Linda's Book Reviews

So Much for That, by Lionel Shriver

For years Shep Knacker has been looking forward to The Afterlife. No, Shep doesn’t have a death wish. His Afterlife consists of an isolated island or country where he and his family can enjoy a simple, sane existence. Shep has $731, 778.56 set aside for his getaway, but Glynis, his wife, who used to share Shep’s dream, seems to have lost interest in it. After years of putting his plans on hold, Shep finally decides that it’s now or never. He buys three one-way tickets to Pemba. But on the night that Shep tells Glynis that he’s leaving in a week, with or without her, she has news for him. She’s just been diagnosed with mesothelioma, a cancer cused by exposure to asbestos.

So Much for That isn’t an easy book. The details of Glynis’s battle with mesothelioma are harrowing -- as is the information about Shep’s battles with his insurance company. (And wait until you see what happens to his nest egg!) Shep also has to contend with a sister whose selfishness knows no bounds and an elderly father who sustains a serious fall which puts him into a nursing home. And he is at least tangentially connected to two medical situations concerning the family of his best friend, Jackson.

In So Much for That Shriver has created an interesting set of characters and situations (although one of the storylines about Jackson could have happily been eliminated). Will any of his characters get their just rewards? Read -- or listen to Dan John Miller’s expert narration -- and find out.

Supplementary Reading: Shriver’s taut first novel was We Need to Talk about Kevin.

The Three Weissmanns of Westport, by Cathleen Schine

Seventy-five-year-old Betty Weissmann has been married to her husband Joseph for forth-eight years. So when Joseph tells Betty that he wants a divorce because of “irreconcilable differences,” she’s stunned -- and he’s lying. As Betty and her two daughters, Miranda and Annie, soon discover, there’s another woman in Joseph’s life. Kicked out of her New York apartment and without a source of income while the details of the divorce are being worked out, Betty accepts her Cousin Loy’s offer of a rent-free cottage in Westport, Connecticut. She’s accompanied by Miranda and Annie, who are also experiencing financial difficulties. Thus, the three Weissmanns of Westport are born!

I had a bit of trouble getting into Schine’s book. Initially I found her tone to be too flippant, almost as if she didn’t are about her characters. But soon I was zipping along. Schine’s book allows for zipping because it’s pure fluff -- and she knows it. She doesn’t take her story too seriously and doesn’t expect the reader to either. So if you’re looking for a break from heavy-duty reading -- and you’d like a few laughs -- The Three Weissmanns of Westport might fit the bill.

The Unnamed, by Joshua Ferris

Tim Fransworth has a disease which no one has ever heard of. The doctors, psychologists, therapists, and other specialists whom he consults have no idea what has caused his illness. And so, despite their best efforts, their treatments are ineffective. Tim is compelled to walk. No big deal, right? But when the compulsion strikes, Tim can’t take the time to put on a coat -- or shoes. He can’t finish a conversation, even if he’s meeting with a client at work. And he can’t control the direction or duration of his walking. Then, as suddenly as it begins, the need to walk leaves Tim, and he lies down and goes to sleep wherever he may be, whether on the side of a road, in a field, or on someone’s doorstep. When he wakes up, he often has no idea where he is or how to get home. And people aren’t always willing to help him. After all, what is one to make of a man who is walking around in his pajamas during a snowstorm?

The illness which is the driving force behind The Unnamed is unique. But its repercussions are universal. Ferris explores the effects of an undiagnosed disease on the sufferer. He also examines the ways in which sickness a person’s family, in Tim’s case his wife and daughter. And what happens when one can no longer perform the job for which one is being paid? The Unnamed is not a happy book. But Ferris’s main character achieves a triumph of the spirit, which is sometimes all that we can hope for.

Losing Mum and Pup, by Christopher Buckley

On April 15, 2007, Patricia Taylor Buckley, Christopher Buckley’s mother, died. On February 27, 2008, his father passed away. In Losing Mum and Pup Buckley recounts his sometimes stormy relationship with his parents, their frequently eccentric behavior, the circumstances surrounding their deaths, and his love for them. As an only child, Buckley faced the lonely and sometimes frightening responsibility of making decisions about his parents’ final days and the funeral and memorial services that followed. Suddenly, he was an orphan!

Initially, I liked Buckley’s book very much. But about 50 pages in I began to ask myself, “Is Buckley getting a little bit whiny?” After all, he had help taking care of his parents and the money to give them the best of everything both before and after their deaths. And while I appreciated the fact that his parents were famous and, therefore, knew many famous people, I wondered if Buckley had to name every one of them. Buckley has a breezy, often humorous writing style which went a long way toward redeeming his book for me. Still, he should be aware that most of us don’t get to recover from the trauma of our mother’s death by vacationing in Switzerland.

The Girl Who Fell from the Sky, by Heidi W. Durrow

Rachel Morse, the daughter of a white, Danish mother and a black American father, is the only member of her family who survives the fall from the top of the apartment building in which she lives after her mother leaves her father and comes to live in the United States. After Rachel recovers from her injuries, she goes to live with her father’s mother, a well-meaning woman who is unable to give her granddaughter the guidance and understanding she needs, especially after her own daughter, Loretta, dies and she turns to alcohol for comfort. Rachel, who has never before thought about her racial identity, discovers that her light skin and blue eyes have made her a controversial figure. As she struggles to be a “good girl,” to find her place in the world, and to deal with what happened on the day her mother and two siblings died, Rachel makes some bad choices.

The first time I started to read The Girl Who Fell from the Sky, I stopped after about 20 pages. But I decided to try again, and the second time I pushed past what I felt was a rather disjointed beginning. In fact, the short chapters and lack of background information made the entire book a bit disjointed. I can’t say that I enjoyed Durrow’s book. The content was too dark and disturbing to inspire true pleasure. But the novel conveys the racism and racial tension of the early 1980’s and reminds the reader of the difficulty -- and importance -- of seeing beneath the surface of people and events.

Winter Garden, by Kristin Hannah

Siblings Meredith and Nina Whitson are very different. Meredith has a husband and two children. She lives near her parents and took over the running of the family orchard when her father retired. Nine refuses to be tied down. Her life as an award-winning photojournalist takes her all over the world. But the sisters do have two things in common: Their strong love for their father and their estrangement from their Russian-born mother, who treated them with a coldness which sometimes bordered on cruelty when they were growing up. However, a death-bed promise which Nine makes to her father sends the Whitson women on a journey of self-discovery which changes all of their lives.

If you like eating sugar by the tablespoon and are willingly to totally suspend your ideas of how the world (and people) work, you may enjoy Hannah’s latest novel. It was WAY too sweet -- and largely predictable -- for me! Part of “Mom” Whitson’s story seemed to have been lifted out of Sophie’s Choice, and the book’s ending was too much! Earth to Hannah: Even escape reading has to be a little more grounded in reality.

The Red Door, by Charles Todd

Scotland Yard Inspector Ian Rutledge, back from World War I but still beset by demons, is called on to investigate the disappearance of Walter Teller from a clinic where he was sent to recover form a mysterious illness. Walter eventually returns to the clinic on his own. Case closed! But by that time Rutledge has become suspicious of the entire Teller clan and believes that one of them is responsible for the murder of Florence Teller, whose husband Peter (which is also the first name of one of Walter’s brothers) didn’t come home from the war. In his spare time Rutledge is also trying to catch a young man who mugged him and whose behavior has since escalated to committing murder.

Charles Todd has a pleasant writing style. It was that style alone which kept me reading his book. The story lines were confusing and tedious. (The minor plot about the young man could -- should? -- have been eliminated). But I certainly wish I had Rutledge’s energy. He never slept for more than two hours at a time. And for days on end he didn’t sleep at all! Instead he drove back and forth across England, asking questions whose answers seemed to have great significance for him but made ne sense to me -- to all intents and purposes a one-man Scotland Yard.

Horns, by Joe Hill

After a night of heavy drinking, Ignatius (Ig) Perrish has more than a hangover to contend with. He’s grown horns! Ig expects that people who see them will be horrified. Instead, to his horror, they begin telling him their innermost (often quite ugly) thoughts. And when Ig touches people, he immediately reads their life stories. Ig’s new powers are disturbing, but they take a more positive turn when he unwittingly discovers the identity of the person who raped and murdered his girlfriend a year earlier -- a crime for which Ig has been the chief suspect. As Ig seeks revenge for Merrin’s death, he learns a great deal about himself, his family and friends, and the nature of love.

I’m not a fan of stories dealing with the supernatural. But I enjoyed Hill’s book. Despite his horns (and his affinity for fire) Ig is hardly what we think of when we hear the word devil . Instead of using his supernatural powers for evil, he does his best to use them to do good. And while Hill’s book certainly contains evil characters and situations, he seems to believe that good will eventually win out -- even if his idea of a happy ending is a bit untraditional.

The Many Deaths of the Firefly Brothers, by Thomas Mullen

When Mullen’s book opens, bank robbers Jason and Whit Fireson (known to the public as the Firefly brothers) are lying on slabs in a morgue. Are they dead? The police celebrating in the next room certainly think so. And the police continue to stick with their story even as the brothers visit their mother and Whit’s wife and son, rob two more banks, and attempt to free Jason’s girlfriend from kidnappers -- in the course of which they die (and return to life) twice more.

Stated baldly, the storyline of Mullen’s new book sounds pretty silly. People don’t come back to life! But The Many Deaths of the Firefly Brothers is more than a novel of the supernatural. It’s a story about the Depression. Mullen details the day-to-day struggles and despair of men and women who have lost everything, would do anything to get and keep a job, and literally don’t know where their next meal is coming from. Mullen’s book is also a story about heroes. For many people Jason and Whit -- who are robbing the banks that they see as the source of all of their difficulties -- assume larger-than-life proportions. Tales grow up around the brothers until they take on the qualities of mythic characters. Finally, Mullen’s novel is about the power of the imagination. He says, “We believe that there are things that are possible and things that are not, actions we can imagine doing and others that are beyond the pale. But then doors are swung and what was impossible, unthinkable, is there before us, happening to us. Sometimes we throw open the doors ourselves, sometimes someone else pushes them open and points at what lies beyond. Sometimes we don’t even want to look. But we never have a choice.” (pp. 379-80)

Supplementary Reading: Mullen’s wonderful first novel was The Last Town on Earth.

Murder: A Family Affair, by Ernie Dorling

On March 10, 1994, Anson (Buzz) Clinton was shot to death on the Rocky Neck Connector in Niantic, Connecticut. The countdown to his death began in the summer of 1992, when newly minted lawyer Beth Ann Carpenter walked into the Old Saybrook office of attorney Haiman Clein and asked for a job. Carpenter and Clein were soon involved in an affair, and Clein became so obsessed with Carpenter that he was willing to do anything to please her -- even something as extreme as hiring a hit man to kill Buzz Clinton, who has recently married her sister Kim and was taking Kim’s daughter Rebecca away from the extended Carpenter family.

As I read Dorling’s book, I wondered, “Where was I when all of this was going on?” I don’t remember any of it. The fact that the book’s events took place locally made it immediately interesting. (I have to admit that I felt a bit special because I know two of the characters.) And the situation is fascinating. But Dorling can’t write. If the repetitions and extraneous information were eliminated from the book, it would be half as long. Apparently Dorling didn’t have an editor -- or at least he didn’t have one who knew anything about punctuation, usage, and good writing techniques. I started out reading Murder: A Family Affair very consciously, but after getting through about 100 pages I realized that I’d either have to start banging my head against a wall or skim. I finished the book in record time.

Parallel Play, by Tim Page

When Tim Page was in his mid-40’s, he was diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome. Would his life have been different if he had been diagnosed when he was younger? Perhaps not. But at least he would have understood why he had a hard time making friends, couldn’t live up to his teachers’ expectations, and was subject to obsessive-compulsive behavior. And later in life he wouldn’t have been diagnosed as bipolar and pumped full of anti-anxiety medicine. Would Page have chosen not to have Asperger’s? He says no. As difficult as his life was, he believes that his illness was in large part responsible for his success as a music critic, a job at which he was so successful that he won a Pulitzer Prize while working at the Washington Post.

I was a bit disappointed in Page’s memoir. I expected it to add significantly to my knowledge of Asperger’s syndrome. It didn’t. In fact, the majority of Parallel Play could have been about any “misfit” growing up in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. (Page dropped out of school and became involved in a culture that encouraged the consumption of drugs and alcohol. However, Page’s book was short (fewer than 200 pages), and it gave a detailed picture of a troubled boy who made good.

Bright-Sided, by Barbara Ehrenreich

Americans in general are proud of their optimism. If you are someone who sees the glass as half empty rather than half full, you’re certain to be criticized (sometimes good-naturedly, sometimes not) and may be ostracized by your more positive-thinking friends. But is so much positive thinking really good for us? Ehrenreich says it’s not. Her book covers five main topics as they relate to positive thinking: Breast cancer, its (positive thinking) history, the workplace, religion, and psychology.

I suppose that your opinion of Bright-Sided will be determined by your commitment to the doctrine of positive thinking. But even if you wholeheartedly believe in turning lemons into lemonade, you may want to dip into Ehrenreich’s book. The long first section on breast cancer was inspired by her own cancer battle. (in fact, the idea for the book grew out of that diagnosis.) Ehrenreich’s tone varies from topic to topic. She is sometimes serious and sometimes extremely funny. She can also be sarcastic and, occasionally, bitter. If you’re afraid to be caught reading about a topic which is considered by many to be politically incorrect, sneak the audio version of the book (admirably narrated by Kate Reading) into your car. You may come to agree with Ehrenreich’s belief that “. . . the relentless promotion of positive thinking has undermined America.”

December, by Elizabeth Hartley Winthrop
When December opens, eleven-year-old Isabelle Carter hasn’t spoken in nine months. Although she completes her class’s assignments at home and reads voraciously about subjects that interest her, she no longer attends school. She moves silently from doctor to doctor and from psychiatrist to psychiatrist. Meanwhile, Isabelle’s parents, Wilson and Ruth, look into the past and search for the cause of their daughter’s silence as they second guess their actions.

Not much happens in December, so named because the action of the novel takes place during that month. As the Carters move through what have become their everyday loves, the reader is privy to the thoughts of Wilson, Ruth, and -- most interestingly -- Isabelle. What is the girl thinking as she watches her parents struggle with her silence? Why has she stopped talking? Will Wilson and Ruth survive their ordeal, or will the blame game get the better of them and their marriage? December is an extremely readable novel which contains a satisfying component of suspense.

I’ll Never Be French (no matter what I do), by Mark Greenside

Mark Greenside and his girlfriend Kathryn have an arrangement. They spend four months in his apartment in New York, four months in his apartment in California, and fur months apart. But when Mark arrives at Kathryn’s apartment in the summer of 1991, she surprises him by saying, “Honey, let’s go to France.” Mark is extremely reluctant to go along with Kathryn’s plan. However, when she manages to counter every obstacle that he puts up, he finds himself on a plane on his way to Brittany. Mark and Kathryn’s relationship doesn’t survive the summer. But Mark falls in love with Brittany, and, despite having almost no money and not speaking French, he soon finds himself the owner of a house in the tiny town of Finistè re.

Mark Greenside’s memoir is a light-hearted tale of how is successfully maneuvers his way through the many problems involved in buying and maintaining a house in a country which is known for its unwieldy bureaucracy and casual attitude toward getting work done. Indeed, he seems to be unusually lucky in the workmen and townspeople he encounters, who fall all over themselves trying to help him out. I’ll Never Be French doesn’t sparkle with wit, but it’s a charming story of a self-effacing man who gets lucky.

Somebody Else’s Daughter, by Elizabeth Brundage

In 1989 Nate and Cat, who are young, poor, and heavy drug users, travel from San Francisco, California, to Stockbridge, Massachusetts, to give their three-month-old daughter Willa up for adoption. On the day they turn her over to Joe and Candace Golding, Cat dies from AIDS. In 2007 Nate, who has turned his life around, returns to Stockbridge to teach at the prestigious Pioneer School, which his daughter attends. Nate has no intention of revealing his identity to Willa. He simply wants to get to know her. During his stay in Stockbridge he also gets to know Joe and Candace Golding, Claire Squire and her son Teddy (who have settled in Claire’s childhood home after the death of her father), and Jack Heath (the head of the Pioneer School). He renews his friendship with Jack’s wife Maggie, who, as a young girl, attended the school where Nate’s father taught.

Somebody Else’s Daughter deals with drug use, adultery, prostitution, animal abuse, pornography, bulimia, anorexia, the sexual abuse of women, and murder. Some might consider the novel tawdry. I thought it was disgusting and sleazy. It was also poorly plotted and inadequately written in terms of grammar and usage. There were who liked Brundage’s book. I was sorry that I wasted my time listening to it.

A Welcome Grave, by Michael Koryta
When Lincoln Perry’s fiancée leaves him for attorney Alex Jefferson, Perry gets drunk and beats Jefferson up, thus ending his career in the Cleveland Police Department. Three years later Jefferson is tortured to death, and the police show up at Perry’s door, where he has started a business as a private investigator. The police questioning of Perry is really only a formality, so he doesn’t expect to be further involved in the Jefferson murder investigation. Then Perry receives a phone call from his ex-fiancée, who wants him to find her dead husband’s estranged son. Perry locates the young man moments before he commits suicide. And then things really start to go downhill. As the police become increasingly suspicious of Perry, he finds himself embroiled in a series of events which happened five years earlier -- and he begins to fear that he will never find his way out.

A Welcome Grave, one of several books in the series featuring Lincoln Perry, is adequate, but it’s nothing special. The plot is quite complicated, the characters are hard to keep track of, and the police are presented as a pretty dull bunch who can’t see beyond their noses. A much better book by Koryta is his stand-alone mystery, Envy the night, which I previously reviewed (and gave much praise to Koryta which I’m now forced to reconsider). Still, if you like mysteries and have run out of authors, you might give Lincoln Perry a try.

Last Night in Twisted River, by John Irving

Irving’s twelfth novel, which spans five decades and moves among Canada, Iowa, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts, opens in 1954 in a logging community in New Hampshire called Twisted River. A logger named Ketchum has just broken his wrist while trying to save the life of young Angel Pope, who has disappeared under a log jam. Dominic Baciagalupe, the cook at Twisted River, and his son Daniel see the accident from the safety of the shore. But, distressing as Pope’s death is, it is another event which changes the lives of the main characters and sends Daniel and Dominic far from home.

I loved Last Night in Twisted River. Although there were a few times when the plot dragged a bit, I liked the main characters so much that I couldn’t bear to say goodbye to them. (The fact that one was a cook and the other was a writer only increased their appeal for me.) Irving’s book was funny -- laugh-out-loud funny -- even when it was sad. But Irving is such a skilled writer that he enables one to see the bittersweet humor in all of life. Last Night in Twisted River is a long book (554 pages). If you feel intimidated by its length (or if you just want a change of pace), try listening to the audio version, which is beautifully read by Arthur Morey.

The Good Soldiers, by David Finkel
In January, 2007, President Bush instituted a new strategy in Iraq. The plan, which was designed to seek out and eliminate insurgents and help stabilize Iraq’s government, became known as “the surge.” Led by Ralph Kauzlarich, the infantrymen of the 2-16 (who had been nicknamed the Rangers) headed to Iraq confident that they would carry out Bush’s plan and make a difference. Fifteen months later, when the battalion returned to the United States, the situation in Iraq hadn’t changed much, but the men of the 2-16 were changed forever.

Finkel’s book is both horrifying and compelling. He describes the daily activities of the 2-16 in great detail and portrays the men so well that the reader feels that he knows them. As indicated above, the hopes of the Rangers are not fulfilled, so Finkel’s story is not a happy one. Regardless of how one feels about the presence of the United States in Iraq, it’s impossible to read The Good Soldiers and not regret the inevitable and frightening effects of war.

Linda's recommended Christmas shopping list for booklovers

General Fiction

1. Every Last One -- Anna Quindlen

2. The Lotus Eaters -- Taytjana Soli

3. Strangers at the Feast -- Jennifer Vanderbes

4. The False Friend -- Myla Goldberg

5. Trespass -- Rose Tremain

Page Turners

1. The Blade Itself -- Marcus Sakey

2. The Executor -- Jesse Kellerman

3. Fever Dream -- Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child

4. Absolute Certainty -- Rose Connors

5. The Reversal -- Michael Connelly

Chick Lit

1. The Fixer Upper -- Mary Kaye Andrews

2. A Bad Day for Pretty -- Sophie Littlefield

3. Beginner's Greek -- James Collins

4. Dancing Backwards -- Salley Vickers

5. The Good Daughters -- Joyce Maynard

Mystery

1. The Suspect -- L. R. Wright

2. A Question of Belief -- Donna Leon

3. The Devil Amongst the Lawyers -- Sharyn McCrumb

4. Faithful Place -- Tana French

5. The Vanishing of Katherina Linden -- Helen Grant

Nonfiction

1. Gardening in Eden -- Arthur T. Vanberbilt

2. Still Alice -- Lisa Genova

3. No Wonder My Parents Drank -- Jay Mohr

4. Farm City -- Novella Carpenter

5. Outtakes from a Marriage -- Ann Leary

Super Freakonomics, by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner

The subtitle of Super Freakonomics is Global Cooling, Patriotic Prostitutes, and Why Suicide Bombers Should Buy Life Insurance, which are three of the issues which Levitt and Dubner discuss in their new book. They also cover such topics as the efficacy of children’s car seats, how to prevent hurricanes, and whether people are ever truly altruistic. In most cases, they try to tie their conclusions to the following statement: “People respond to incentives.”

As I listened to Super Freakonomics, which was admirable narrated by Mr. Dubner, I felt as though I could have been listening to one of Malcolm Gladwell’s wonderful books. In fact, Levitt and Dubner referred to a number of Gladwell’s topics from Outliers and The Tipping Point and mentioned The Tipping Point by name. I’m not aware of how Gladwell feels about such copycat behavior, but, as a huge fan of his books, I was a tad annoyed. Still, Dubner and Levitt did what Gladwell does so expertly: They wrote about ordinary topics in such a way that I looked at them from a different angle.

The Secret Papers of Madame Olivetti, by Annie Vanderbilt

Vanderbilt’s novel takes place at LaPierre Rouge, a house in southern France that Lily Crisp’s deceased husband’s family has owned for many years. As Lily relaxes and awaits the arrival of her daughter from their home in Idaho, she writes about the past on an old Olivetti typewriter and has an affair with the local handyman.

I’m not sure what I disliked most about Vanderbilt’s book. It could have been the fact that I couldn’t keep the characters straight. (Of course, if I had cared at all about them, I might have tried to remember who they were.) Or it might have been the silly gimmick of the typewriter, which mostly seemed to sit around with a shawl thrown over it. I intensely disliked Lily, 90% of whose life seemed to have been given over to selfish behavior. ( Of course, one can’t help feeling sorry for a woman whose loving husband had the terrible fault of not liking to travel. No wonder Lily cheated on him!) Most of all, I disliked the fact that everyone was so fascinated by Lily. I wanted to throw a bucket of cold water on her!

The Confessions of Edward Day, by Valerie Martin

In July, 1974, Edward Day and a group of fellow aspiring actors spend a weekend at the Jersey Shore. Edward hopes to get to know the lovely Madeleine Delavergne. His wishes are fulfilled when, on their first night at the beach, he and Madeleine go for a swim and then make love on the sand. Later that night Edward goes for a walk and leans against a railing at the end of a pier. The railing breaks, and Edward finds himself being carried out to sea by a rip current. As he is about to surrender to the ocean, he is saved by Guy Margate, who bear an uncanny resemblance to Edward When Edward gets up the next day, he discovers that Madeleine and Guy seem to have paired off -- and that Guy expects to be paid for saving Edward’s life. And so it goes. For the rest of their lives, Edward, Madeleine, and Guy comprise an increasingly disturbing triangle.

For most of The Confessions of Edward Day Martin maintained a menacing atmosphere of suspense. While I didn’t totally like or trust Edward or Madeleine, whenever Guy appeared, I held by breath. He seemed to exude pure evil. But I found the ending of Martin’s novel disappointing. It seemed to be a bit of a cop-out. And the last few paragraphs left me bewildered.

Supplementary Reading: Other noteworthy books by Valerie Martin are Trespass and Italian Fever.

Remarkable Creatures, by Tracy Chevalier

When John Philpot decides to get married, his unwed sisters, Margaret, Louise, and Elizabeth know that their lives are about to change. John takes over their London home, and the sisters move to a small house in the quiet town of Lyme Regis. Margaret, the only sister who still hopes to marry, becomes (for a time) the center f Lyme Regis’s limited social life; Louise pursues her interest in gardening; Elizabeth develops a passion for fossils, for which Lyme Regis is famous. Elizabeth soon meets young Mary Anning, who, after her father’s death, supports her family through the sale of the fossils which she painstakingly collects. Despite the differences in their ages and social status, Elizabeth and Mary become friends -- until outside forces conspire against them.
As I listened to Remarkable Creatures, I wished I knew more about fossils. Perhaps if I had been reading the book, I would have taken the time to do a bit of research, but listening doesn’t seem to encourage stopping. Still, I enjoyed Remarkable Creatures. Chevalier did an excellent job of developing the personalities of her main characters and depicting the restrictions imposed by social class and women’s roles in the early 1800’s. Unfortunately, the audio version of the book did not include the print version’s Postscript, which explained that many of the book’s characters and events were real. Nor did the audio version include the section called Further Reading. Both of these omissions were puzzling. However, the narrators of the audio book, Susan Lyons and Charlotte Parry, did a terrific job of bringing Elizabeth and Mary to life.

The Swan Thieves, by Elizabeth Kostova

Psychiatrist Andrew Marlow faces a challenge in his newest patient, painter Robert Oliver, who, while in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D. C., attacks the painting Leda with a knife. Unfortunately, aside from the few words he speaks at their initial session, Oliver absolutely refuses to talk to Marlow. How can Marlow help a person who, for the most part, refuses to acknowledge his existence? He turns to Oliver’s ex-wife and girlfriend (picking their memories in a way which he sometimes feels is unethical) and a packet of letters written by two French artists who lived more than one hundred years earlier.
Despite the size of The Swan Thieves (561 pages), I surprised by devouring it in three huge gulps. Kostova is a fine writer, so reading her novel was a pleasure. Initially I was annoyed when the artists’ letters became a second narrative thread as I wanted to stay with Oliver’s story. But I was soon involved in the artists’ lives, which were, of course, critical to the plot as a whole. The further I read in The Swan Thieves, the moe I liked the book -- and the more I wanted it to go on and on. Despite its size and complexity, The Swan Thieves is an immensely satisfying read.
FYI: Kostova’s excellent first novel was The Historian.

Benny and Shrimp, by Katarina Mazetti

Benny and Shrimp (whose real name is Desiree) meet in a cemetery. She’s visiting the plot of her recently deceased husband; he’s tending the tomb of his parents. They smile at one another, and something about those smiles set off butterflies in both of their stomachs. They meet and fall into bed together. Unfortunately, their only real tie in their sexual chemistry. Their lifestyles, habits, values, and outlooks -- and anything else you could name -- are totally different. Can this relationship survive?
Benny and Shrimp wasn’t quite the cute and cuddly book I expected it to be. The two main characters verged on the eccentric. Shrimp was totally unwilling to compromise for the sake of her relationship with Benny. She seemed to view any kind of helpful behavior as weakness. I won’t give away the ending of Mazetti’s book. It doesn’t, in fact, have a conclusive ending. But what there was I didn’t like. I already wasn’t too crazy about Shrimp. I was sorry that in the last few pages of the novel my opinion of Benny took a significant dip.

Labor Day, by Joyce Maynard

Labor Day begins on the Thursday before Labor Day and ends on the following Wednesday. The main characters are thirteen-year-old Henry, his troubled mother Adele, and Frank, an escaped convict. Adele seldom leaves the house any more, but on the Thursday before Labor Day she and Henry are out shopping for his school clothes when Frank approaches Henry and asks for help. Adele and Henry take Frank back to their house. Over the next several days Adele and Frank fall in love and Henry grows up -- and learns the meaning of jealousy.

The plot of Labor Day sounds silly. But somehow it works. In fact, Maynard’s novel is beautiful, haunting, and heartbreaking. As the plot reached its climax, I couldn’t bear to go on. So I read the book’s last chapter, and then the chapter before that, and then the chapter before that. Eventually, there was only one chapter left. But by then I was prepared for what I had known all along was going to happen.

Half the Sky (Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide), by Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn

Half the Sky begins with a story that sounds like something you’d see on a soap opera. In order to support her family, a fifteen-year-old Cambodian girl leaves home to find a job washing dishes. She’s kidnapped and taken to Malaysia, where she’s sold to the owner of a brothel, who beats her until she agrees to cooperate with the “clients.” Eventually she escapes and goes to the police for help. They arrest her for illegal immigration, and she spends a year in jail. When she is released, she is told that she will be taken home. But, when she and her escort cross into Cambodia, she is sold again. She escapes and, finally, makes her way home. There an aid group lends her the money to by a street cart. She does well and soon saves enough to buy a stall -- and then another. Today she is one of many success stories: A girl of great courage who supports herself and her family.

Half the Sky discusses three topics: 1) Sex trafficking and forced prostitution, 2) Gender-based violence, including honor killing and mass rape, 3) Maternal mortality. Many of the book’s statistics are mind-boggling: 1) Two million women go missing every year because of gender discrimination; 2) In India there’s a bride burning every two minutes; 3) Every minute a woman dies because of inadequate maternity related care.

In many ways Half the Sky is horrifying. But, as the authors point out, the book is a story of transformation. The solutions to many of the problems which women face can be alleviated by means of education and micro financing. Of course, the scope of the issues preclude a quick solution, but progress is being made. Kristof and WuDunn provide concrete examples (in the form of strategies, aid agencies, and web sites) with which you and I can make a difference.

Short Girls, by Bich Minh Nguyen

The short girls to which the title of Nguyen’s book refers are Van and Linny Luong, American-born children of Vietnamese parents. After living in the United States for nearly thirty years, Mr. Luong is finally going to become a citizen. Van and Linny will attend the swearing-in ceremony and then return to their childhood home to clean and prepare for the party which Mr. Luong has planned for the following day. Van and Linny, who are very different in looks, personalities, and lifestyles, have had little to say to one another for years. But on this visit home they carry some heavy baggage: Van’s husband has recently left her; Linny has broken off her relationship with a married man -- and she’s seen Van’s husband with another woman.

In Short Girls Van and Linny tell the story in alternating chapters, an effective technique since even as the reader is involved in one girl’s story he/she is anxious to return to that of the other. Nguyen does an exceptional job of conveying the personalities of her characters, especially that of the frail Van. She also clearly cares about immigration issues, which have become increasingly complicated in the wake of 9/11. Whether you’re short or tall, you’ll find Short Girls to be an entertaining and well-written read.

Noah’s Compass, by Anne Tyler

When he is sixty years old, Liam Pennywell, who studied philosophy in college, loses his fifth grade teaching job. To save money he moves into a smaller apartment than the one where he has lived for many years. On his first night in the new apartment, Liam goes to bed exhausted -- and wakes up in the hospital, the victim of an attack by an intruder who hits him over the head. Liam has no memory of the attack, a circumstance which he finds extremely upsetting. During a visit to a neurologist, Liam observes a woman who whispers information to the man whom she accompanies. Liam calls her the “rememberer.” Obsessed with the idea that she can help him remember, Liam sets out to meet the woman.

As I read Noah’s Compass, I waited patiently for a character named Noah to appear. Finally, on page 219, Liam and his grandson Jonah talk briefly about the Biblical Noah. Liam mentions the fact that Noah didn’t need a compass on the ark. I’ve read the passage about Noah at least a dozen times and may have its meaning figured out. Regardless, I enjoyed Tyler’s latest book, which is very low key. The last sentence of the book is heartbreaking. I wanted to weep for Liam -- and for me.

The Crossing Places, by Elly Griffiths

Ruth Galloway, who teaches archaeology at the University of North Norfolk, lives in a remote area of England called the Saltmarsh. She becomes involved in a police investigation when Detective Chief Inspector Harry Nelson asks her to examine some bones which have been found on the Saltmarsh. Nelson thinks (hopes?) that the bones may belong to Lucy Downey, a young girl who disappeared ten years earlier. They don’t. In fact, they date from the Iron Age. Galloway unexpectedly finds herself becoming Nelson’s confidant as he continues to search for Lucy. When another young girl goes missing, Galloway begins to fear that a “dig” in which she participated around the time of Lucy’s disappearance may hold the answers to what has happened to both girls.

The Crossing Places is one of those pleasing books that both provides a chilling plot and adds to the reader’s knowledge (in this case information about the Iron Age). Galloway and Nelson are an interesting duo. There were a couple of times when the story bogged down a bit, but there was also a point at which I laughed out loud.

FYI: At the end of The Crossing Places Griffiths includes the first chapter of The Janis Stone, the next mystery starring Galloway and Nelson, which will be released in the fall of 2010.

Aftermath, by Brian Shawver

Casey Fielder is the manager of O’Ruddy’s restaurant. Late on a frigid January Friday night, Jenny, the only waitress still on duty, goes to Casey’s office and says, “Those boys are back again.” The “boys” are a group of well-to-do students from St. Brendan’s high school and another from the public school across the tracks. When the two groups had gathered and fought in O’Ruddy’s parking lot a few weeks earlier, the police had been called, and a report of the incident was sent to the restaurant’s parent company. Casey had then been warned by the elderly couple who operated the restaurant that if there were any more trouble the restaurant would close. As a result, on this Friday night, Casey hopes that he won’t have to call the police. When he finally decides that he does have to make the call, Jenny reports that the phone isn’t working. And, so, events unfold. Most of the injuries inflicted on/by the boys are extremely minor. But one boy, Colin Chase, sustains extreme brain damage. Now Colin, Colin’s parents, Casey, and Jenny must deal with the aftermath of the fight.

The story line and style of Aftermath drew me in immediately. Except for Chapter 8 (which I found to be a bit confusing) I devoured Shawver’s book, which was extremely realistic in its portrayal of the various characters. The plot of Aftermath surprised me several times. And it has a terrific ending.

My Cat Saved My Life, by Phillip Schreibman

When the cat that he later names Alice comes into Schreibman’s life, she is dehydrated, malnourished, infested with ear mites, and the victim of a life-threatening hernia. Schreibman is also a mess. But his wounds are in the inside and have resulted in a depression so deep that he has no idea how to climb out. Luckily for Schreibman, Alice knows what to do. Little by little she draws him out of himself and, literally, back into the world. When Alice eventually dies, Schreibman has to decide if he is going to curl up into the darkness again or pay tribute to Alice by choosing life. He chooses the latter.

Anyone who has ever loved and been loved by a pet has experienced pure joy. Animals certainly do have the power to change lives. And Alice seems to have been a very special cat. But Schreibman’s account of their relationship becomes a bit too mystical, too deep, too off the wall for me to buy into. Also I’m trying to figure out why, after sitting with the dying Alice for hours on end, Schreibman goes out to buy groceries during the final minutes of her life.

The Big Burn (Teddy Roosevelt and the Fire That Saved America), by Timothy Egan

On August 20, 1910, a forest fire roared into the town of Wallace, Idaho (population 7,500). Wallace’s women and children had been evacuated by train. The men had stayed behind (some willingly, some not) to try to save the town. The fire, which came to be known as the Big Burn, destroyed more than 3,000,000 acres of land, most of which was part of the 60,000,000 acres which President Teddy Roosevelt had set aside as public land when he established the United States Forestry Service in 1905. Roosevelt and his chief forester , Griffin Pinchot (who had been fired by President Taft by the time of the Big Burn), worked throughout their lives to preserve land and wildlife for future generations.

In The Big Burn Egan does a masterful job of bringing to life Presidents Roosevelt and Taft, Griffin Pinchot, the powerful men who opposed Roosevelt and Pinchot, and the forest rangers who put their lives on the line at a time when fire fighting skills were in their infancy. Egan also details the beginning of the ingoing struggle between those who want to preserve our natural resources and those who have what they see as a more practical agenda.

Unfinished Desires, by Gail Godwin

On the evening of April 25, 1952, the fifteen girls who comprise the ninth grade class of the Mount St. Gabriel’s School entertain their fellow students, families, and teachers with their performance of the play The Red Nun. The play had been written in 1931 by then student Suzanne Ravenel, who is now Mother Ravenel, the head of St. Gabriel’s. The Red Nun has been modified and performed several times since its inception, but on the above night Mother Ravenel stops the performance before it reaches the end. Two students are immediately expelled, and several fail to return in the fall of 1952. Many years later the now retired Mother Ravenel is asked by some of her former students to write a history of St. Gabriel’s. How truthful will Mother Ravenel’s account be?

Despite the fact that I had trouble remembering who characters were throughout my reading of Unfinished Desires, I found Godwin’s book to be totally engaging. I use the word engaging deliberately as Godwin’s novels are not simple. If one doesn’t become involved with them, they’re impossible to stick with. I’ve been reading Godwin for many years. Unfinished Desires shows that her skills have not deteriorated over time.

Necessary as Blood, by Deborah Crombie

Sandra Gillies is a talented artist who creates fabric paintings. One Sunday she and her toddler daughter, Charlotte, set out to meet Naz Malik (Sandra’s husband, Charlotte’s father) for lunch. Sandra has an idea for her newest painting. She leaves Charlotte with a friend while she takes a few minutes to pursue her idea -- and is never seen again. Three months later Malik is killed. Scotland Yard detective Gemma James and Superintendent Duncan Kincaid (who are trying to plan their wedding) soon find themselves involved in a case which takes them from an exclusive men’s club to the heart of the Bangladeshi community to a drug-riddled white council estate as they try to solve a disappearance and a murder and find a suitable home for Charlotte.

Necessary as Blood is the thirteenth book in the series starring James and Kincaid. Some of the books are better than others, but all are well written and tell a good story. Part of the appeal of Crombie’s books is that they reflect cultural changes and trends in London and bring the reader into the center of its various communities. While all of the books in the series can be read independently, if you like Necessary as Blood, you may want to go back and read the rest of the books in order.

Committed, by Elizabeth Gilbert

Elizabeth Gilbert and her boyfriend (Felipe) are totally committed to one another. Alone in the hotel room in which they are temporarily living, they exchange vows, promising to love and cherish one another forever. The couple also vow never to marry one another. But things change when Felipe, a world traveler who considers himself to be a Brazilian but whose passport identifies him as Australian, is told that he is no longer welcome in the United States -- unless he marries an American citizen. As Elizabeth and Felipe embark on the long and tedious bureaucratic process which will allow them to become husband and wife, Elizabeth reads, researches, and then writes about love, marriage, relationships, and the man with whom she wants to spend her life.

I started reading Committed three times. The third time I told myself to just plow through the first chapter and then decide if I wanted to continue. My problem was that when I finished reading Eat, Pray, Love, to which Committed is the sequel, I had formed an intense dislike for Gilbert. I thought she was a whiney, spoiled baby whose life, despite going through what she considered to be a traumatic divorce, was much easier than that of many women. I’m still not a big Gilbert fan, but I liked her new book. It’s informative on many levels. And Gilbert seems to have gotten a handle on her faults and/or annoying habits.

Warning: If you worship on the altar of marriage, Gilbert’s book is probably not for you.

An Irish Country Village, by Patrick Taylor

An Irish Country Village picks up where An Irish Country Doctor (which I reviewed previously) left off. Dr. Berry Laverty has been offered a partnership in the practice of the eccentric but lovable Dr. Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly. But Laverty, who misdiagnoses the illness of a patient who subsequently dies, fears that the citizens of Ballybucklebo have lost confidence in him. And Laverty’s love interest is hoping to study in London for three years. Can their relationship survive the separation? As Doctors Laverty and O’Reilly see to the ailments of their quirky, endearing, and/or annoying patients, they frequently find themselves drawn into village life in a distinctly unmedical way.

An Irish Country Village is another delightful -- if occasionally corny -- visit to a tiny Irish village in the 1960’s. Taylor’s cast of characters is charming and varied. Even the bad guys aren’t too bad. Taylor’s books remind me of the old Andy Griffith shows. They’re fun to watch, but we cynics of 2010 don’t take them too seriously. We sigh and wonder, “Was life ever that simple?”

FYI: One again John Keating does a wonderful job of narrating the audio version of Taylor’s book. The next two books in Taylor’s series are An Irish Country Christmas and An Irish Country Girl.

The Vows of Silence, by Susan Hill

The small British town of Lafferton has been thrown into a state of panic by a serial killer. His victims, who are always young women, are sometimes shot at close range and sometimes killed by sniper fire. Simon Serrailler, the policeman in charge of catching the killer, is also dealing with personal issues. His sister’s husband has been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. And Simon is beginning to wonder if he is capable of sustaining a meaningful personal relationship.

Hill has written a thoroughly engaging, many stranded story filled with realistic and well-rounded characters. Although initially the switch from one story line to another was a bit confusing, I quickly adapted to the book’s fast-paced style. If you enjoy British police procedurals, Hill is definitely an author worth reading.

FYI: Previous Simon Serailler mysteries: The Risk of Darkness, The Pure in Heart, The Various Haunts of Men.

Necessary Madness, by Jenn Crowell

Necessary Madness is the title of one of the last paintings completed by Bill Burgess who, when he is barely thirty years old, dies of leukemia. His wife, Gloria, spent many years torn between the needs of her parents. Her father never got over the loss of the great love of his life, who died in an accident shortly before they were to be married. Her mother turned bitter and cold with the knowledge that she had given up her goals for a man who never truly loved her. Now, alone with Curran, her young son, Gloria must learn to live without the man who gave balance to her life. She must clutch at anything she can -- even madness -- in order to survive.

Necessary Madness is an incredibly realistic and sensitive portrayal of the death of a loved one. I was spellbound by Crowell’s book, which I read in one sitting. While I didn’t always agree with Gloria’s decisions, I understood her reasons for making them. I felt as though I were with her, living in her skin and trying to cope. Necessary Madness is a powerful story.

March, by Geraldine Brooks

March purports to be the story of the father of Amy, Beth, Jo, and Meg, the March girls of Little Women fame. The reader first meets Mr. March when, as a young man, he is wandering through the South selling geegaws to the women he encounters in the great houses. Returning home with the money he has earned, March makes a series of wise investments and is soon a wealthy man. He marries the woman with whom he falls in love at first sight, and they live happily and prosperously for several years. But then, as quickly as it came, the money is gone. Then March himself is gone, off to do his part (despite his age) as a chaplain and teacher during the Civil War.

I put off reading March for several years. I couldn’t stand the idea that someone might have tampered with Little Women, a book about which I have many fond memories. (I always wanted to be as good as Beth.) So as I listened to March, I tried to keep Brooks’s story separate from Alcott’s. I didn’t succeed. I was constantly dismayed by the fact that my little women had a father who was a terribly selfish man. I’ve always felt that one needs to be wary of zealots (of which March is certainly one). Too often they blithely expect others to live according to their passions. But, when push comes to shove, the principles driving those passions are frequently set aside. March is a thought-provoking story. I just wish that its main character had been a better man.

FYI: Brooks has written two other interesting books: Year of Wonders and People of the Book.

The Secret Scripture, by Sebastian Barry

When Roseanne McNulty, who has been a patient at the Roscommon Regional Mental Hospital for decades, approaches her 100th birthday, she feels the need to make a record of the important events of her life -- the pages of which she hides beneath a loose floor board in her room. Her doctor, William Grene, whose wife has recently died, begins spending time talking to Roseanne and investigating her background. He has learned that the hospital is going to be torn down, and he must decide which of its patients should be freed and which should be moved to another facility. As Dr. Grene tries to determine which account of Roseanne’s life is the truth -- hers, that of a priest who knew her for many years, or the bits of official records still in existence -- he learns an extraordinary truth about himself.

The Secret Scripture was the winner of the Costa Prize (probably better known to you as the Whitbread Prize). Why? Although the story was interesting, the Irish history and the conflicting accounts of Roseanne’s life were sometimes confusing. And the ending, while touching, was a bit too coincidental (and sentimental). I’m still puzzled by the novel’s title and the picture that Barry chose for its cover. Was there a religious dimension to the story (other than the role of the priest) that I missed?

FYI: The Whereabouts of Eneas McNulty (published in 1998) introduced the setting and themes of The Secret Scripture.

Life Estates, by Shelby Hearon

Sarah and Harriet have been friends since they attended boarding school together. On the surface their lives look to have been amazingly similar. When their husbands (both bankers) die within weeks of one another, the friends envision many years of shared activities ahead. But Sarah and Harriet are very different in important ways. Suddenly their friendship seems to be in jeopardy.

I really wanted to like Sarah and Harriet. And at times I did. But at other times I found them to be incredibly -- and incomprehensibly -- selfish. Their rigid, totally uncompromising attitudes toward marriage and the lifestyle choices of their children left me puzzled, angry, and dismayed. Maybe Sarah’s and Harriet’s foibles made them human. But I expected better of them.

A Gate at the Stairs, by Lorrie Moore

College student Tassie Keltjin needs to earn some extra money. She obtains a job babysitting the adopted, mixed-race child of a white couple, Sarah and Edward. But as the college semester comes to a close, Mary-Emma (called Emmie) is taken away from Sarah and Edward when a horrifying secret from their past comes to light. Tassie returns home for the summer. There, as a result of a family tragedy, she commits an act which is beyond bizarre.

For quite a while A Gate at the Stairs seemed to be about the difficulties faced by children brought up by parents of a different race. Then Moore’s novel took a turn for the weird. First there was Sarah and Edward’s secret, then Tassie’s behavior, and, lastly, the book’s odd and abrupt ending. And I can’t not mention the unusual way in which Tassie thought and acted, which were not what I would have expected from someone who was presented as an average college student. I’d like to speak to Moore and ask her, “What were you thinking?”

Evidence, by Jonathan Kellerman

At the center of Evidence is a double homicide. A man and a woman are found in a compromising position in the shell of a mega-mansion in Los Angeles. The man has been shot, the woman strangled. Although homicide detective Milo Sturgis readily identifies the male victim, the identity of the woman proves to be problematic. Nor can Sturgis find out who owns the partially completed dwelling where the murders took place. Sturgis’s investigation eventually leads to two foreign countries, another government agency, and eco-terrorism reaching back more than ten years.

Evidence is definitely sub-par Kellerman. The plot of the novel was so complicated that I felt as though I needed a series of diagrams to keep the characters and their actions straight -- especially when there turned out to be two plot lines, neither of which was particularly compelling. The characters came out of nowhere, and their behavior was poorly motivated. And speaking of behavior -- could Sturgis be getting a little too eccentric? Also, why was Alex Delaware a part of Evidence? He didn’t contribute anything to the story.

A Friend of the Family, by Lauren Grodstein

Pete and Elaine Dizinoff and Joe and Iris Stern have been best friends for many years. When Laura, the Sterns’ oldest child, is seventeen years old, she commits a heinous act which sends her first to a mental health facility and then into exile with various relatives and friends. When Laura is thirty years old, she returns home -- and dazzles the Dizinoffs’ twenty-year-old son Lucas, who has dropped out of college and seems to have no plans for his future. Pete dislikes and distrusts Laura. When she and Lucas make plans to go to Paris, he steps in to stop them. Unfortunately, Pete’s conflict with his son and his best friend’s daughter coincides with his misdiagnosis of a patient. Suddenly Pete is in danger of losing his wife, his son, his home, his job, and his best friend.

Grodstein’s writing style immediately drew me in. But her grammar needs a bit of work. (I couldn’t believe that she actually wrote “and etcetera.” Is there an editor in the house?) On the first page of A Friend of the Family Grodstein establishes the fact that Pete is going through a crisis. But suspense can be drawn out only so long before it becomes annoying. And when key events are finally revealed, they have to be well-motivated, logical, and completely explained. Ultimately, A Friend of the Family was a bit disappointing, but it was still basically a good read.

Haiku, by Andrew Vachss

In Haiku six homeless men come together: Ho, a former sensei, who believes he sent a student to her death; Ranger, a Vietnam veteran, who haunts the shadows; Lamont, a former gang leader, who has become an alcoholic; Michael, a one-time Wall St. player, who lost everything to his gambling addiction; Brewster, a schizophrenic, who collects paperbacks; Target, a young drifter, whose only communication comes when he echoes the sounds in the words of others. When the building in which Brewster houses his paperback collection (more than 4,000 volumes) is slated for demolition, the six men must draw on their strengths in order to devise and carry out a plan to save the books.

I dread picking up the paper and reading a review which praises Haiku as a brilliant metaphor for life and one of the best books of the decade. I thought it was nonsense. For the first 50 pages or so, I tried to analyze what I was reading. My brain worked really hard. But I couldn’t help but feel that Vachss was scamming his readers.