book that has proven difficult for me, but I can also safely say it is as much the timing of the release, and the timing of my reading that caused the difficulty. This is a series of short stories, told from the male perspective, in many ways the typical perspective of many of Murakami's protagonists, everyday, simple-appearing kind of guys who are observant and yet also isolated in some way. As is also typical for Murakami, nothing is as simple as it seems. As usual Murakami uses magical realism in a deeply psychological and almost allegorical way. This book explores the inner lives of men, and Murakami makes no attempt to state that they are representative of all men, just as it is obvious that he is exploring deeply seated feelings and archetypes. There are a three stories in which the men are so awful from a woman's perspective that female readers may have trouble reading them. I did struggle, but I also finished each one; they are worth finishing as this author is clearly not misogynistic, and these men are emphatically condemned. Although Murakami writes from a male perspective, and often from the perspective of rather hapless men with little understanding of their own selves, he clearly writes from the perspective that women are in charge of their own destiny, and have their own equally important and powerful lives, lives which are alas, often completely separate from, and sometimes incomprehensible to, the inner workings of these men's emotional states. As usual for Murakami there is a lot of music in the story, and also exploration of the strangely almost invisible way the heart and soul works. Although I struggled with the stories, mostly because I was in the middle of my own struggles with isolation, and strange interruptions in life, my own questions of meaning and relevance, many of these stories have struck with me, and I have had to read them again. Perhaps not my favorite book of Murakami's but still worth reading and owning.
54. Lawrence Block, The Burglar in Short Order is a series of short pieces concerning Bernie Rhodenbarr, who is certainly my favorite literary burglar. Some of the pieces are variations on scenes in the novels, or have appeared other places. Some were appealing, others were not. I might have preferred another novel, but this was fun and a good way to round out my collection even if it is probably of little interest to anyone but Bernie Rhodenbarr fans.
55. Tayari Jones, Dispossession. This is a short story, exclusive to Audible, and it takes a little under an hour to hear the entire story. It is about a mother reminiscing about her life and the choices she made raising her son, whom she sent away from Atlanta to a boarding school in the Northeast. Her relationship with her son is now distant, (she has been dispossessed of him) and she struggles to understand the huge divide in their lives as she reviews her own life and the choices she has made. I found it poignant and moving. Even though it is sad, I found it a powerful escape on a difficult day, and a reminder of the struggles we never see in other people's lives.
56, Ann Cleeves, Raven Black. My second foray into the novels of Ann Cleeves was as rewarding as the first, this time with Raven Black, the first of the Jimmy Perez, Shetland Island series. There is not a lot of development of Perez' character in this first novel, but there is enough that he is interesting, and although he is Fair Isle born, he also carries a sense of being an outsider, noted here primarily because of his coloring and name. I like that this aspect of Perez character is not over-developed, and in fact the idea that Perez does not come across as being particularly egotistical. He is, instead, an observer and a listener. I also like the fact that Cleeves writes this novel well from different perspectives, with the different voices remaining individual and separate. Particularly moving is seeing the events through the eyes of a lonely, confused and frightened older man, Magnus, who is seen by the community as the natural prime suspect in this murder, and in one that occurred many years earlier. That Magnus is not the killer seemed evident to this reader early on, but Magnus' story, and the way lives are shaped by lies and fear haunts the entire community in this novel. In fact I would say this is something Cleeves is very good at, fleshing out the way we let lies and falsehoods become facts, how we ruthlessly cling to these stories despite their costs, both to ourselves and the victims of the falsehood, simply because we prefer the supposed comfort of a lie than the perhaps more uncomfortable truth of reality. Highly recommended and I look forward to more novels by this author.
57. Ross I.S. Zbar, Floating Feathers. Ross Zbar is a physician and his memoir, Floating Feathers, the story of a horrific accident, how he survived it and recovered, despite equally horrific and inhumane treatment in the ICU, treatment that is all too common, and in fact standard. Zbar uses his experience and his knowledge of medicine to offer insights into the often brutal ways we treat critically ill patients, how those standards evolved, and he offers suggestions for ways to make caring for the critically ill more compassionate and humane, which would lead to greater healing.
58 & 59. Elinor M. Brent-Dyer. The School at the Chalet, and Jo of the Chalet School. Elinor Brent-Dyer is the author of a rather long series of novels for young girls, beginning in the 1920s and spanning the course of 40 years, of which these are the first two. I had not read them before, but apparently they were fairly beloved, and I might well have read them had we lived in Spain a little longer, until I was slightly older perhaps, simply because British books were more available than American ones. Therefore I was intrigued when a friend lent me the series. The setting is charming, the author creates a pleasant bubble of a world, and the characters are believable and well developed. But the stories barely hold together and I do not feel they have held up well. It is not merely the extreme ethnocentrism and xenophobia, although some of these attitudes will be shocking to modern readers, but the way people are primarily described by their "ethnic" traits more than their individual characters is disturbing. I have read other books from this era, and grew up in a time when America was far less open to diversity, but even so, at times these novels made me cringe. Also the forced jocularity and use of slang feels forced now, even though I have no idea if it actually would have at the time. My pre-teenage self might have loved these books. My oder self feels there are better books, even from this time period, which although perhaps still dated, offer a more timeless appeal. I admit that although I initially enjoyed aspects of the books, I grew increasingly reluctant to finish and I dreaded the thought of picking up a third. I returned the series to its owner.
60. Arianna Davis, What Would Frida Do? This book is billed as self-help/biography, and it does in fact mix both of these genres. I read it hoping to attend a book group at the local art museum, which, due to chemo side effects, I missed. (the story of my life lately). Davis's goal appears to be uplifting Frida. Kahlo as a role model for today's young women on how to live life boldly despite any setbacks that might occur, and to be true to oneself and one's own talents and gifts. She also offers the reader a great deal of information about Frida Kahlo's life and art, as well as attempting to set Frida up as a role model for the confident modern young woman. The style was breezy and light. In fact I initially found the book charming, perhaps a little gushy, in a girl-crush kind of way. I had no problem with this and Davis is a good writer and I applaud her efforts in writing this book. My problem with the book is that it did not appear to follow or adhere to a specific outline or timeline and became very repetitive, probably for this reason. The author would repeat the same anecdotes and stories, describe the same artworks in almost the same words, although granted she was trying to make different points. Because of my chemo-induced haze, I kept thinking, "Oh I lost my place, I already read that" but this was not the case. When I looked back, it was easy enough to locate the repetitive passages. That girl-crush sense became stronger along with a forced sense that there was just not enough material here to make the case. I grew bored, and increasingly annoyed, especially as I would read another chapter and cry to myself that the author had just said the same thing in not so different words a few pages earlier. I do think Ms. Davis made valid points and some of her analysis was enlightening. And truthfully I think the book has potential. I certainly have not written a book and admire anyone who can do so. I agree with Arianna Davis that Frida's attitude and life have much to teach us and even though I felt that this book was rushed to press and could have used editing, I hope Ms, Davis writes more books in the future.
61. Carol Culver, A Good Day to Pie. I read one of the author's previous novels, That's Amore, in May, and found it a sweet, well written and charming romance of the old school, meaning. without steamy sex. I understand that this is a transitional novel for the author, and although it was entertaining light reading, I did not find it flowed as well as the romance. But I also have to admit that I am not, generally a reader of cozy mysteries and my criticisms may be completely off-base given the appeal of the genre. Although I could easily pick out the formula, the bright young woman, talented baker of pies, smart but insecure, small town environment, various interesting characters with a grudge, it just did not seem to gel, and I felt that the author's transitions between points in the plot/formula were not as smooth as in the romance. There was a great deal of back-circling and repetition. Again, it got me through a rough day and the author is a talented writer so these kinks are probably worked out in future books in the series. There are some potentially interesting story lines here, and I like the fact that Hannah's grandmother lives in a high-end nursing home, and that the author begins to explore some of the difficulties that occur in such places. I smiled at the competition between the ladies in the bridge group. I cannot say I would not read another on a particularly difficult day.
62 & 63. Marcella Hazan, The Classic Italian Cookbook, The Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking. Two cookbooks, an older volume and a newer, updated edition. I wrote about them here.
64. C. Pam Zhang, How Much of These Hills is Gold? I adored this book. I think it is brilliant, a brutal story told with delicate realism. It is a grand tale of the west in the time of the gold rush, about Chineseness, the immigrant experience, and gender identity. In some ways this book is a sweeping, old-style Western, in others it is lyrical exploration of the meaning of home and the yearning for more, something all humans share. I like that Zhang explores difficult issues: the lives and difficulties faced by Chinese and other Oriental immigrants, discrimination, gender identity, the kind of brutality brought about by xenophobia, but she does it in a rather gentle way as compared to modern trends. This does not make her message any less powerful. This is the time of the gold rush, and gold is a constant here, both as a physical thing worth seeking, as a metaphor for greed and avarice, but also as a metaphor for the yearnings of human nature, the constant searching for the ideal of home, of love, of the meaning of life itself. Just as, apparently, one can never find enough gold, we never achieve what we are searching for. Just as Lucy thinks she has found what she was seeking and settles in, she finds that the reality and the dream do not match up; yet she stays. And we see many characters here, both immigrant and white, rich and poor, driven to search, yet also allowing themselves to believe that they have found their dreams. This is a novel about the important searches of life, which are not, in the end, about accumulating wealth. The ending is, in one sense, inconclusive. And yet I think not. We never achieve what we are searching for, we never stop yearning even though we may temporarily convince ourselves otherwise. I find the ending both unsettling, because we tend to seek fixed happy endings in novels, and calming, in that yearning itself is such an ongoing and essential part of human nature. For Lucy to own her wanting, to accept that it is, in and of itself, a part of her, is indeed a fine ending.
65. Martha Grimes, The Man With a Load of Mischief. I had never read Grimes before and I considered this an experimental read, as I fleshed out different types and classes of mystery. Grimes, an American author, writes classic British detective mysteries revolving around Scotland Yard inspector Richard Jury. She does seem to employ all the comfortable tropes that readers of the genre expect, comfortable settings, small, quaint villages, quirky characters and a sense of humor in the telling off the story, dropping steady clues to help the reader untangle the mystery, including the addition of a few red herrings. Yet I felt that plot was not a strength here. The identity of the murderer was obvious from the very beginning and although there were still details to work out, and a few red herrings, even most of the motive was quite clear well before the end of the novel. Perhaps this is the point. As I have said, I am a relatively new reader of mysteries. I did like Melrose Plant, but again, think this is not my series. I would be more likely to reread Christie, who is a master of plot. The Man With a Load of Mischief was an entertaining, if not memorable, bit of fluff.
66. Karin Slaughter, The Silent Wife. Karin Slaughter's novels are nothing like the others explored here, and The Silent Wife is no exception. This novel, the 10th in the Will Trent series, comes full circle. The first novel of the Grant County Series centers on a horrific rape and this novel opens with a prison riot and a prisoner, claiming to have been falsely convicted of that first rape, who offers to trade testimony for a chance to move to a lower security facility. The novel masterfully interweaves the two investigations and two stories, which are essentially one complexly interwoven story. The original investigation is weak and that weakness is explored, as is Sara Linton's complex relationships with both of the lead investigators, her deceased husband, and sheriff of Grant County, Jeffrey Tolliver, and her new love Georgia Bureau of Investigation agent Will Trent. This is a complex novel, and yes it is also a violently disturbing one at times.
There are admittedly times I would prefer not to know the horrific details of the crimes perpetrated against women, but I understand Slaughter's point. Violence against women is common, and often horrific, and as long as well deny this, we cannot stop it or change it. Too many many girls and women are beaten and/or raped; too many men and boys do not see the issue. The statistics are staggering. This is Slaughter's point, that violence and abuse is all too real, all too common, and although we console ourselves by saying that most of it is not "that bad" we are lying to ourselves. The continued and ongoing trauma to the victims does not fade away. The attitudes of the perpetrators do not soften, Our cutlure and our world is tainted even if we do not see it, perhaps all the more so because we do not see it. I don't fault Slaughter for attempting to shock me into realizing that the world is not the bubble I would like it to be.
Of course the other thing I read the Will Trent series for is for Sara Linton and her relationship with Will Trent. It is complex, concordant, and satisfying, even though in many ways on the surface, and in the eyes of other characters in the novel, it makes no sense. Sara loved Jeffrey Tolliver, but that relationship never really worked; it was discordant. They each loved the person they wanted the other to be, not the person they were. Will and Sara's backgrounds were terribly different, on at least one level, in that Sara grew up in a loving safe family and Will grew up in a children's home and a life of abandonment and abuse. But like so much of life, such differences are only one prism that shapes life. Both Will and Sara are phenomenally bright, bright enough to be disconnected from others, Sara was brutally raped and her life subsequent to that rape has changed her, and made her far stronger than she appears, a counterpoint to the way Will is far more vulnerable than he appears. Both have a deep understanding of the evil that lies just below the surface of life. This novel brings all this together, the relationship, the histories, the dark underbelly of violence against women in this country, the way that violence cannot be ignored even when we would prefer to put it aside and not think about it. How every act of violence, even those we write off as "minor", change us. I am not sure where Slaughter is going next. I fear that this is the end of Sara and Will, but I hope not. I doubt it is the end of Slaughter's writing.
67. Lucy Foley, The Guest List. Last among the mysteries, but far from least, is Lucy Foley's The Guest List, which is a stylish and fascinating "locked-room" kind of mystery. We have a wedding on a remote island. We are told there will be a murder. We know who the prime suspects are and the story is told from their perspectives. It is not difficult to deduce who will be murdered, although the actual murder is not revealed until the end, but the rest is a complexly unfolding puzzle. I was surprised by this mystery and liked it more than I thought I would. The plotting is almost Christie-like, although this is a thoroughly modern mystery, a mystery that explores modern pop-culture, influencers, and the secrets that lie beneath the glitz. The story unfolds in an alternating telling of "now" and "before" but the before is not always clearly delineated from the now and the different voices often overlap and become almost indistinguishable.. As the story progresses more and more inconsistencies crop up, and more odd coincidences as well, and yet the book is thoroughly satisfying, page-turning, and told well overall. None of the characters are all that likable, but I found myself rooting for the murderer in the end. A good read.
There you have it. I got the June list out before the end of July, and hopefully next month will be better.
