Novels Now

This was not an ordinary pandemic: it wouldn’t be contained after a few hundred thousand deaths, then obliterated with biotools and bleach. This was the Waterless Flood the Gardeners so often had warned about. It had all the signs: it traveled through the air as if on wings, it burned through cities like fire, spreading germ-ridden mobs of terror and butchery. The lights were going out everywhere, and now the news was fading away; systems were failing as their keepers died. It spelled total breakdown which was why she’d needed the rifle. Rifles had been illegal for years, but laws were no longer a factor. – from The Year of the Flood, page 18 of the ARC -

The year is far in the future, a time when animals are becoming extinct at a rate faster than people can document, and the level of pollution requires individuals to don nose cones in order to go outside. The government is horribly corrupt – creating weird animals like liobams (part lamb, part lion) and embedding diseases into vitamin supplements. Criminals are either executed or sent to serve months “playing” Painball, a deadly form of today’s paintball.

Welcome to Margaret Atwood’s latest dystopian novel which serves as a prequel to her previous work Oryx and Crake. The Year of the Flood takes place roughly during the same time period as Oryx and Crake, but jumps back and forth from the post-pandemic months and the years leading up to the disaster. Jimmy (Snowman) makes a reappearance in The Year of the Flood, but the main characters are two women – Toby and Ren. The novel is narrated first in Toby’s voice then in Ren’s, alternating chapters to provide significant background on not only the state of the world, but each woman’s personal story as well.

The heroes of the novel are members of a (mostly) pacifist, eco-friendly group called the Gardeners. Headed up by a Christ-like man called Adam One, the Gardeners rescue people off the streets (and from morally reprehensible lives), prohibit meat eating of any kind, document the animals being lost to extinction, and work underground to gain information about the various corrupt practices of the government. Both Toby and Ren become members of the Gardeners – Toby as a healer and eventually one of the Eves (female members who take on a leadership role in the group), and Ren who joins the group as a child.

Nobody does dystopian literature better than Atwood – and in The Year of the Flood she provides complex female characters who are faced with futuristic horrors which involve women as sexual tools for men, plenty of violence, and lots of cynicism. There is also Atwood’s signature sense of humor embedded in the story which is often graphic while exploring serious subjects such as pandemics, government corruption, and loss of our natural resources.

I love Margaret Atwood’s writing. I am always astonished by the brilliance of her prose and her ability to tell an engrossing story. But The Year of the Flood is not without its faults. I could have lived without the insertion of Adam One’s sermons and song lyrics from the Gardener’s “hymn” book. I also felt the ending was rather abrupt and left the reader wondering what the future held for the characters (in this way, it was a lot like Oryx and Crake).In some ways, I felt Atwood wrote the ending to connect the novel to Oryx and Crake – it felt a bit contrived.

Despite its faults, The Year of the Flood will appeal to readers who enjoy an engaging dystopian tale and who have read and liked Atwood’s previous work. I would be interested to see if Atwood is planning a third book in the series…and if so, where she might take her characters next.

Philosophical nothings. Yet somehow, exchanging the small terrors and joys of parenthood with Dr. Peter Kendrick did not seem like nothing. Maybe it was the gulf between their lives which, perversely, made connection seem possible. Maybe it was something else: just Peter. Either way, she had no sensible basis for believing he might phone. But she found herself dearly hoping that he would. - from Crossed Wires, page 154 -

Mina, a single mother, lives in Sheffield and works at an auto call center processing insurance information. One ordinary day she gets a call from Peter Kendrick, a Cambridge professor, who needs to report an auto accident…and something happens during the call – a connection is made. Soft spoken Peter, who laughs self-consciously, draws Mina to him in a way she cannot explain. When she later snoops into his policy and discovers he is a widower, she finds an excuse to contact him at his home after work hours. As Peter and Mina tentatively reach out to each other they discover that despite their obvious differences (not the least is where they reside), they have much more in common…most importantly that they are both parents struggling to raise their children alone.

Crossed Wires is a delightful and charming novel which caught me up in its pages very quickly. Although the story is a simple one (two people meet accidentally and develop a relationship which starts initially over the phone wires), there is a deeper meaning which radiates from the book…that of  biases and expectations impacting our impressions of others. Not only do Mina and Peter develop impressions (sight unseen) of each other which lead to some misunderstandings, but other characters also fall victim to bias and prejudice. There is a poor Irish couple referred to as “travelers” (ie: gypsies) who find it difficult to settle into Cambridge with their family because of the ignorance of their neighbors; and Mina’s ten year old daughter Sal is isolated because she is different from other children. Mina’s wayward sister is quickly judged by her family when her behavior is misinterpreted. This unexpected theme elevated this novel past a simple romantic comedy. Who among us has never been misunderstood or judged because of another’s ignorance, prejudice, or bias? How many times have relationships broken down because expectations overshadowed reality?

Crossed Wires is a character driven novel about ordinary people living their lives and muddling through; it is about connections with others and how those connections can unravel through mishaps and misunderstandings; and it is about finding someone special to share one’s life with.

Rosy Thornton has an easy style of writing and a clear understanding of not only her protagonists, but her minor characters as well. She clearly understands children – and the child characters are not only well-observed, but also lovable. The novel is set in England…and the language of the novel is very British. Given that I reside in the United States, I must admit to some difficulty understanding the descriptions of certain things…and the choice of words for various foods and activities. Despite my ignorance of British vocabulary, I still was able to easily slip into the story of Mina and Peter and enjoy this book. This is a comfort read on many levels – Thornton’s family scenes of parent and child are warm and genuine, and I could imagine the lives being lived behind the doors of the characters’ homes. The story is heartwarming and funny, and although the ending was a bit predictable, it struck just the right note for me.

For those readers looking for a light, yet engaging read, Crossed Wires is one that will satisfy. Thorton has written two previous novels (More Than Love Letters, and Hearts and Minds), both of which I would not hesitate to pick up.

Recommended.

I don’t know, maybe we’re all chaos theorists. Lovers of pattern and predictability, we’re scared shitless of explosive change. But we’re fascinated by it, too. Drawn to it. Travelers tap their brakes to ogle the mutilation and mangled metal on the side of the interstate, and the traffic backs up for miles. Hijacked planes crash into skyscrapers, breached levees drown a city, and CNN and the networks rush to the scene so that we can all sit in front of our TVs and feast on the footage. Stare, stunned, at the pandemonium – the devils let loose from their cages. “There but for the grace of God,” the faithful say. “It’s not for us to know His plan.” – from The Hour I First Believed, page 306 -

Caelum Quirk and his wife Maureen both work at Columbine high school in Littleton, Colorado – he as an English teacher, her as a part time school nurse. Their marriage is strained after Maureen had an affair and Caelum retaliated against the interloper and was arrested back in Connecticut… just before they packed up and moved to Colorado to start over. When Caelum’s aunt (who raised him after his mother’s death) falls ill from a stroke, Caelum boards a plane back to the east coast to see her. Little does he know that only days later two boys will open fire at Columbine, killing and maiming dozens. Maureen finds herself cowering in a cupboard in the library during the tragedy – and when she emerges, everything will have changed…for not only her, but Caelum as well.

The Hour I First Believed centers around the Columbine high school shootings. Wally Lamb uses the names of the actual shooters and victims in his book, but revolves this around the fictional Quirks and their families. The first half of this over 700 page book moves quickly, taking the reader through the events of that fateful day and the immediate aftermath of the tragedy. I found myself glued to the pages during this part of the novel. But then Lamb becomes rather tangential as Caelum struggles to deal with his wife’s PTSD and addiction to prescription medication leading to an accident that puts her behind bars. Caelum begins to look back and analyze his life, trying to understand his father’s alcoholism and suicide…and getting caught up in the history of his extended family  – all the way back to the civil war. Caelum’s search for understanding involves long chapters devoted to his great-great grandmother’s diary, his mother’s background and life, and a mystery involving two children.  The middle of the book slows tremendously because of these additional story lines. By the end of the novel, Lamb redeems his story somewhat – finally tying up the multiple loose ends and providing some closure for the reader.

Thematically, the story is about chaos vs. order, belief in a larger power vs. fate or chance, and how tragedy warps and changes a person through time. It also explores the idea of family connections and how they shape who we become.

I had a hard time rating this book. On the one hand, Lamb is an incredible writer who has a deep understanding of his characters…and is able to translate that understanding to the reader (although I will admit, I did not particularly like Caelum Quirk). On the other hand, the book was heavy with information. Even though a writer must understand EVERYTHING about his character before writing that character’s story, it is not necessary that the reader have all that information. In many ways, I believe The Hour I First Believed was overburdened with too many plot lines. What I really wanted to understand was Caelum and Maureen’s reaction and recovery from tragedy. I did not want to know all about Caelum’s family history. I actually think this novel could have been two novels… one a family saga, the other about the Quirks and how their lives collided with the Columbine shootings.

I don’t believe a lot of readers will have the patience to wade through this entire book without skimming. Even Lamb fans may find it hard to keep reading past mid-book in order to finally get to the satisfying, albeit melancholy end. The best part of the book, in my opinion, was the first half when he focuses in on the Columbine tragedy. Perhaps had Lamb more aggressively edited his tome down to a more manageable 400 or so pages, I would have walked away feeling more positive about the book. Not everyone agrees with me.

Marriages break up, I wanted to shout. Fathers can abandon their children, children can be left alone. There is  nothing in the vow that is sacred. There is no security – we are each of us alone. – from Looking After Pigeon, page 180 -

Pigeon is five years old – the youngest of three children – when her beloved father abandons them to the care of their eccentric and cold mother, Joan. Joan has named all her children after birds – Dove, Robin and Pigeon.

Still I believe, as I am sure our mother did, that the names we are given as children have much to do with the people we later become. Perhaps we do not really fly. It is done these days only safely aboard commercial airlines, and none of us have migrated far from home. Yet I am certain something of what our mother tried to impart in us at our birth is with us still, and always will be. - from Looking After Pigeon, page 11 -

After Pigeon’s father leaves, Joan packs up her children…with very few of their belongings…and moves to her brother’s home on the New Jersey shore. It is the beginning of summer and a new life for all of them. Each character will deal with their losses and fears differently. Joan will join a cult-like church and find a new lover; Dove (the eldest child) will look for acceptance in the arms of older men; Robin (the eldest boy) will find hope in reading the future in tarot cards; and young Pigeon will look for her father in the kindness of her Uncle Edward, and in the generosity of her mother’s lover Cary. Pigeon longs for an intact family. She misses the love of her father…and she hopes that he will one day return to her. Her habit of constructing paper families from the pictures of catalogs is heartbreaking.

I studied their faces carefully for my game; you could not just choose a person willy-nilly without consideration for their looks and disposition. For I was creating families and I did not take the responsibility lightly. All sons and daughters needed to look like their parents. They required friends of nearly the same age. Grandparents had to be older, of course, though still sprightly, attractive. And they all needed to share similar coloring and size. I had ten families already, had made clothes for them out of construction paper, and even provided them with pets – dogs and cats clipped from a pet supply firm. And although they were only made of the shiny catalogue paper, their lives were as intricate and involved as any real family’s ever were. – from Looking After Pigeon, page 102 -

Looking After Pigeon is narrated by an adult Pigeon who is looking back on that fateful summer when all that she had known and trusted disappeared. She wishes to uncover the truths of her upbringing, to gain an understanding of what happened so that she can move forward in her life and perhaps develop the trust she needs to connect with her significant other.

Maud Carol Markson’s latest novel is a look beneath the surface of a broken family through the eyes of the youngest daughter. Written in honest, simple prose…the book examines the impact of our earliest experiences on the development of our self-esteem, trust and world view. It also looks at our deepest fear – that of being abandoned and left to take care of ourselves. Who among us does not wish to be protected, cared for, and loved unconditionally? For Pigeon, security is wrenched from her suddenly and without explanation. She is often left to her own devices, to wander through the streets or along the beach alone. The adults in Pigeon’s life are mostly absent – either physically or emotionally – and are unreliable. Even Uncle Edward, who obviously loves and cares about Pigeon, is not always available to her.

Looking After Pigeon is a difficult story to read. It is not a terribly positive look at marriage, parenting or the family. And yet it is a thoughtful and intriguing book which continued to spin around in my head after I finished it. Despite its slim size (less than 200 pages), this is a deep book which I read slowly. I grew to care about Pigeon and empathize with what was lacking in her life. I found myself feeling anger toward the adults in her life who had relinquished their responsibilities and left her feeling vulnerable and lonely. Sadly, stories like this are found not only in fiction. Children often find themselves, in real life, alone or abandoned and without adults who make them feel safe. I think it takes courage for an author to tackle subjects like these in fiction. Too often readers want “feel good” novels and shy away from books like Looking After Pigeon.

Markson is a talented writer and Looking After Pigeon is an engrossing literary novel. Despite its serious subject matter, the book ends with a glimmer of hope for Pigeon and leaves the reader with a positive message – that despite flaws in our childhoods, we can choose to move forward and find joy as adults.

Readers who appreciate well-written literary fiction will want to read this book.

Recommended.

Read a guest post by the author here on Caribousmom.

I’ve always felt almost human. I’ve always known that there’s something about me that’s different than other dogs. Sure, I’m stuffed into a dog’s body, but that’s just the shell. It’s what’s inside that’s important. The soul. And my soul is very human. – from The Art of Racing in the Rain, page 3 -

Enzo is a dog – but he is not just any dog. Enzo is a philosopher and an observer of humans…he is a dog with the soul of a man. He lives with Denny Swift, a semi-professional race car driver, and Denny’s beautiful wife Eve and daughter Zoe. Enzo’s story begins at the end, and then rewinds to the beginning and works forward again. It is a simple story, really…the story of a family seen through the eyes of their dog; but Enzo’s insight into the human condition is what turns this simple story into something special. Like his owner Denny, Enzo loves car racing and he takes what he learns from the sport (through Denny) and uses it as a metaphor for living one’s life.

This is what Denny says. He says racing is doing. It is being a part of the moment, and being aware of nothing else but that moment. Reflection must come at a later time. - from The Art of Racing in the Rain, page 14 -

I must admit, I was very reluctant to read this book – not because I didn’t think it would be a great read (I heard Garth Stein speak last year at the San Jose Book Club Expo and immediately bought The Art of Racing in the Rain afterwards); but because I knew it would make me cry. And it did. Enzo is a wonderful character and his view of life, and ultimately of death, is tender and moving. Stein makes the reader embrace his characters. For me, it was easy to believe that a dog could think and feel as Enzo did…and so I internalized his story and it became real for me. Despite my tears, Enzo’s story is not all tragedy and sadness. There is joy, exhilaration and hope in the novel as well. There are many messages embedded in The Art of Racing in the Rain, but one of these seemed the most important: we are what we manifest.

Such a simple concept, yet so true: that which we manifest is before us; we are the creators of our own destiny. Be it through intention or ignorance, our successes and our failures have been brought on by none other than ourselves. - from The Art of Racing in the Rain, page 43 -

As Denny and his family face challenges and tragedy, this concept (’that which we manifest is before us‘) becomes a recurrent theme. Another recurrent theme is facing our darkest fears in order to overcome them. For Enzo, it is a stuffed zebra who embodies evil intent…and now I know why Garth Stein inscribed my book: “For Wendy, Beware the zebra!”

There are many beautiful passages in Stein’s novel. His writing is graceful and insightful. Enzo’s ruminations on life, on what makes a good human, and the state of our souls upon death…are simple, tender and thoughtful.

Here’s why I will be a good person. Because I listen. I cannot speak, so I listen very well. I never interrupt, I never deflect the course of the conversation with a comment of my own. - from The Art of Racing in the Rain, page 101 -

We could learn a lot by listening to our dogs, perhaps.

The Art of Racing in the Rain is a beautiful novel on many levels. Readers who love animals will certainly be drawn to Enzo. This is a novel about family, love, loyalty and spirituality. It is about overcoming obstacles and moving forward through tragedy. But mostly it is about our connection to others – whether they be beast or human. Those readers who have recently lost a beloved pet will find this a tough read at times, but it is worth the journey.

Highly recommended.

The young Canadian, who could not have been more than fifteen, had hesitated too long. For a frozen moment, his feet had stopped moving on the floating logs in the basin above the river bend; he’d slipped entirely underwater before anyone could grab his outstretched hand. One of the loggers had reached for the youth’s long hair – the older man’s fingers groped around in the frigid water, which was thick, almost soupy, with sloughed-off slabs of bark. Then two logs collided hard on the would-be rescuer’s arm, breaking his wrist. The carpet of moving logs had completely closed over the young Canadian, who never surfaced; not even a hand or one of his boots broke out of the brown water. - from Last Night in Twisted River, page 1 -

Twelve year old Daniel lives with his father, Dominic Baciagalupo, in a logging camp along Twisted River in Coos County New Hampshire. Daniel’s father is the cook for the loggers and has been raising his son alone ever since the boy’s mother drowned in the cold, rushing waters of Twisted River. One fateful night, Daniel mistakes his father’s girlfriend Jane for a bear and accidentally kills her. Frightened that the town’s chief law enforcement officer (a drunk with a history of beating women) will not believe their story, Dominic and Daniel flee to Massachusetts and make their new lives in the heart of Boston’s North End. What follows is the story of not only Daniel and his father, but also the tale of Ketchum – a surly, big-hearted river driver with an independent streak who remains the duo’s friend for years.

Beginning in 1954 in New Hampshire, the novel spans more than fifty years (ending in 2005) and moves from Boston to Vermont to Iowa to Colorado and finally to Toronto. As with all Irving novels, the characters drive the narrative…and Last Night in Twisted River is full of memorable characters. My favorite is the gritty Ketchum whose libertarian politics and belief in street justice (not to mention his avoidance of technology except for his beloved fax machine) make him one of the more lovable and humorous characters of the sprawling novel.

Last Night in Twisted River is classic John Irving story telling at its best. Filled with quirky characters and marked by Irving’s signature meandering style, the novel is big, lush and captivating. I have long been a John Irving fan and so I know that when I open one of his novels I must give myself up to the story and simply go along for the ride. No one tells a story quite like Irving, and in Last Night In Twisted River the story is about life with all its ups and downs, unexpected events, and relationships which surprise us. Wound through the pages of this novel is the idea of fate, chance happenings, and the idea that we cannot always map out our lives.

We don’t always have a choice how we get to know one another. Sometimes, people fall into our lives cleanly – as if out of the sky, or as if there were a direct flight from Heaven to Earth  the same sudden way we lose people, who once seemed they would always be part of our lives. – from Last Night in Twisted River, page 550 -

Last Night in Twisted River is also about fathers and sons – a common theme in Irving novels – and how parental relationships shape who we become. Daniel becomes a famous author, and Irving has a little fun with his readers by inserting a bit of himself into the character (who has a tendency to overuse semi-colons in his writing).

All that was true the cook thought. Somehow what struck him about Daniel’s fiction was that it was both autobiographical and not autobiographical at the same time. - from Last Night in Twisted River, page 230 -

Readers who love Irving’s early work (The World According to Garp, A Prayer For Owen Meany, and Hotel New Hampshire), and who were swept away by his controversial novels (The Cider House Rules and A Widow For One Year) will not be disappointed in his latest novel. In Last Night in Twisted River, Irving has brought together all his powers as a storyteller. Despite its length (more than 500 pages), I wanted the book to go on and on. When I turned the final page, I was not ready to say good-bye to the characters I had grown to love. For readers waiting for Irving’s next great novel, the wait is over.

Highly recommended.

To-Do List:

1. Take Laurie to her one-month wellness appointment.
2. Visit Galigani in the hospital, find out what happened to him.
3. Find George.
4. Interview Kiku (bring own water!).
5. Call Winter Henderson re: hippie chick alibi.
6. Read the parenting book from library.
7. Find the parenting book from library.
8. Oh yeah, diet, exercise, clean car, be good mom/wife, cook clean, and all that jazz. - from Bundle of Trouble, page 124 -

Kate Connolly is on leave from her job because she has just given birth to her baby daughter, Laurie. But her maternity leave quickly becomes complicated following a call from the San Francisco medical examiner’s office investigating a dead body found floating in the Bay. When Kate discovers the dead man is the husband of a high school friend, and then that friend turns up dead, she becomes immersed in the case. Kate does not let the lack of formal training as a private investigator deter her…and with baby in hand, she pieces together the clues to solve the case…and remove her own husband from the suspect list.

Bundle of Trouble is Diana Orgain’s first mystery novel…which I would classify as “cozy.” Lighthearted and a bit predictable, the story makes for a quick read. It veers down a different path from most books in this genre because of its protagonist Kate…whose first role is as new mother, and who gives a new meaning to multi-tasking.

Orgain writes firmly in Kate’s point of view, my only quibble was her use of questions as internal dialogue which wore on me after awhile. Although Orgain’s protagonist is certainly likable, I had a hard time relating to Kate having no children of my own – not a fault of the author, but something to consider in terms of the target audience for this book. Bundle of Trouble was a bit cutesy for me – but in fairness to the author, it is not supposed to be deep literary fiction, and I will admit to not always loving books from this genre.

Despite these minor flaws, Orgain has created an entertaining and comical debut novel which cozy-mystery lovers will enjoy. Penguin will be publishing more of Orgain’s Kate Connolly mysteries…in fact, the next book in the series (Motherhood Is Murder) will be available in the Spring of 2010.  The Maternal Instincts Mystery Series juxtaposes child development with Kate Connolly’s development as a P.I.  Bundle of Trouble represents the first six weeks of baby development; Book Two represents month two, etc… Read more at the author’s website.

And holding her hands there, as the minister spoke, he realized that love was making him into far more than he ever could have been on his own. He could have sailed around the earth in a hot-air balloon or been a scientist inside a laboratory solving cancer and still those things would have been nothing compared to what she needed him to be, compared to the vessel she was turning him into. - from The Cradle, page 110 -

Matthew and Marissa Bishop are expecting their first baby, and Marissa has decided she must have the old cradle she was once rocked in and which disappeared with her mother six years before. Matthew reluctantly agrees to locate Marissa’s mother and retrieve the cradle…but he has no idea where his search will take him. As Matthew travels first from one small town to the other on his quest, he begins to uncover the secrets of his wife’s family which stir memories of his own childhood he believes he had long ago put to rest. Set in the midwest, The Cradle is a novel about loss, belonging, love, and the tenuous threads that bind us to each other.

The Cradle is actually two parallel stories: that of Matthew and Marissa, and that of an older couple Renee and Bill who are seeing their nineteen year old son off to war in Iraq. Told from these two perspectives, the novel jumps back and forth in time and alludes to connections between the couples. It is not until close to the end that Somerville weaves together the disparate narratives and leaves the reader with a satisfying conclusion.

I was pleasantly surprised by Somerville’s debut novel. My initial reaction is that this would be a “light” read, a bit of romance, more chick lit than anything deeper. I could not have been more wrong. Somerville has a firm grasp of what makes a literary novel throb with life – strong and conflicted characters, internal struggle, and themes which delve deeply into what make us human. I found myself drawn to Matthew, a character who has been damaged and yet elevates himself through the simple act of caring about others.

The Cradle is full of hope and answers the questions: What brings us happiness? What completes us? It is not the material goods we acquire or think we need, rather it is our connection to others which brings us joy. I was deeply moved by this simple, yet compelling novel. I hope that Somerville has many more such stories to share with us.

Highly Recommended.

My interest – okay, obsession – with math is genuine, and has been since the first time I was ripped away from the life I loved. I buried myself in numbers and word problems where an answer was certain (or at least in the back of the book) and I knew I’d found something I could count on. – from The Girl She Used To Be, page 5 -

Melody Grace McCartney has been in the Witness Protection Program since the age of six, along with her parents who have since been murdered by the mob they testified against. Moved by the federal government dozens of times to small towns across America, Melody wishes for only one thing: to have a normal life and her own name. So when one night she meets Jonathon Bovaro, the son of the man who was responsible for killing her parents, she is especially vulnerable to his charms…and his promise to protect her.

And for some reason I feel free, that I have been in touch with both sides, with the light and the dark of my existence, and that I have somehow managed to find peace. Whether there is validity to this notion is irrelevant; right now, it feels valid. I’m not going to destroy it by overanalyzing. – from The Girl She Used To Be, page 48 -

David Cristofano’s debut novel is a fast-paced, compelling look at identity, and our ability to trust and love after tragedy. The Girl She Used To Be is a well-constructed novel with a complex protagonist. Melody’s journey from child victim to rebellious adolescent to independent young adult is painful. The core of the story revolves around the question of how we form our identities, and how early experiences impact our development.

I have to admit that I was not sure how I would like this novel. At times, the story felt a bit contrived – but ultimately I found myself unable to stop turning the pages. I wanted to know how Melody’s life would turn out; I wished for something better for her; I ached for those things missing in her life – a family, a person who loved her for her, a normal life. Melody is not always likable – at times she is whiny and petulant – but as the story unfolds, her behavior becomes understandable.

Cristofano has crafted an unusual novel – one of imagination and depth – which kept me interested from start to finish. Readers who like their literary fiction with a touch of mystery will greatly enjoy The Girl She Used To Be. I will look forward to reading more from this talented new author.

Recommended.

Every year as August wanes and the school year looms, New Orleans can expect to see at least one or two storms. They are as much a part of the calendar as Thanksgiving or Easter. Many people who can leave town do so, driving to Baton Rouge, or Lafayette, or Jackson or Houston, just in case the weather does enough damage to pull down the electrical grid for a couple of days. Many others choose to stay. – from City of Refuge, page 27 -

SJ Williams lives in the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans. He shares his life with his nephew Wesley and sister Lucy while still grieving for the loss of his wife Rosetta. SJ is a carpenter and takes pride in his home and community – a vibrant neighborhood where everyone knows everyone; where neighbors help neighbors.

He loved living in the Lower Ninth Ward. Its rhythm was his rhythm, despite the danger, the violence. It was their place; it belonged to the people in the Ninth Ward and they knew it and they managed as they could, and they were proud to have made lives there. No one had ever promised them, of all people, that life was going to be easy or without daily struggle, and there, at least, they took pride that it was their own struggle. And unlike in some other parts of town, there weren’t a lot of people from outside coming through to bother them. SJ had built part of it, just like his father and grandfather, and it had made him who and what he was, and it had made his parents and almost everyone he knew. – from City of Refuge, page 12 -

Craig Donaldson has moved to New Orleans from the Midwest and has settled with his wife and two young children in a desirable neighborhood. Craig works as an editor for an alternative newspaper. On the surface he seems to have it all – but there are deep cracks in his marriage to Alice who wants to leave New Orleans and return to her Midwestern roots; while Craig’s love of New Orleans lies deep within him and the city has come to be a part of who he is.

His self was invested in the city, in its rituals; he read meaning into it and it returned the favor by endowing him with a set of coordinates, a loose confederation of attitudes, and a community of others who operated under the same constellation. It was not a constellation of meaning he’d been born into; it was a refuge he’d found, a world that worked in a way he needed the world to work, a safe harbor to get away from something in himself for which he lacked a name, some emptiness, some longing, some intimation that perhaps he did not really even exist…But what if it wasn’t here anymore? Where, exactly would he be? – from City of Refuge, page 80 -

Different in significant ways, not the least the color of their skin (SJ is black, Craig is white)…the two men’s lives will parallel each other when Katrina – a devastating Category Five hurricane – hits New Orleans. Faced with an uncertain future, both men will have to decide to either stay and rebuild, or leave the city they love.

Tom Piazza’s novel City of Refuge takes a hard and brutally honest look at one of the most shameful natural disasters in American history through the eyes of two compelling characters. In August 2005, Hurricane Katrina brushed New Orleans with its lethal strength and contributed to the failure of the old and poorly constructed levee system. City, State and Federal governments were slow to response to the tragedy. The ineptness of the response played out on the national news with horrifying images of refugees dying in the Superdome, Convention Center and on the streets. Piazza reveals the humanity behind the tragedy in his beautifully written novel. Laced with the flavor of New Orleans, City of Refuge transports the reader to the days before the hurricane and the months following. In an interview printed at the end of the novel, Piazza says:

You can’t understand the kind of experience that people in New Orleans went through from an air-conditioned bus. You need to get the mud and the water and the blood all over you. So that was how I approached the material.

Piazza is successful in this effort – the scenes immediately following the disaster, seen through SJ’s eyes, are stunning, sad, and horrible. They also generated a certain amount of renewed rage in me for HOW and WHY the disaster played out as it did.

In the midst of it, with up and right and green and there and down and left and here and red jabbering incoherently, you did what you could until help arrived, whether you led a child by the hand through the ruined streets, or endured the blazing sidewalk heat in the crowd outside the Convention Center, or sat trapped in a wheelchair in your living room, abandoned by the nurse, as the water crept up around your ankles, and then your knees, praying, knowing that God never sent you nothing that you couldn’t handle, so it must have been someone else sent all that water that rose mercilessly past your lips and nose (they found you later, out of your wheelchair, under your refrigerator, which had floated and come to rest on top of you), or squatted with hundreds of others in the red haze of afternoon amid the other garbage by the side of the empty interstate, waiting for a helicopter, or a bus or a truck waiting for passage up and out to some city of refuge waiting on a strange horizon. – from City of Refuge, page 169 -

But City of Refuge is more than just a replaying of the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Piazza’s characters are carefully drawn and very human. Their story asks an essential question: What is the definition of home? It is not just a place, but a community, one’s family, and sense of belonging that develops because of the spirit of the people who live there. Many people have wondered: why rebuild New Orleans? And that question is part and parcel of Piazza’s novel. The answer is complex, but Piazza has simplified it. By showing us the people behind the tragedy – their dreams, their families, their hopes for the future – the question turns on itself. Why NOT rebuild?

But New Orleans had been the most lush garden in the world, to him, and now here they were huddled around these few remaining stalks, trying to warm themselves…It was like living in an optical illusion; from one angle the city was a ruined shell of itself, where people hung onto the wreckage for dear life; from another angle it was already coming back, insisting on not dying, full of examples of the human spirit defiantly asserting itself in the face of the worst that life could dish out. – from City of Refuge, page 306 -

Only a few pages into City of Refuge, I knew I would love this book. Piazza’s writing is honest and deeply empathetic. It is not surprising that New Orleans becomes almost another character in the novel … Piazza not only survived Hurricane Katrina, he continues to reside there. Although the book exposes the horror and sadness of the tragedy – and reveals the desperation of the people who were affected – it is not a depressing novel. Rather, it leaves the reader with hope and a glimpse into the enduring spirit of a community.

Highly recommended.

I looked at myself in the mirror. And I saw her. With each step, Margaret’s ghost expanded. Gingerly, I touched the glass. I thought of those fairy-tale mirrors that show you your dearest wish in return for some terrible price. Mirror, mirror on the wall. Your firstborn son for straw woven into gold, a glimpse of your drowned sister for something more expensive. Margaret filled the mirror and floated off the edges, and by the time I’d backed away far enough for the glass to contain her, Margaret had vanished, and there I was, wearing her hula shirt. – from Goldengrove, page 50 -

People told us we looked alike, but I couldn’t see it. Margaret was the beautiful sister, willowy and blond. The lake breeze carried her perfect smell. She smelled like cookies baking. She claimed it wasn’t perfume. It was her essence, I guessed. I was the pudgy, awkward sister. I still smelled dusty, like a kid. – from Goldengrove, page 8 -

It was meant to be an idyllic summer – a summer like all the ones before it. But when thirteen year old Nico’s older sister Margaret dives into Mirror Lake and never surfaces, everything changes. Set in New England, Goldengrove is the story of that fateful summer. Narrated in the provocative and compelling voice of Nico, the novel reveals the cracks in a family which widen with the tragedy. Nico, on the cusp of womanhood, finds herself floating free without the sage advice of her sister. Nico connects with Margaret’s boyfriend, the artistic and slightly strange Aaron – a person whom she feels free to share her stories of Margaret and the pain of loss. But Aaron is also struggling with Margaret’s death…and in Nico he sees the young woman who he once loved.

I knew the reason Aaron liked being with me was that I reminded him of my sister. I’d catch him squinting at me, searching for traces of her. I knew it, and I didn’t. Some part of me believed that Aaron liked the part of me that was Nico, whoever that was. I felt as if Margaret were a plant inside me that, nurtured by Aaron, had begun to blossom. Mostly, it was fine with me, but sometimes – usually when I was tired or lonely – it scared me. I felt as if I, and not Margaret, was the one who had disappeared, or as if I’d become a petri dish in which my sister was growing. There were days when I wanted to say, “I’m the living sister.” – from Goldengrove, page 174 -

As the summer slips by, Aaron and Nico’s relationship inches towards a dangerous conclusion … and Nico must struggle to  move from adolescence into adulthood, and come to an understanding of her own needs in the wake of her sister’s death.

Francine Prose’s novel is that of grief, recovery, and the search for one’s identity. Tender, yet realistic, Goldengrove explores the impact of suddenly losing a child and a sibling. Although the story is told from Nico’s point of view, Prose gives the reader a glimpse into the devastation such a loss has on parents.

Margaret’s death had shaken us, like three dice in a cup, and spilled us out with new faces in unrecognizable combinations. We forgot how we used to live in our house, how we’d passed the time when we lived there. We could have been sea creatures stranded on the beach, puzzling over an empty shell that reminded us of the ocean. - from Goldengrove, page 50 -

Prose does a remarkable job building her characters. Nico’s father’s relationship with his youngest daughter is flawlessly portrayed. Nico clings to her father, wants the connection with him, but also pushes him away as she discovers her own sexuality and desires. Their love of art and reading binds them together, even when everything else seems to be changing.

We were silent for miles. How strange that my father was writing the book about the end of the world, when I was the one who believed that it was going to happen. - from Goldengrove, page 164 -

I read this novel late into the night – drawn to Nico and her journey through grief.  Prose writes radiantly and with a deep understanding of her characters. If there is a flaw in the novel, it is the ending when Prose lifts the reader away from Mirror Lake and the adolescent Nico, and transports us into Nico’s life as an adult. I would have preferred the book end on page 264 – still drenched in late summer sun with a hopeful glimpse into the future.

Despite this minor complaint, Goldengrove is a book I can recommend for its beautiful writing and tender look at a young girl growing up in the wake of tragedy.

Go smiled, said, “When we see ourselves without judgment, then we’ll begin to see and accept others without judgment. We’ll turn the volume down on the external world, and we’ll see we’re all connected, we’re all same-same.” – from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 175 -

Cesar is a troubled seventeen year old, growing up on the streets of Los Angeles. His father is mostly absent. His older brother, Wicho, is serving time for the murder of two teenage boys. Cesar is fast following in his brother’s footsteps – a member of a gang whose violence is pulling Cesar into a world where there is no future. Concerned about her son, and wishing to start over, Cesar’s mother decides to move back to the small town of Unalakleet, Alaska – a fishing village where she grew up. Cesar at first believes the move to be temporary…and makes a bet with his cousin Go-boy that he will move back to LA within a year. But Cesar is unprepared for the power of his cousin’s optimism. Go-boy believes in a Good World Conspiracy…and he is ready to lead the way, sporting an Eskimo Jesus tattoo on one arm while philosophizing about the strength of goodness in their small town.

Go was the only person I’d ever known who could take a good perspective on anything, and the only person I knew who assumed I could and would do the right thing, the good thing. It was obvious that when Wicho told me he believed I would go to college and get him out of jail, he was just messing with a little kid, trying to cheer up his sorry- and lonely-ass little brother. But when Go-boy bet me I’d stay in Alaska, and when Go-boy encouraged me to pursue a hundred other interests and plans, even invited me to help him, it felt authentic. All of it. It was real. And I liked the version of myself that Go-boy saw. – from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 116 -

As Cesar adapts to life in Unalakleet, his vision of the world begins to change. Together, with Go-boy and Go-boy’s half sister Kiana, Cesar begins to envision a different future for himself.

I wrote that if we had grown up here, Wicho wouldn’t have shot anybody. There were no gangs on the tundra. Nobody was shooting to claim shoreline. Nobody was walking around town flashing anything but a wave. - from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 130 -

And when it was deep up here our boats didn’t get stuck, and when all of life’s shit landed on a single day, when the moment arose that we wanted to reach for our guns and spray a bullet or two through a couple people, instead we could drive up North River till we ran out of gas, sit on the shore, skip some rocks, and never see another person. Time was everywhere. We could wait anything out. - from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 130 -

Mattox Roesch’s debut novel is about hope born of our connectedness with others. Dark at times, the story explores the roots of despair and how easily an individual can choose the wrong path in their search for identity. Narrated in the original voice of seventeen-year-old Cesar, Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same reveals the struggle in choosing a moral path, the guilt of past actions which can not be undone, and the attempt to find meaning in one’s life.

Roesch’s prose is marked by breaks in the narrative, a shifting between past and present. This style did not always work for me, and although it did create a tension in the novel, I found it mostly annoying. Despite this, I thought Roesch got the voice of Cesar “right.” Tough and occasionally insensitive, Cesar was not always a likable character. Although the novel is about Cesar’s growth, I was more strongly drawn to Go-boy who is a quirky, sensitive guy wanting desperately to believe in the goodness of others. Go-boy’s decompensation, as Cesar becomes stronger, was a powerful aspect of the book.

I finished this book with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I loved the message of the book and the originality of the prose. On the other hand, I found Roesch’s style sometimes difficult to read. I believe young adults will be drawn to Roesch’s teenage narrator and Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same would make for an excellent book discussion. Readers looking to gain insight into a troubled teen’s thoughts will find this novel compelling.

Where is my village? Where do I live? I live on this train. I used to live in one place and I will live in another but now I live in this perfect place between the past and the future, the known and the unknown, the bad and the good. – from A Disobedient Girl, page 128 -

Sri Lanka is located in Southern Asia, an island which lies in the Indian Ocean south of India. The war between the Sinhalese majority and Tamil separatists began in 1983 and the resulting ethnic conflict has contributed to thousands of deaths. Despite a cease-fire negotiated by Norway in 2002 between the government of Sri Lanka and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), renewed violence occurred in 2006. It is against this political backdrop, spanning a 30 year period, that Ru Freeman’s debut novel unfolds.

A Disobedient Girl begins as two parallel stories. Biso, a mother of three who is fleeing her abusive husband, envisions a future of hope and new beginnings but her journey quickly becomes disastrous. As one unpredictable event after another occurs, Biso must make decisions which will have a lasting impact on those closest to her.

Such bliss is not meant to last. In my husband’s house, my children were my real gifts: the older ones had turned fear over and over in my stomach until it molted into rage, and perhaps it was that rage, that sudden fearlessness in me, that had caught Siri’s eye and brought me my youngest, the second daughter, who finally gave wings to my feet. Wings. Or rails. I am grateful for this chance, for the future, for the train that is carrying us there, its carriages full of strangers, kind to one another, kinder than anyone had been to me in my husband’s village. I am grateful for its spaces, which fill up and release people, empty of fear. – from A Disobedient Girl, page 123 -

Latha (a servant girl) and  her mistress Thara (the daughter of high caste parents) grow up together as friends. But when Latha makes a fateful decision to seek revenge against Thara’s mother, the girls’ friendship and Latha’s future is threatened. Latha is sent to a convent, then two years later returns to Thara’s home where she must deal with her own personal desires and the hope for a better future despite the limitations of class and prejudice.

Latha froze. There is was again: a proper servant. That was all they had expected of her. Despite her education, regardless of it, and her looks, she was supposed to be no more, no less. Servant. – from A Disobedient Girl, page 324 -

The novel is narrated in alternating viewpoints: first through the third person limited point of view of Latha over a 30 year span of time; and then through the first person point of view of Biso over the course of a few days. This unique technique is effective in building tension and setting the stage for a surprising twist at the end.

A Disobedient Girl examines the destructive power of secrets, betrayal, loss, and domestic violence, and the power of love to overcome tragedy. Sri Lanka is not only a source, but a destination country for the trafficking of men and women for the purposes of involuntary servitude and commercial sexual exploitation…and in Freeman’s debut novel, this aspect of Sri Lanka is revealed through the eyes of her characters who experience these dangers first hand.

Ru Freeman’s writing is stunning, beautifully crafted and powerful. She carefully reveals her characters’ desires, motivations and flaws…and in so doing, draws the reader into their stories. I found myself marking passage after passage of this extraordinary novel. One passage reads:

All my children grab my body, pressing close to me, screaming with fake terror. I listen to the echoes of other children’s voices from compartments to either side of ours. These shrieks that I have heard each time we pass through a tunnel lift my spirits. They are the sounds of childhood and innocence. When we are out of the tunnel and my children let go of me, I feel unmoored. - from A Disobedient Girl, page 123 -

Indeed, I felt unmoored at times while reading A Disobedient Girl – transported to another time and place, experiencing things which most Americans can only imagine, and feeling moved and haunted by the book’s characters…who although fictional, could be almost any woman living under such circumstances. Freeman does not spare her readers from the raw emotions of fear, anger, or desperation. But, she also allows for the hope of redemption and salvation.

Like the train which Biso boards, A Disobedient Girl moves relentlessly forward towards its heartbreaking, yet hopeful conclusion.  When I turned the final page I felt awed by the power of the human spirit which is able to survive the worst of tragedies; and the strength of people to continue on in the face of loss and overwhelming odds.

Readers who love literary fiction and who want to be wowed by a writer’s talent, should look no further.

Highly recommended.

Read a guest post by Ru Freeman here on Caribousmom.

She used to think that without her brother she would simply cease to exist. But now, as she heard her lungs gasping for air and felt the ache of her knees against the hardwood floor, she knew her body was stubborn; it would insist on remaining alive, even if her life no longer made sense to her. Even if she couldn’t comprehend the world in which she’d found herself. It was frankly impossible, and yet this was her reality now: a world without Billy. – from The Promised World, page 7 -

He never complained that he had to live his life under the shadow of always knowing what Lila could not bear to know. And whenever her pain got too bad, he would remind her of the second part of the plot, an elaborate story of the happy adulthood that he’d constructed out of thin air and taught her to believe in, too. The promised world; their lives, redeemed. – from The Promised World, page 75 -

Lila is a Princeton graduate, a college professor of English Literature and married to the gentle and understanding Patrick. But when Lila’s twin brother Billy threatens a school full of children with an unloaded gun and is killed through “suicide by cop,” Lila’s world unravels. Unable to remember any of her early childhood years and completely dependent on Billy’s interpretation of her past, Lila finds herself floating without an anchor when Billy dies. What really happened to her? What is merely a story… a contrived plot of her life? The Promised World centers around this psychological mystery. Lila must recreate her childhood and unearth both her and Billy’s secrets  in order to not only move forward, but to save her eight year old nephew from a doomed future.

Told from multiple viewpoints, the novel is an examination of memory and the power of storytelling as the characters move through grief, trauma, and betrayal. Tucker’s strength is in her characters who are both deeply flawed and painfully human. Lila is a woman who has essentially been living life like a character in a novel – reality and fantasy have become inexplicably linked. Her struggle to sort out the discrepancies of her life and hold together her marriage with Patrick is raw and believable. Billy’s wife, Ashley, and his children (William and Pearl) have also been caught up in Billy’s world of carefully constructed half-truths. Tucker easily slips into the voice of William – a child who adores his father and only wants to please him, even if it means doing the unthinkable. Although Billy is revealed only through the voices of those around him, he is perhaps the most compelling character – complex, brilliant, and deeply disturbed.

The Promised World is an unnerving novel which examines psychological survival from trauma and loss and questions how well anyone really knows another person. Tucker’s style is conversational and easy to read. The narrative is non-linear and the use of multiple viewpoints works in creating tension – the answers to Billy and Lila’s past are revealed slowly, as if in a dream. I found myself unable to put the book down by the midway point. I wanted to know the truth and I was fascinated with the psychological aspects of the story. Although dark and heartbreaking, The Promised World ultimately delivers a hopeful message.

Readers who have suffered an abusive relationship or been shattered by the suicide of a loved one may find The Promised World difficult to read. But for those who enjoy engrossing character driven novels which examine the human psyche in the aftermath of trauma, Tucker’s book is an intriguing read.

“It’s your turn,” Alexander said. When our mother didn’t respond, he repeated, “Mother, it’s your turn.”

But she wasn’t listening. Her face was turned in the direction of the sea, where the lighthouse of our ancestors had been built on the island of Pharos to the east. We were the greatest family in the world, and could trace or lineage all the way back to Alexander of Macedon. If our father’s battle against Octavian went well, the Ptolemies might rule for anotehr three hundred years. But it his losses continued…. – from Cleopatra’s Daughter, page 1 -

Anyone familiar with Egyptian history knows the story of  Marc Antony and Cleopatra – their romance and rule,  and their tragic fall in 30 BC when Octavian (aided by Marcus Agrippa) defeated Antony at the sea battle of Actium. But few readers are as familiar with the story which followed Antony and Cleopatra’s suicides…that of the life of their twins Alexander and Selene who were only ten years old when they were taken as captives to Rome. Michelle Moran’s latest historical novel, narrated by the young Selene, begins on the fateful day when Octavian marched into Alexandria and claimed it as his own. Beautiful Selene must brave an ocean crossing to Rome and readjust to a life in the home of Octavia – sister to Emperor Octavian who at one time was the wife of  Selene’s father Marc Antony until he abandoned her to marry Cleopatra.  Quickly, Moran sets the stage – introducing such historical characters as Livia (Ocatavian’s jealous wife), Marcellus (Octavia’s son who is in line to be the next Emperor), Juba (Octavian’s devoted aide), and Tiberius (Livia’s son). Moran’s novel is filled with the extraordinary architecture of Egypt and Rome, and brings to life the excitement and horror of Roman life beneath the rule of Octavian through the eyes of Selene.

Michelle Moran is fast becoming a favorite historical novelist for me. Her ability to breathe life into historical characters and transport the reader to another time  is captivating. Moran’s research is impeccable and in Cleopatra’s Daughter, the reader is treated to stunning descriptions of the buildings which were constructed, the details of the clothing of the time, and even the tension of Rome’s corrupt justice system.

We watched the soldiers escort the girl from the platform, and the eyes of the man in fur watched her hotly. She avoided his gaze, looking instead at the weeping woman still standing in the rain. Her mother, I thought sadly. Next to the woman a broad-shouldered centurion placed his hand on his heart in a silent promise. The girl seemed to tremble, then her legs gave way beneath her.

“Tullia!” the man shouted, and I was sure he was her father.

The soldiers lifted her swiftly back onto her feet, and the centurion spun around to the fat man in his furs. “I will kill you!” Her father lunged, but several soldiers moved quickly to stop him.

“Let the judices decide!” Tullia’s lawyer pleaded.

“He’s paid them off!” the father accused. “Even her lawyer knows that heir pockets are filled with this maggot’s gold!” – from Cleopatra’s Daughter, page 335 -

Moran provides an historical time line as well as a  list of characters and a detailed map of Rome to help orient her readers. Her website is also a wonderful resource (especially the interactive map). But readers will find that Moran’s prose needs no explanation. Written with authority in clear, uncomplicated language Cleopatra’s Daughter is an imaginative, beautifully constructed work which fully captures the tumultuous rule of Octavian.

Cleopatra’s Daughter is classified as a cross over between adult fiction and young adult fiction. It is certainly a coming of age tale and will appeal to young adults on that level. But it is also an intricately written story of ancient Rome…one that will captivate adult readers as well. As with Michelle Moran’s previous books, Cleopatra’s Daughter is highly recommended for readers who love historical fiction.

Miss Skeeter move her eyes back to the window, on Miss Hilly’s Buick. She shake her head, just a little. “Aibileen, that talk in there…Hilly’s talk. I mean…”

I pick up a coffee cup, start drying it real good with my cloth.

“Do you ever wish you could…change things?” she asks.

And I can’t help myself. I look at her head on. Cause that’s one a the stupidest questions I ever heard. She got a confused, disgusted look on her face, like she done salted her coffee instead a sugared it. – from The Help, page 10 -

The year is 1962. The place is Jackson, Mississippi. The issue is civil rights. Kathryn Stockett’s best selling debut novel, The Help, is narrated in the unforgettable voices of three women caught up in history and courageous enough to believe things can change simply by sharing their stories.

Skeeter is the white daughter of a cotton farmer. Despite her mother’s wish that she marry a prominent man and become a good Southern wife, Skeeter dreams of a different life for herself – that of a journalist and novelist. Unlike her closest friends, Skeeter doesn’t understand the division between whites and blacks – least of all the hypocrisy of having black women care for their homes and children, but denying them the use of their bathrooms because of fear of “disease.”

Aibileen is the black maid of one of Skeeter’s best friends, Elizabeth. Large, loving and sensitive, Aibileen mourns the loss of her son while wrapping her arms and heart around the white children in her care. Skeeter offers her hope of change – that this new generation might somehow see the racism of their parents and teachers and reject it.

Minny, anther black maid who must face the untrue accusation that she is a thief, is filled with energy, honesty and anger. Her unflagging spirit and kind heart lift her above an abusive marriage and give her the courage to join Aibileen and Skeeter in a project which will shake the racist foundation of a town whose views of segregation have stood fast for far too long.

A Dreft commercial comes on and Miss Celia stares out the back window at the colored man raking up the leaves. She’s got so many azalea bushes, her yard’s going to look like Gone With the Wind come spring. I don’t like azaleas and I sure didn’t like that movie, the way they made slavery look like a big happy tea party. If I’d played Mammy, I’d of told Scarlett to stick those green draperies up her white little pooper. Make her own damn man-catching dress. - from The Help, page 50 -

Thematically, The Help explores parenting, moral values, the many faces of racism, women’s friendships, and the power of joining our voices in a common cause. Skillfully crafted using three narrators in alternating chapters, The Help is a book which is hard to put down. Stockett is a talented storyteller who takes her time in fleshing out her fascinating and complex characters. I found myself growing to care immensely about Aibileen, Minny, and Skeeter. I worried about them, found myself cheering them on, and hoped for a positive resolution of their conflicts. There were moments when I had to remind myself that these were fictional characters, not real people. Perhaps it was the power of their stories, the reminder that less than 50 years ago what they were experiencing was part of our historical record, but Stockett’s characters came alive for me. I felt their fears, their joys, their hurts and triumphs. There are very few books which follow me into my dreams – but The Help was one of these. I went to sleep thinking of the book, and woke up wondering what would happen next in the story.

Kathryn Stockett has written an important novel about what it means to be human regardless of the color of one’s skin. Sensitive, disturbing, and ultimately hopeful, The Help is a must read book.

Highly recommended.

I was like a man, shovel in hand, finding himself standing in a freshly dug grave but with no memory of having dug it. I stayed there because at least if you’ve hit bottom you had no farther to fall. - from The Long Fall -

Leonid McGill is a man of contradictions. He has spent much of his life working for criminals as a Private Investigator, immersing himself in the dangerous world of organized crime. But he has a conscience and now wants to live a different life – one where people don’t get killed just because he can locate them. He’s an ex-boxer who appreciates fine art. He’s a no-nonsense, tough guy with a soft spot for his teenage son and a commitment to a marriage that doesn’t work. Sardonic, oddly sensitive, and matter-of-fact, it is Leonid McGill who narrates Walter Mosley’s newest novel The Long Fall.

It becomes clear from the early pages of The Long Fall that McGill has his hands full with his marriage, his errant kids, and a new job which ends up being a little different than he expected.

I still had a family that looked to me for their sustenance. My wife didn’t love me and the two out of three grown and nearly grown children were not of my blood. But none of that mattered. I had a a job to do, and more than one debt to pay. – from The Long Fall -

Mosley writes in a direct way, revealing his protagonist as a man who although willing to do what it takes to get the job done, also struggles with the choices in his life and realizes he must eventually face his demons. I did not love Leonid McGill, but he eventually grew on me. There are few characters in the book who resonated with me – McGill’s children are a mess, his landlady (who wants to be his lover) is superficially drawn, his wife is pathetic, the men who McGill “works” with are cold-blooded killers for the most part, and even his friends are not people with whom I would enjoy an evening. Because of this, I struggled a bit with this novel. I admit, I want to love the characters I spend my time with…and most of Mosley’s characters seem to have been scrapped up from the worst dregs of society.

Despite this flaw (for me) in the novel, the plot itself is interesting enough. Written like a hard-boiled type mystery, Mosley lays out a mess of a plot, and then gradually untangles it. The narrative style – conversational, direct, rapid-fire – works for the novel. The book reminds me of those old 1940s movies which start out with a guy, feet up on the desk and a curl of cigarette smoke wafting to the ceiling, talking about one dark and lonely night.

The Long Fall is the first in a planned series of mysteries featuring McGill so readers who want more will get their wish. Mystery readers who like their books hard-boiled and who want a flawed character who eventually redeems himself, will enjoy The Long Fall.

The trajectory of any life, laid out across a table, reduced to jottings in a pad, would no doubt seem both damning and inane, our imperfections difficult to justify despite our best intentions. - from Best Intentions, page 302 -

Lisa Barkley seems to have it all – two beautiful daughters with enough money to afford private school for them, a handsome husband who is a journalist, and a prestigious job. But, beneath the seemingly perfect veneer are cracks. When Lisa listens to a voice mail on her husband Sam’s cell phone, she hears a woman’s whispered voice arranging a meeting. Lisa’s suspicions grow when inconsistencies appear in Sam’s itinerary for a story he is working on, and very quickly half-truths and omissions begin to add up to a certainty that Sam is having an affair. To make matters more complicated, Lisa begins to worry about losing her job; her best friend Deidre seems to be embroiled in a dangerous liason with a photographer; and Jack, an old friend from college and Deidre’s ex-boyfriend, arrives in New York to celebrate his 40th birthday with Lisa, Sam and Deidre. Doubts, betrayal, unspoken desire, and secrets come together to ignite the unthinkable, leaving everything changed.

“Do you know the most boring thing in the world to photograph?” Ben asks as he looks over my shoulder.

I shake my head.

“Perfection.”

“What is the most interesting?”

“Duplicity,” he says. “To catch someone in the lie and lay it bare. To expose the difference between who people present themselves as and who they really are. That’s the moment you wait for. The tricky thing is that you don’t always know if you’ve captured it until you see the film.”

“Everyone has a face they present to the world. That doesn’t make them a liar.”

“Maybe not,”  Ben replies. “But it is a very thin line.” – from Best Intentions, page 199 -

Emily Listfield’s novel Best Intentions is classified as a mystery – and indeed, there is a murder and several suspects – but, at its core, the book is about relationships and how those relationships may be altered by misconception and half-truths. It is also about the secrets people keep from each other, the desires they hide, and the lies they tell – especially to those closest to them.

Suspicion crackles and pulls, nags and infiltrates, it coils around your brain, distorting your perceptions, it is the smoke you see everything through that refuses to lift. But a lie, hard and indisputable, freezes in your lungs, its ice spreading through your pores, chilling every synapse; a lie once discovered paralyzes you. – from Best Intentions, page 73 -

Listfield builds her story slowly. Narrated in the first person from Lisa’s point of view, the reader gains a deep understanding of Lisa’s fears and insecurities. This limited viewpoint works to build suspense as Lisa begins to doubt not only her marriage and relationship with her best friend, but also when she begins to uncover dark facts about her co-workers and clients.

Readers who are looking for pure mystery will be disappointed in Listfield’s book – not because it is not well written (it is), and not for lack of suspects (there are plenty)…but because the pace is slower than most mysteries. It is not until the last third of the book that the murder takes place and must be solved. Up until that point, the book reads more like women’s fiction or literary fiction with the focus on building the characters and their relationships to each other.

I like character driven novels and I was not put off by having to wait for the mystery to develop. I liked Listfield’s prose – direct, unswerving, and focused – and so I found this a hard book to lay down. I was pulled into Lisa’s life living in Manhattan, rubbing elbows with shallow and wealthy people…her tender relationship with her daughters, her self-doubt and desire for a simpler existence. I cared about her.

I recommend this book for readers who, like me, want more than a mystery. I am looking forward to reading more of Listfield’s work.

What had persuaded her to buy the house, though, were none of these sensible reasons but the thought that sprang into her mind at the first sight of the address – 41 Fortune Street – that her grandfather would have liked the name. “Straight out of Dickens,” she could hear him say, straw hat rocking. The pleasure of that image more than outweighed her own faint twinge of superstition. - from The House on Fortune Street, page 275 -

The House on Fortune Street is a leisurely novel about how our past reflects upon our future, and how our relationships with others are inextricably linked to how we integrate events from our childhood.

The book is broken into four separate parts – each narrated by a different character. Abigail  is an actress and playwright who immerses herself in loveless sex, protecting herself from the intimacy she knows may hurt her. Sean has left his wife and struggles to complete his dissertation on Keats. He moves into the Fortune Street house with Abigail and finds himself regretting his decisions. Dara is Abigail’s best friend from college. Highly sensitive, she works as a counselor and longs to find true love and start a family, but her questions about why her father abandoned his family when she was a young girl overshadow her happiness. Cameron, Dara’s father, is living with a secret and struggling to come to terms with yearnings he is unable to explain.

Early in the novel, a pivotal event occurs … and from this point onward the reader searches for understanding of each character’s motivation, desire, and fears. Livesey has given each character “a literary godparent” – an author who the character relates to and provides further understanding of that character’s personality. For Sean, Keats provides that role; for Abigail is is Charles Dickens; Dara relates to Charlotte Bronte, and the novel Jane Eyre; and Cameron connects with Charles Dodgson (better known as Lewis Carroll).

“My grandfather thought he could learn everything he needed to know about England by studying Dickens. He said everyone had a book, or a writer, that was the key to their life.” – from The House on Fortune Street, page 258 -

Margot Livesey’s prose is gentle and probing. In The House on Fortune Street she brings her story together with patience, carefully flushing out each character and putting together the pieces of their lives as though constructing a psychological jigsaw puzzle. Thematically she explores the idea of luck or chance vs. choice, and examines the role which early childhood plays in the development of our personalities. Specifically, she gives the reader a glimpse into the complexity of women’s friendships – the intimacy, as well as the secrecy which these types of relationships engender.

I found myself deeply involved in the lives of Livesey’s characters – I grew to care about them, to wonder about their choices, and to sympathize with their struggles. The format of the novel – a series of interlocking narratives – gave depth to the story which might not have happened if told only through the eyes of one character.

The House on Fortune Street is a heartbreaking tale which deals with some uncomfortable subject matter. It is not filled with action, but requires patience and a slow reading to fully appreciate. There are no sudden “aha” moments, but rather a gradual realization and understanding of the underlying message of the novel. At times I wanted to flip ahead to get to the nitty-gritty of the story, but I am glad I restrained myself from doing so as I think I would have been disappointed that there are no easy answers in this book.

Readers who enjoy well-written literary fiction will like Livesey’s style. Written with sensitivity and compassion, The House on Fortune Street is recommended.

He had no memory of a beginning – of a mother or father, sister or brother. His life was simply there, at Saint Anthony’s, and what he remembered began in the middle of things – the smell of boiled sheets and lye; the taste of watery oatmeal; the feel of dropping a brick onto a piece of stone, watching the red pieces split off, then using those broken shards to write on the wall of the monastery, and being slapped for this, and being forced to wash the dust away with a cold, wet rag. – from The Good Thief, page 4 -

Ren, missing a hand,  has lived for eleven years at an orphanage in New England – a place where children are whipped for infractions and schooled in Catholic doctrine. His friendships are few and his questions are many. Then one day a man named Benjamin Nab arrives at Saint Anthony’s claiming to be Ren’s brother. His wild stories convince the authorities at the orphanage to let Benjamin adopt Ren – and thus begins Ren’s second life filled with grave robbery, violence, and lies. Along the way, Ren makes friends with a paid assassin, a dwarf, a landlady who has a heart of gold, a nun, and a drunkard. He also begins to uncover the mystery surrounding his birth.

The Good Thief is a fast read and filled with unexpected events and excitement. Hannah Tinti’s story is a bit Dickensonian, but with more violence. Ren’s character is likable (he is the good thief, in case you were wondering)…he wants to do good, but is forced to lie and steal to survive. The writing in the novel is clean and vivid.

But, despite these strengths, I did not really enjoy this book. At times I felt the plot was too contrived, and the violence overdone and gratuitous. The number of evil characters in the novel turned me off a bit. I found myself wanting a better life for Ren and wondering if there were any loving adults in his world. Luckily, Mrs. Sand (the landlady) ends up being someone who provides the love Ren has never known. And although Tinti redeems some of her “bad” characters,  the novel overall was just too dark and depressing.

Many readers liked The Good Thief – in fact, it has won a host of awards including:

When I read through that list, I wonder if I was just not in the mood for this book at the time I read it. Reader’s who like fast-paced fiction and are not overly disturbed by graphic violence, might give this one a try.

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