Worth Checking Out

"I've never known any trouble than an hour's reading didn't assuage."

                                                             ~   Arthur Schopenhauer

Here are three novels that have not only assuaged any trouble or concern I may have had these past months, but they also engaged me for far more than an hour at a time - one of my criteria for a good book.

The Nature of the Beast: A Chief Inspector Gamache Novel by Louise Penny. c2015
This is the 11th installment in the series about the Canadian Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, now retired to the tiny village of Three Pines - and one of my favorite in the series. (I could not put it down, read it in one day.) The story line is based on a true episode in Canadian history which makes the rising threat in the novel even more believably threatening.

Penny must love this quirky cast of characters she has created, for they grow in depth and complexity, with talents and foibles, strengths and secrets, while maintaining the core of consistency one finds in decade-old friendships.  Above all, Penny is a skilled writer who combines intricate, multi-layered plots, as well as rich character development, with vivid imagery.  She, like P.D. James or Ruth Rundell, is a writer of mysteries, rather than a mystery writer.

You do not need to have read the previous novels to become engrossed in The Nature of the Beast.  But had I not, I would immediately have bought the first in the series, Still Life.


All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr. c2014
I have to admit that I would not have read this book were it not one my book club's selections for the summer- not another World War II novel?!  And what a loss that would have been.

On one level, this is the story of a blind French girl and a German boy whose lives collide in occupied France.  Their stories are told in alternating chapters that also shift back and forth in time, providing a framework for lessons about the brain and blindness, about art and light waves we cannot see, about courage and brain washing.  And a different kind of World War ll novel, centered around the impact on the lives of children rather than battles and strategy. blood and despair.

But for all the depth of story, all the lessons learned, what I loved most about this work was Doerr's stunning use of physical detail and gorgeous metaphors.  This is a book to read slowly, to savor, to marvel at and to read again.


Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner. cl971
I discovered Wallace Stegner late in life, again thanks to my book club.  Have meant to read this for the last 5 years, but it took a friend, whose recommendations I value, telling me that this is her "very favorite novel", one she revisits every few years, to motivate me to finally pick it up.

I was hooked within the first three pages.  Hooked by the promise of fascinating characters, an intricate plot, a deeper understanding of the history of the West (I am a transplanted Mid-westerner) and the exploration of some personal questions that I am currently pondering, and some of the most beautiful writing I have ever read.  I wasn't disappointed.

Angle of Repose explores several themes in its story within a story. First,  it is a complex, compassionate examination of marriage  and the angle of repose - "the angle at which two lines prop each other up, the leaning together from the vertical which produces the false arch.  For lack of a keystone, the false arch may be as much as one can expect in this life. " As Lyman Ward, a disabled, divorced professor chooses to explore his grandparents' enduring marriage, he naturally explores his own life, his failed marriage, the kind of man he has become and might yet become.

But along the way, it is also of story of youthful hopes and expectations, disappointments and loss, reality vs. myth.  Seamlessly woven into a gorgeous piece of writing, well deserving of the Pulitzer, worth checking out, if you've not read it.  Worth reading more than once.

The Last Gift of Time

"Women, I believe, search for fellow beings who have faced similar struggles, conveyed them in ways a reader can transform into her own life, confirmed desires the reader had hardly acknowledged - desires that now seem possible.  Women catch courage from the women whose lives and writings they read and women call the bearer of that courage friend."

~ Carolyn Heilbrun

The Last Gift of Time:Life Beyond Sixty

I have been fortunate to acquire a few such friends along the way, often by accident - Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Tristine Rainer, Judith Cameron, Natalie Goldberg.  Heilbrun is the most recent; somehow I missed her until recently when The Last Gift of Time was lent to me by a friend to whom I'd shared my interest in reading about aging. This book, she said, was a must to read, a classic, a favorite of hers and of her mother before her. I wasn't 20 pages into the book when I knew I wanted my own copy. 

Although I am close in age to the age at which Heilbrun wrote the book, I did not identify easily with her at the outset, the particulars of our lives being quite different.  Heilbrun was a distinguished author and critic, a professor at Colombia for over 30 years, a single child of upper class Jewish parents, a mother and grandmother, well-traveled, well-known.  And I - the eldest daughter of working class Sicilian-Americans, a Mid-westerner at heart, educator, small business owner, no children - in so many ways, an ordinary woman. 

As the book unfolded, however, as Heilbrun shared her insights and opinions about men, marriage, memory, time, mortality, I felt I'd come across a kindred spirit.  When she described her despair over the state of our society, I became her hallelujah choir.  When she declared a woman could be a feminist without hating men, I knew I'd found another friend (Heilbrun calls such a friend "unmet").  And when she asserted that to remain vital beyond sixty, one needs to pursue an undertaking that "requires strong effort and the evidence of growing proficiency", I knew this to be another one of those right books at the right time that I cherish.

What sealed my conviction that I'd found another friend was the sense of recognition when I discovered that Heilbrun had written a mystery series under the pseudonym of Amanda Cross, a series I had devoured years ago.  And the sense of loss and sadness when I learned that Heilbrun had committed suicide only seven years after the publication of The Last Gift of Time.

I recognize that some younger readers may find this book to be dated; after all, it was written over 20 years ago.  But I hope they will explore it anyway, if only to appreciate the challenges and contributions of feminists of Heilbrun's era.  And to get a taste of her writing style.  Crisp, clear, intelligent, uncompromising, with an irreverence I found particularly appealing.  

My copy arrived in the mail yesterday.  I intend to reread it soon, to take more time to savor the writing, to reflect more carefully, to appreciate that I came upon this gift, now that I am beyond sixty.

I Recommend....

"My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?” 

                                                                                                                       Dr. Seuss     

In the last years of my mother's life, she often said that it seemed she was reading the Sunday paper every day, so quickly was time passing by.  I'm not quite at that point yet, but the quick passage of time has been brought home to me repeatedly in recent months...my 74th birthday, my "baby" brother's 70th, our 32nd wedding anniversary. the 40th birthday of a young man I would have sworn was only 25.  And returning to this blog to discover I haven't posted in almost a year to the day!

I have been reading, honestly!  In fact, two or three books some weeks.  Mystery, historical narrative, psychology, e-books, paperbacks.   Book club selections, books I've enjoyed, books I haven't finished - but none that I've felt compelled to share until recently.  None that I couldn't wait to recommend to friend, family, even strangers, until recently.

Therefore, after a longer hiatus than I had planned, here are four books that I have been recommending, even extolling whenever and wherever I've had the opportunity.

Flourish by Martin E. P. Seligman    NF c2013

Seligman, considered by some as the father of Positive Psychology, has continued his work on resiliency, learned optimism and most recently, what he refers to as well-being.  A champion of learning from what works and from healthy practices rather than illness and disease, Seligman combines research and application and presents his findings here with clarity and - optimism.

I almost cheered when I read that Seligman "detests" the word happiness because it's become so overused as to become meaningless...the way I also have come to feel about the word "deserve".

Focusing on well-being and its five pillars of positive emotion, engagement, positive relationship, meaning and accomplishment, Seligman asserts, is what makes for the good life.  And he supports his assertions with academic studies as well as anecdotal stories.

An Oldie, But a Goodie!

Every now and then I want a simple, straightforward, old-fashioned mystery.  No psychological twists and turns. No blood and gore.  No complicated plot.  No need to look up a word or try to infer the meaning of a foreign phrase.  In short, an Agatha Christie novel.

0ver the years I have read every Hercule Poirot novel, and once the  PBS TV series was aired, I read them again, now able to visualize that wonderful actor, David Suchet, who brought every idiosyncratic Poirot mannerism to life.

For some reason, however, I have not read many of the Miss Jane Marple series.. This past weekend I renewed acquaintances with the somewhat eccentric spinster who comes from the little village of St. Mary Mead and is initially perceived as just a sweet little old lady, everyone's maiden aunt.   A sweet little old lady whose keen powers of observation, and understanding and basic distrust of human nature make her a most unlikely detective. A shrewd and dogged detective.

A Pocket Full of Rye, one of the seven using a nursery rhyme theme, is vintage Agatha Christie. Plenty of singular British characters, a murder to be solved (in this novel there are three, no less), sufficient clues to test the readers sleuthing skills without resorting to frivolous red herrings, an intelligent vocabulary, reasonable dialogue and a conclusion that is logical and congruent.  The comfort food of mysteries.

Recently PBS aired a documentary about three researchers who attempted to analyze Agatha Christie's prolific body of work - 66 novels and 14 short story collections.  Any Christie fan would find it interesting.  In the meantime, Wikipedia does a good job of presenting some of the same information.

Although I've given up my one time summer goal of reading the entire Christie library, I did enjoy A Pocket Full of Rye.  I think I'll spend some time becoming better acquainted with the old gal.

Beastly Things ~ by Donna Leon

If you've read any of my other postings, you know I enjoy mysteries.  Not just any mysteries, however. For the most part, I prefer those written by a handful of European and Canadian authors. And one of  my  favorites is Donna Leon.

I recently was pleased to read a review of her work in which Leon is described as a literary crime novelist.  The label elevates her beyond the stereotypical image of a mystery writer.  And rightly so -no mere whodunits here, no simple formulaic plots, or two-dimensional characters. No red herrings. Leon's protagonist, Guido Brunetti, is a compassionate, ethical, and intelligent man whose complex personality has been developed over this series that now numbers 20 novels.  Developed not only in Leon's rich and layered descriptions of his thinking and behavior over time, but through his relationships with the cast of multi-dimensional supporting characters that populate the series.

The label is also appropriate because Leon is a talented and skillful writer.  Her metaphors are striking, her sense of humor delightful, her descriptions of Venice, whether of the city itself, its history, culture, or politics, intriguing.  Were the subject not crime, she most certainly would be found on fiction shelves, not mystery.

But what I most appreciate about Leon is her expectation that her readers are curious, intelligent and open to new information and attitudes. Both Guido and his wife, Paola, are inveterate readers - Guido, an aficionado of classic Greek and Roman historians and Paola, a professor of English literature who loves Henry James. 

Additionally, each of the novels explores a social and/or environmental issue - issues that impact not only Italy,  but, it could be argued, other nations as well- pollution, illegal immigration, racism, child prostitution, political corruption, etc., etc. In Beastly Things the issue is graft, corruption, and unhealthy practices in a slaughterhouse...and the consequences.  Although Leon has definite opinions, she manages to present them in the context of the story line.  Heads up - the description of the slaughterhouse practices may be enough to make a vegetarian of any reader!

If you have read Leon in the past, but haven't kept up, you can jump in here.  If you have never read her,  I recommend you start at the beginning of the series with Death at La Fenice and get a proper introduction to Guido Brunetti,  his family and colleagues, and the remarkable city of Venice.

If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him by Sheldon B. Kopp

"Learn to forgive yourself, again and again and again...."'
Sheldon B. Kopp

A few months ago while culling my bookshelves for a library donation, I decided to devote one shelf to the non-fiction books that have inspired me most over the years, books I've reread and cherish and couldn't donate anyway  because they're underlined, highlighted, and contain questions and a few expletives. 

The first book I selected was If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him: The Pilgrimage of Psychotherapy Patients by Sheldon Kopp, psychotherapist and author.  I first read it in l978 (it was published in l972).  Still struggling with the aftermath of a painful divorce, I was weary of my whining and decided that it was time to quit the pity party.  I began reading every self-help book I could get my hands on. If you were around in the 70's, you know that was a slew of books.  Of all of them, only Kopp's book and The New Diary, by Tristine Rainer, remain on my shelf.

I have to admit that I struggled with The Buddha when I first read it.  Although Kopp's message of personal responsibility was exactly what I needed, he was uncompromising in his delivery.  "Using the myths of Gilgamesh, Siddhartha, The Wife of Bath, Don Quixote...the works of Buber, Ginsberg, Shakespeare, Kafka, Dante, and Jung" and concluding with personal stories, Kopp demanded that his reader be literate, reflective, and willing to surrender all excuses, reasons and alibis, any expectation that someone else has the answers, including him.  He presented himself, not as an expert, but a fellow pilgrim, another struggling human being.  

I almost quit the book...and would have missed what has proven to be the most impactful (and most quoted ) part of the book - an Eschatological Laundry List - a list of 43 statements at the end of the book that encapsulate Kopp's philosophy and continue to date to be quoted.  A few of these "eternal truths" that have meant the most to me...and continue to do so....

• The world is not necessarily just.  Being good often does not pay off and there is no compensation for misfortune.
• You have a responsibility to do your best anyway.
• It is a random universe to which we bring meaning.
• All of the significant battles are waged within the self.
• But it is so very hard to be an on-your-own-take-care-of-yourself-cause-there-is-no-one-else-to-do-it-for-you grown up.
• And...yes....learn to forgive yourself, again and again and again.

I have reread this book three times over the past 35 years, most recently within the last week.  And I still value and cherish it.  Obviously, it is dated in some of the vocabulary, examples and references- l972 right?!  This may turn off younger readers, but the message is still relevant, perhaps even more so than ever.  Wisdom isn't easily dated.

It is important to note that Kopp wrote with a deep understanding of and appreciation for the courage and strength required to  "give up the master, without giving up the search." He lived with a brain tumor that doctors could not completely remove,  and each recurring operation over the remainder of his life left him increasingly impaired.  He wrote about this challenge in An End to Innocence: Facing Life without Illusions, published in l978.  He continued to write,  his final book a collection of daily meditations, The Blues Ain't Nothing but a Good Soul Feeling Bad, published in l992.  Sheldon Kopp died in l999.

And If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him is back on my shelf.

And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini

It's been some time since I've posted, not because I haven't been reading - I have. Mysteries and e-books about minimalism and habit formation.  And I've started a couple that I haven't finished.  (One of the resolutions I made a few years ago was to abandon any book that didn't engage me within 50 pages, no matter how great the critical reviews.)  In short, haven't posted because I haven't had much to say.

Then, I read our book club's February selection, And the Mountains Echoed, the third novel by Khaled Hosseini,  author of  The Kite Runner.  Not having read that, and truthfully, not inspired to, I only read this selection out of commitment to the book club and my past experiences of pleasant surprise when I did.  Once again, I've been thankful that I followed through.

And the Mountains Echoed is a treasure, a complex and compassionate story woven by a master storyteller, one of my favorite pieces of fiction from the past few years.  It has a tapestry of themes - loyalty, family, filial love, survival, interconnection, acceptance...woven through the lives of a series of fully fleshed individuals across continents and generations.  (Reminded me a bit of a classic Russian novel where it helped to keep an accounting of the various characters and how they relate to one another, or as I did when a student, to give them nicknames.)

I recommend you check out a variety of reviews of this book.  You will see a wide divergence of opinions and several synopsis of the story line.  For my part, this is what I most enjoyed -

• the lyrical beauty of Hosseini's writing
• the humanity of his characters
• and the intricate relationships between them,
• his sensitive rendering of cultural differences
• his ability to deliver historical, cultural information without preachi
• the intricate, multi-leveled story

And - I'm starting The Kite Runner tonight.

Leonardo and the Last Supper by Ross King

Were it not our book club selection, I doubt I would have chosen this book and had I not agreed to lead the discussion, I most likely would not have finished it.  Leonardo and the Last Supper is a dense, sometimes laborious read.  Filled with historical, political and cultural information to provide a context for Leonardo's famous painting, this book is not for the reader who reads chiefly for entertainment.  It reads like a series of an art historian's lectures rather than historical narrative (such as the work of Candace Millard, a much easier read).

But if you read to learn, or also read to learn, this book is  worth every one of the 275 small print pages.  King provides a rich tapestry of data about the players - the European monarchs and popes and artists,  and the times - the High Renaissance in Italy - that generated the iconic mural that continues to fascinate after more than 500 years.    He details the reasons the Last Supper took so long to complete and why it is sadly deteriorating.  And he creates a deeper understanding of the charismatic and brilliant genius who would have preferred a career, and fame, as an architect and military engineer. 

 We had a lively book club discussion, as the variety and depth of information allowed for everyone to contribute from a different angle.  Be forewarned that if you prefer to use a reading guide, I couldn't  find one.  Didn't create a problem, however.  All I had to do was ask "What did you learn?" and "What most fascinated you about the book?" and we were off and running.

 At the conclusion of our discussion, I asked, "Would you recommend this book?" and to a person, the response was, "It depends."  I, we'd, recommend this to anyone fascinated by  the period, the artist, the work and/or the controversy around it.  (A caveat - King loves the detail, the names, the dates, the obscure vignettes.  There are pages of footnotes, in themselves an interesting read.) In the final analysis, I can't recall a book I've learned so much from in many years.  If that tweaks your interest, at least check out Leonardo and the Last Supper.

Levels of Life by Julian Barnes

Julian Barnes is one of a handful of authors whose books I order without reading  reviews or even knowing anything about the content of the book..  I have never been disappointed.  Clever writing, a quirky sense of humor, interesting insights into the human condition, challenging questions.  I love the way he writes, but even more, I love the way he thinks - and provokes my thinking.

So when my brother called to suggest Levels of Life, I immediately downloaded it and read it in an afternoon - it's a short read.  This time, I was glad to have a heads up about the structure of the book, divided into three sections that didn't come together until the final section - and the nature of the last section, the powerful, deeply personal and pain-full essay, "The Loss of Depth", in which Barnes shares his five year journey in "the tropic of grief", following the death of his wife from a brain tumor.

This book is not for the faint of heart.  Barnes' pain is palpable, and he is unflinchingly honest - whether he admits to contemplating suicide or describes the reactions of others, some helpful, and others not.  (I winced when I recognized some of my own inadequate, unhelpful responses to loved ones traveling this terrain.) He doesn't seek to reassure or instruct.  No sidebars about research on grief, no details that might evoke sympathy. 

In the Independent from the U.K., the reviewer concluded with this paragraph: " "Every love story is a potential grief story," writes Barnes early on.  Anyone who has loved and lost can't fail to be moved by this devastating book."  I would add that anyone who has been bewildered, uncomfortable or impatient with the grief of another, as I admittedly have, can't fail to be enlightened by this intimate and courageous essay. It may well be that ultimately this latter contribution may be the most significant.


If you want to know more about the book in its entirety,  I found this review to be particularly well done...
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/9951130/Julian-Barnes-Levels-of-Life-review.html  

The End of Your Life Book Club by Will Schwalbe

I'm back - haven't blogged, simply because....I haven't.  Have been reading though.   With the heat in Utah, and the hiatus of many activities I otherwise engage in, I've been on a reading marathon these past three months.  Such luxury!

In fact, have read a couple books a week, several short stories, magazines, blogs.  Fiction and non-fiction. Some memorable and some I gave up on after only a few pages.  The best, the highlight of my summer, the work that most engaged me, that most moved me was The End of Your Life Book Club by Will Schwalbe.

My synopsis will be brief - (this book is more than adequately introduced, outlined and reviewed elsewhere).  It is the recounting of the author's last months with his mother as they coped with her treatment for pancreatic cancer and eventual death.  It is a tribute to an incredible woman, their relationship, the informal book club of two that they created, the books they read and discussed and the insights Schwalbe got in the process.

What I want to share here is why this book has touched me so - why, though I read it on my Kindle, I bought a copy to place on the shelf that holds the dozen or so books that have impacted me most over my lifetime.  In no order of importance -

• "Mom" was a phenomenal woman.  Intelligent, courageous, compassionate, committed - she was the founding director of the Women's Commission for Refugee Women and Children, only one of several accomplishments in her life, including the raising of three children.  The kind of woman I would have loved to spend an afternoon with.  Getting to know her through the eyes of a loving son, through her responses to the various books, to get a glimpse of the woman, not just her accomplishments - I particularly enjoyed this aspect of the book.
• Will - well suffice it to say that had I had a son, I would hope he would write, speak of me, remember me with the obvious love and respect that he conveys throughout this book.  It is, indeed, a tribute.
• Being an avid reader, I was enthralled by the literary discursions.  Some of their choices I had already read - The Elegance of the Hedgehog, Olive Kitteridge, Crossing to Safety among others.  And admittedly, I was more than just a bit pleased that I often shared their reactions. Their opinions regarding other books, sometimes very divergent, intrigued me enough that I have already downloaded a couple.  Others, I'll skip, thank you!
• I found the style and the tone of the book to be very accessible.  Having had cancer myself, and caring for my husband during his bout with cancer, I was grateful for the honest, yet circumspect way in which Schwalbe relates both treatment and death - never maudlin, never gratuitous.  Not that I didn't cry - well, truthfully wept.  But I also laughed, out loud belly laughs. 

A final note - after I wiped away the last tear, I called my brother in Wisconsin, the most well-read individual I know, who constantly is calling me to read something he has just completed.  I asked him to read this and tell me what he thought of it.  Which he did - and called me within a couple days to say he loved it, so much so that he had just bought a copy to bring to a high school buddy who had recently lost his mother.  I plunged in, asking if he would consider creating our own book club (no, neither of us is dying, but we are close, value each other's opinions,  and getting on in years).  And held my breath wondering if he would consider my request an obligation.  Not only did he readily agreed, but so has our sister.

To be drawn to think, to feel, to relate, and to take action - doesn't get much better than that for me!



Cadillac Desert by Marc Reisner

I am embarrassed to say I have just read this amazing book..  My husband read it 25 years ago and has continued over the years to sing its praises and to encourage me to read it.  But daunted by its length and thinking I would need an engineering degree to understand it, I kept deflecting his recommendation.  Strange, then, that I should suggest it as a selection for our book club, and stranger yet that I would offer to lead its discussion.  Admittedly, while reading the first chapter I questioned my sanity for doing so.  Within 50 pages or so, however, I was hooked - by the content and by the quality of writing.

Cadillac Desert is the riveting tale of "the American West and Its Disappearing Water." It is also a tale of greed, fraud, duplicity, arrogance, hypocrisy, cronyism, graft, blind ambition, and plunder...to list some of the words that thundered in my mind as I poured through Reisner's expose. It is the story of "rivers diverted and dammed, of political corruption and intrigue, of billion-dollar battles over water rights and ecologic and economic disaster." A course in history and political science.   It is well-documented, compelling, perceptive and even occasionally witty. 

Halfway through the book I found myself doing additional research and came upon a series of videos on the Internet produced before Reisner's death in 2000, capturing interviews with him and with a villain of this saga,  Floyd Dominey, the Commissioner of the Bureau of Reclamation for 10 years.  I downloaded Beyond the Hundredth Meridian by Wallace Stegner, a book Reisner cited and respected. I found myself learning more than I had from any other book I've read in the past 10 years.  I decided that whether anyone else in the book club applauded this selection, I thought it was one of the best and most important selections chosen in the two years I have participated. 

As it turned out, I need not be concerned.  Everyone in our group of 15 found Cadillac Desert valuable, intriguing, an important contribution, a powerful learning experience.  And agreed that he or she would recommend it to anyone who is concerned about the issue of water or the future of the western states in particular.  I'm only sorry I didn't read it sooner.



 

The Italians Are Coming!!

Didn't set out to read only Italian crime novels these past few weeks, but one led to another and before I knew it, I'd read four.  Reading the four, by four different authors, taking place in different parts of Italy, and each of the protagonists having a distinctly different personality (shaped by their age and environment), I feel as though I've just had a crash course in Italian geography, history and sociology.

The four:

The Age of Doubt by Andrea Camilleri, takes place in Sicily.  Camilleri's novels have been made into tv movies, occasionally seen here on PBS.  Because I have been to Sicily and all my grandparents were Sicilian, three born there, this series holds a particular fascination for me.  Inspector Salvo Montalvo captures the Sicilian character as I experience it.  With a dark sophistication, a heavy dose of cynicism, softened by a strain of humor, the series continues to fascinate me.

In this installment, Montalbano is increasingly preoccupied with aging, and coupled with his on/off again relationship with Livia, finds himself falling in love with a younger woman, a beautiful harbor official who he comes to know as a result of his investigation into two murders that take place in the harbor. 

I loved this novel, found the emphasis on the love story, the humor, the Sicilian angst to be particularly engaging.  Might be my favorite in the series.

The Golden Egg, by Donna Leon, is the most recent (just released this week) in this series that takes place in Venice.  The protagonist, Commissario Guido Brunetti, is a moral, intellectual man striving to stay afloat in an ocean of amorality and corruption.  What I most appreciate about this series is the consistency of plot development, the social commentary, and thoughtful exploration of the human condition.  Not only is Brunetti a multi-dimensional character, but his wife, Paola, continues to take on more depth and breadth.  The descriptions of Venice are charming and include a background into the city's cultural heritage.

In this episode Brunetti is asked to look into a minor shop-keeping violation committed by the mayor's future daughter-in-law, a case he would prefer not be placed on his plate.  Then, Paola comes to him with a request to look into the sudden death of a handicapped man who worked at their dry cleaner, a man who turns out to have absolutely no legal papers, no record of existence.   

As is common to this series, there are many references to the corruption that runs rampant in Italian business and government, and my biggest concern is that Brunetti will resign and the series will end!

Death in Sardinia  by Marco Vichi, is the third in the crime series set in Florence in the l960's.  Inspector Bordelli is younger than Brunetti or Montalbano.  And much more consumed by his, and Italy's, past in World War II.  Although the crimes are well developed and explored in detail, Bordelli's memories of combat and the factions that existed in Italy during the war are a recurring motif - one that I have found intriguing and informative, so far.  Vichi also injects snatches of 60's history - Bordelli discovers The Rolling Stones in this novel - which lightens the serious atmosphere of the novel.   Because this is a young series in comparison to Leon's or Camilleri's, however, I don't have a good sense of Bordelli yet (and for some reason the second in the series is not available on the Kindle).  Haven't decided how much further I continue with this series.

Note: Vichi's translator is Stephen Sartarelli, who also translates Camilleri, with the same fluency and sensitivity to the English language.

River of Shadows by Valerio Varesi, is set in the Po Valley in 2000,and introduces a new protagonist, Commisario Soneri and his young female partner, Angela. Soneri reminds me a bit of Montalbano, so it will be interesting to see how he develops.  The novel is richly atmospheric, with the valley's inhabitants and history as dark and meandering as the river that runs through it.  The mystery at the heart of the novel, the separate but ultimately related deaths of two elderly brothers leads, Soneri into the shadows still cast by the second World War, 55 years after its conclusion.  This is the only title in the series to be translated so far (and I wish Sartarelli had done it), but the series appears to have a following in Italy, so I suspect more will be coming.  And I will check out them out when they do.

 

The Complete Stories of David Malouf

From the reviews I've read of Australian David Malouf's books, folks either love him or dismiss him out of hand.   I'm one of the former.  In fact, I consider him to be one of the finest writers of our time, perhaps my favorite.

Having read four of his novels, I was delighted when my brother (to whom I had introduced Malouf several years ago) sent me this volume of all the short stories Malouf had published to the date of this publication - 2007.  It is, admittedly, not an easy read.  Malouf's sentence structure can be complicated, his characters multi-dimensional and sometimes quite unappealing, his short stories vignettes that can leave you perplexed and discombobulated filled with what one reviewer described as angst.  But the writing - lyrical, magical.  Suddenly a phrase appears and I ask myself not only how he thinks that he could describe a place or a behavior with such exquisite clarity, but also how he looks at the world to see what I know I would not see.

But I don't intend to review this book here....for that, I recommend http://www.waterbridgereview.org/102007/rvw_complete.php where Abby Pollak has a thorough, well-written review.


However, if you read to learn, not merely to be entertained, if you enjoy exploring another place or culture, if you are comfortable with the discomfort of having your thinking challenged, your perceptions altered, if you can appreciate the craftsmanship of a piece whether or not you like the content, if you are intrigued with intricacies and paradoxes of the human condition, try Malouf.  And if you are already familiar with and appreciate him, The Complete Stories will not disappoint you.

Gift from the Sea - Anne Morrow Lindbergh

"she read, or rather, reread.  Chasing up old friends in the pages of her favorite books to see how she or they had changed over the years, or to discover with a little shock of affection, the earlier self who at sixteen or thirty had first been touched by them."
                                                                          The Complete Stories  ~ David Malouf

There it was, in clear and exquisite language, the reasons I've been rereading a handful of "old friends".  The most recent, Anne Morrow Lindbergh's classic, Gift from the Sea.  I first read it in the 70's, when floundering in the aftermath of a painful divorce, I read every book I could get my hands on that might offer insight, respite from the confusion and self-doubts I struggled with.  It helped significantly then and I have revisited it every decade since  - "chasing up", checking in.

Gift is a collection of meditative essays, written while Lindbergh was taking a quiet, solitary retreat from her hectic life as mother of five, wife of aviator Charles Lindbergh, writer and aviator in her own right.  Using shells she collected from the beach as impetus for her reflections and as metaphors for the various stages of a woman's life, she created a slim volume that has touched and inspired generations of women.  That touched and inspired me yet again as I reread it this past week.

Has the book held up, changed?  Certainly, it is dated in some ways - originally published in l955, many of the challenges Lindbergh addresses are those of home bound women.  (In a postscript that she wrote in l975 and included in the 50th anniversary edition of the book, she gracefully and gratefully acknowledges the impact of the Women's Movement.)  However, while much of the context may be different, the issues she raised remain pertinent - the need for solitude (for men as well as women?!) in order to regain a sense of serenity and balance, the need to know oneself if we are ever to know another, the acceptance of the natural ebb and flow of life in general and relationship in particular, the value and impact of lessons learned from the simplicity of nature, the joy of creating.  And the writing itself holds up beautifully, as peaceful, tranquil and serene as the quiet beach that inspired her.

And have I changed?  Did I get a little shock of affection for the younger woman who first was touched by her musings?  Perhaps this is the greatest gift - to be able to look back and see that her words resonate more today than then.  That I am more comfortable in my own skin.  That I do take regular breaks of solitude.  That I am creating, able to say I am creative.  That for the most part, I am at peace with the ebb and flow of life.  That the young woman who first was touched by her musings was smart enough, has worked hard enough to more fully understand and appreciate the wisdom she imparted almost 60 years ago.

And smart enough to plan to read it again.



A New Find - Marco Vichi

I have stumbled on a new, delightful mystery series, another set in Italy.  Florence this time.  The early 60's.  The Inspector, 53 year old, Inspector Bordelli, a non-smoker wannabe who prefers the company of a petty thief, a former prostitute and other societal misfits.  Bordelli reminds me somewhat of the Sicilian Montalbano, direct, compassionate, accustomed to the harsh realities of life, yet still an optimist and a bit of a romantic.  Like other Italian mystery series, this is filled with references to food and attention to the atmosphere of the fascinating cities in which the mysteries unfold.

The first installment in the series, the one I finished in a day, Death in August, sets the stage for the rest of the series (four in translation at this time), the crime itself being of lesser importance than the creation of context.  There is a lot of information about Bordelli's background, which in itself makes this introduction a tad unique.  Information about his war experiences, his early introduction to sex, his family, his moral code.  And the minor cast characters are developed with enough detail to make them interesting and reasonable as folks a man like Bordelli would consider his friends.

I like characters like Bordelli, full of contradictions, using both reason and intuition to address the crime (and his personal life as well), flawed yet admirable, characters who reflect and in those reflections give me something to reflect upon, too.  Like Montalbano and Inspector Morse, Hercule Poirot and Adam Dagliesh.  I enjoy a mystery that depends more upon clues and old-fashioned persistence and teamwork than modern forensics for its solution.  A mystery more about the human element than blood and core, even with a touch of humor.  A mystery that teaches me something about history and/or other cultures. And I love Florence.  Will definitely continue with this series!

A footnote - the translation of this novel was done by Stephen Sartarelli, who also has translated Andrea Camilleri's Montalbano series.  So there is a decent section of notes to help with the Italian references as well as a natural rhythm that only a good translator can achieve.  Having recently read another translated novel without notes and with awkward phrasing and strange analogies, I more thoroughly appreciate Sartarelli's contribution and skills.

 

A Room of One's Own

I have room of my own, a wonderful room.  Though small in square footage, it has 14 ft. ceilings and a bay of windows that look out to distant foothills that turn copper at the break of dawn.  There is a wall of book cases, home to the books that have helped shape my opinions and world view and many I have yet to read. Curios and collections gathered over decades could tell a tale or two.  On the walls, artwork that reflects my aesthetic tastes and the most recent addition, my own graphite drawing, the first which I am satisfied (no, proud) enough to display.  Tucked away in niches, whimsical creatures - gnomes and angels, fanciful women, and a balancing toy Santa who makes me smile so easily that he has earned a dedicated year-round home.

Scattered about are bowls of pens and colored pencils, baskets filled with notebooks, journals and magazines.  Candles and candy jars, pillows and afghans.  And being the holidays, rope lights, a tiny flocked tree, a bouquet of ornaments.  In short, this is a room where I come to contemplate, create, and celebrate.

In one corner is my favorite chair, teal leather with an ottoman, where, nestled among pillows, an afghan across my lap, I retired this afternoon to nurse a bruised and inflamed knee, and for some inexplicable reason to reread A Room of One's Own, the book that initiated the creation of my own space some 30 years ago.

Virginia Woolf died the year I was born, she was only 59 years old. This little gem of only 118 pages, now a classic in many Women's Studies programs and lit courses, was first published in l929.  The essay is based on lectures she gave at Cambridge on the subject of women and fiction, expanded for this book.

Not only can I not explain why I picked it up this afternoon, I can't recall why I originally bought it.  I suspect the title aroused my curiosity.  I certainly did not aspire to becoming a writer.  I do recall being taken with her eloquent style, the beautiful descriptions, the clarity of her logic, the persuasiveness of her arguments.  Setting out to consider why there were so few female authors of prose or poetry, faced with conflicting historical reasons (many asserting women lacked the character, imagination or ability), Woolf came to the conclusion that to create, particularly to write enduring literature, one must have a fixed income and a "room of one's own" - both historically the principal privilege of men.

At that first reading, I had the fixed income, but not a room of my own, not a dedicated space for reflection and creative pursuits, had never had one, never considered it, even during the years when I was single.  Obviously, reading it again in this room has been a personal affirmation, a celebration. But it has also been affirming on a deeper level.  For even as I read, I could look up and see several books on my shelves with the names of female authors.  I could recall hours of pleasure and inspiration this past year thanks to Julia Cameron, P. D. James, Candace Millard, Marilyn Robinson, Donna Leon and Annie Dillard, to name a few. Couldn't help but wonder what Woolf would make of Hilary Mantel winning England's prestigious Book Award for 2012, the first person to win the award twice.

But lest this all makes A Room of One's Own seem irrelevant, one only has to take note that many women still do not have adequate fixed incomes, let alone rooms of their own.  That a young girl could be brutally attacked for simply wanting to be educated.  That there are those, even in this country, who would reverse the progress that women have made.

A Room of Own's One remains relevant, inspiring, and beautifully written.

The Jewels of Paradise

I've been a Donna Leon fan for years, more than fond of Commassario Guido Brunetti, hero of her Venetian mystery series, frequently recommending her - and him - to friends and family.  Such a fan that I pre-ordered her new novel, The Jewels of Paradise, as soon as Amazon let it be known that it would appear this fall.  Eager to meet her new heroine, Caterina Pelligrini, Baroque opera scholar.

So when it finally arrived on my Kindle, I curled up on the sofa, a steaming cup of coffee at hand, afghan over my lap, intent on spending the morning wandering among Venetian canals and palazzos, becoming acquainted with a new character than I hoped would become an old friend.

And was sadly disappointed.  In an attempt to create a stand alone novel, perhaps in a new voice or style, Leon appears to have thrown out the proverbial baby with the bathwater.  Gone are the charming characters, the insightful social commentary, the allusions to delectable food, even the magical lure of Venice.

In their place, two-dimensional, bland characters who failed to arouse my interest or concern, a complex and convoluted rendering of a piece of Baroque musical history, peppered with Italian and Venetian dialect.  I finished it driven only by the hope that I had jumped to conclusions about the book too soon. I didn't change my mind.  I'm afraid Dottoressa Pellegrini is destined to be a passing acquaintance.

For Your Consideration

Having been on vacation in NY - 11 hours each way to get there - and then recovering from the ordeals of travel, I've caught up on some reading these past few weeks.  It's been a curious assortment of books, if I do say so.  But illustrative of my eclectic reading tastes.  Hopefully, something will catch your fancy.  For your consideration:

A Taste of Murder by P.D. James.  With all the unread books I have on my shelves and on my Kindle, it could be argued that I shouldn't spend time rereading a novel.  But I'm glad I decided, on a whim, to revisit this 1986 gem of a mystery by a master of the genre.  James is well-respected for her elegant, intricate plots written as only the best British mystery writers seem capable of, but this go-round I became enthralled as well with her descriptions of place and character.  One of those rare novels I almost hated to finish.  

Walking in This World by Julia Cameron.  This second book in Cameron's "course of discovering and recovering the creative self" has taken me three months to complete, committed as I've been to working with her weekly assignments.  Having read The Artist's Way and The Sound of Paper, I found some of this book to be redundant and might have been tempted to abandon the book were it not for her ability to crystallize something I've been mulling over in a lucid, creative sentence or paragraph...."for most of us, the idea that we can listen to ourselves, trust ourselves, and value ourselves is a radical leap of faith."  Because she continues to make me think, and inspires me to explore creative expression, I plan to continue with The Right to Write.
And I did find many of the assignments, (she calls them tasks), to be interesting and informative.

The History of the World in 10 1/2 Chapters by Julian Barnes.  I'm an unabashed Barnes fan.  Loved The Sense of an Ending and Flaubert's Parrot.  I read this book with members of one of the two book clubs I belong to.  It received mixed reviews, as it is denser and somewhat uneven.  I admit it isn't one of my favorite works of his either.  Would not recommend it until/unless you've read other work of his first.

The Work of Wolves by Kent Meyers.  This past month's choice of book club #2.  Perhaps because it's  western-based fiction, I couldn't get into this novel and did stop after about a third of it.  Then, again, haven't read Lonesome Dove or Plainsong, the novels to which this has been favorably compared.  If you have, and enjoyed them, this might be a worthy choice.

I hesitate to end this way, but....I am always open for other suggestions.  Who knows, I may already own them, as yet unread.

The Destiny of the Republic

If it were not the September selection of our book club, I would have missed a wonderful book about an intriguing period in our history and a largely unforgotten and unappreciated man, the assassinated President James A. Garfield.  Like many people, I suspect, I don't read much history.

Candice Millard didn't set out to write about Garfield.  After her popular and highly acclaimed River of Doubt, the tale of Theodore Roosevelt's journey up the Amazon, she didn't want to write about another president. Her intention was to write about Alexander Graham Bell.  In her research, and she does extensive research, she discovered that Bell had worked to the point of exhaustion and near despair on an invention that he hoped might save Garfield's life. And The Destiny of a Republic was born.

Bell's toil remains an interesting sub-plot, one of several, in Millard's narrative; for as the subtitle describes, this is "a Tale of Madness, Medicine, and the Murder of a President."
In the long run, Bell's effort could not overcome the havoc and destruction generated by the very physicians, led by one Dr. Doctor Bliss (no kidding!), with Garfield's recovery. Doctors who probed and poked the wounded president with dirty hands and dirty instruments, who kept him in the then rotting and rat infested White House, bringing on the massive internal infections that ultimately caused his death.  That caused him to "rot" from within, unnecessarily as it turned out.

Although Joseph Lister's antiseptic techniques were accepted and successfully practiced in Europe, they were largely demeaned and dismissed by traditional and arrogant American physicians. The dangerously delusional, grandiose assassin, Charles Giteau, recognized the horrible culpability of Garfield's doctors, when at his trial he stated, "I shot the President; the doctors killed him."  An indictment that an autopsy would confirm, although Bliss was never held accountable.

Millard's rich narrative style, built upon her skills as a researcher, analyst and editor, deliver history and its characters with a panache that would/should make any history professor green with envy.  Garfield, Bliss, Giteau and a cast of several supporting characters are as well developed as any in a good novel.  And what a movie this could make!

But, while I always appreciate strong character development, it is the larger historical, political, and medical context that Millard creates that I found most riveting and educational. I frequently heard myself saying, "I didn't know that."  Then, "Why didn't I know that?"  As I wandered through the multi-layered tableau of the beleaguered American post-Civil War landscape, the corrupt political environment, the barbaric medical practices, I also wandered through a surprising array of emotions.  Anger and dismay, respect and incredulity, cynicism and hope, and ultimately tearful sorrow at the needless, excruciating death of what appeared to be a remarkable human being. 

The remarkable man that emerges through his letters, and diaries, through the loyalties of other remarkable individuals - an educated, thoughtful, strong and compassionate man -would Garfield have made a remarkable president?  Would he have been allowed to?  I can hope the answer to both questions would/could be yes.  I do know with certainty, however, that in The Destiny of the Republic Candice Millard has created this convert to historical narrative.  And I will wait patiently for her next book.  In the meantime, I'll go back and finish The River of Doubt.



Organizing for the Creative Person

"Many wonderfully talented people have been able to create anything and everything - except order.....they have a hard time attending to details, keeping things where they belong, finding what they need, getting to places on time, following through on projects, and so on.....a tendency toward brain dominance or preference makes it difficult for some of them to get organized in the conventional ways."

These lines, taken from the third paragraph of the introduction to Organizing for the Creative Person by Dorothy Lehmkuhl and Dolores Cotter Lamping, C.S.W., were enough to convince me to buy this book 15 years ago. Written by an organization consultant and a psychotherapist, it is more than another how-to manual extolling methods that work for those already inclined to be tidy, methodical and punctual.  It offers dozens of practical, down-to-earth strategies and techniques designed to help us right-brain dominant folks find an organizing style and system that can work for us.

And they work.  I can attest to this, as I am now, finally, organized. In my way. It has taken awhile, having some fun in the process, experimenting with different ideas. With recommendations of these authors. But items now have a specified place and, most often, can be found there. I use baskets and totes instead of file cabinets - have finally accepted that it's better to accept "out of sight, out of mind " than to deny it.  I am an expert with a label gun.  Carry a small notebook with me wherever I go - love my notebooks! Our closets, cupboards and drawers are orderly - and, the greatest testimony I can give, my husband is ready to follow my lead in the garage!

If this isn't enough to recommend this book, let me add that, first published in l993, it is still in print and still pertinent.  A most valuable resource.



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