May(be) reading

My reading this May has been a real mish-mash. Some satisfying mystery novels, some not-so-satisfying, some dabbling with short stories, and even a non-fiction title.

These three were probably the most satisfying books I’ve read this month. Trust Your Eyes by Linwood Barclay was a page-turning thriller (or should I say “screen-tapping”, since I was reading a library e-book version…) about a man who is obsessed with a Google Street View-like mapping program, and in the process of his explorations he sees something that looks very much like a murder being committed. He and his brother start to figure out what happened and it leads to one twist and turn after another.

I took a cross-country train trip last week and covered half of Canada in 2 1/2 days. It was a beautiful and relaxing trip, and vacation reading was a must. I had found Death of a Mystery Writer and Prairie Hardball in a used bookstore for 50 cents each and they were the perfect books to bring along and leave behind on the train for the next reader. Death of a Mystery Writer, by Robert Barnard, was a well-done cozy à la Agatha Christie. The titular mystery writer is a horrible man, disliked by family, friends, and acquaintances. He is poisoned at his birthday party, and the person who most clearly had motive did not have opportunity, so it really was a puzzle. All very cleverly solved in the end, of course. Prairie Hardball, by Alison Gordon, was set in Saskatchewan and since we were traveling through Saskatchewan, it seemed appropriate. This was also a nicely-done, satisfying little mystery. A sports journalist from Toronto returns to her Saskatchewan home town with her police officer boyfriend for a special occasion – her mother is being inducted into the Saskatchewan sports hall of fame for having been a member of the All-American women’s baseball league. One of her fellow inductees is found murdered the morning after the hall of fame party, and the clues to solving the crime go all the way back to the women’s days playing baseball.

I have been watching episodes of the BBC Inspector Lewis series, which also prompted me to borrow some Inspector Morse episodes from the library, one of which was Last Bus to Woodstock, and watching that made me want to read it. I quite like Colin Dexter’s books and they are some of the few mystery novels that I will buy – but I don’t have a copy of Last Bus to Woodstock! So I read Last Seen Wearing and quite enjoyed it. Morse is such a character, and his foibles are laid out so clearly. Bossy, alcoholic, womanizer. Convinced that he’s right, only to find out a few chapters later that he was very, very wrong. And then he moves on to the next stage of solving the crime. There is probably a lesson in there about persistence and creativity… I have borrowed a copy of Last Bus to Woodstock from the library, but just cannot get into it. One dose of Morse was satisfying, but two doses seem to be too much.

I have a love-hate relationship with short stories. I am often enticed by them, because they are so precise in their language, and convey so much in such compact space. I used to buy issues of the New Yorker just for the short stories. But reading a whole collection is frustrating, because each story ends so soon and usually leaves the characters (and me, by extension) hanging out there without a really satisfying ending. I have heard many people say that short stories are best read one at a time, dipping into a collection here and there. But I like reading best when I can really get into something and then feel like I’ve finished it – I mostly don’t like dipping. That said, I’ve enjoyed these two collections more than I thought I would. Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage by Alice Munro was the third book I brought on the train, and the train trip was actually a good setting for dipping in and out of a story collection. The first story also featured a train trip from Ontario to the prairies, and is probably my favourite story so far. This Will Be Difficult to Explain and other stories by Johanna Skibsrud has been sitting on my bedside table for a few weeks now. Not sure when (or if) I’ll finish either of these collections. If I get into a real satisfying, meaty book, they may just fall by the wayside…

Lastly, I have been reading The Whale: In Search of the Giants of the Sea by Philip Hoare. When I was a kid, I often named whales as my favourite animal, and I still find them fascinating. I love whale watching trips. I know it’s best that fewer aquariums have whales in captivity, but I’m kind of glad that the Vancouver Aquarium had killer whale shows when I was a kid. So, I was drawn to this book when I saw it earlier this year in a used bookstore. It’s quite interesting, and includes lots of photos (black and white) throughout the book, but it’s also kind of dissatisfying in how it rambles and floats around, talking about this, that and the other – going from whale anatomy to Moby Dick to the whaling industry. So far, the biggest impression it has left me with is that I should read Moby Dick. Like the short story collections, The Whale might just fall by the wayside here.

And the month is not yet over! I don’t feel quite settled unless I have a good book to read – by which I mean a book that I want to read, that matches my mood, that makes me want to read it while I’m eating breakfast and while I’m brushing my teeth… so I am off to look through my bookshelves to find that last book for the month, and hopefully, I will find a good one!

The Law and the Lady

According to the back cover of this edition of Wilkie Collins’s The Law and the Lady, this is “probably the first full-length novel with a woman detective as its heroine,” and that was enough to spark my interest!

This was an engaging, fun read. Valeria Woodville is the detective heroine, trying to solve the mystery of what happened in her husband’s past to make him try to conceal his identity by changing his name. Of course it’s all very dramatic and Victorian – his past contains a “horrible secret” that is “too awful for words,” and part of the fun was in realizing that the crime behind the “horrible secret” was less horrible than what I was conjuring up in my mind. Not that it was a trivial crime, just that if the book were written today it would have had to be more gruesome and probably more psychologically thrilling.

So, yes, there was a crime – a murder – and Valeria’s husband was accused of it and the outcome of his trial was “no verdict,” leaving him open to suspicion for the rest of his life. Valeria sets out to prove his innocence, which of course she does in the end, but not without some red herrings and puzzles and untrustworthy characters along the way.

I bought this book at the wonderful Book and Bar in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, over the Christmas holidays when I was in New England. If you are ever near Portsmouth, you must go! Used books, drinks (alcoholic or not), yummy sandwiches and treats, and a bright space with huge windows in a renovated customs house… I would happily go every weekend if I could. Instead, I will just look forward to the next time I can visit.

Hello, blog!

An email this morning told me there was a comment waiting for my approval, and that brought me back to my long-lost blog… it has been just about a year since I last posted. Reading a few posts reminded me of how much it helped me remember the books I read when I was writing about them. So, I’m going to try picking this up again. Nothing ambitious, just hoping to record a few thoughts about what I read.

Just finished: Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

I waited three months on the library’s hold list for this e-book, because of what I’d read about it – suspenseful, twists that you don’t see coming – and it did not disappoint. It also arrived during a week when I was thankful for some escapist reading.

Currently reading: Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen

How has it been so long since I’ve read this? So charming and full of teenage angst and drama. Such delightful characters, especially the boring or manipulative ones. (John and Isabella Thorpe, I’m looking at you.)

Memorable books so far this year:

Flight Behavior by Barbara Kingsolver

This book captivated me. The characters were compelling: Dellarobia, her son, the scientist guy (see, this is why I’m blogging), and the butterflies. The New Yorker‘s “Briefly Noted” review (Dec 24, 2012 issue) says, “Kingsolver is a former scientist and, at times, the novel lurches toward the scientific sermon.” This is accurate, and it felt preachy at times, but it also felt like she really knew what she was talking about, and she presented a very thoughtful and accessible description of the effects of climate change. That review also said, “Kingsolver sensitively captures the plight of the rural poor, a population endangered both by diminishing resources and by self-enforced isolation.” This was also one of the things that I found most striking about the book. One particularly memorable scene was when an earnest urban environmentalist has come to distribute his pamphlet about small things you can do to help the environment. The contrast between his tips and Dellarobia’s life is both comic and tragic:
“When you eat out at a restaurant, bring a reusable container for leftovers.”
Dellarobia hasn’t eaten at a restaurant in two years – she can’t afford to.
“Plan your errands so that you use less gas.”
Dellarobia: Who wouldn’t do that, with the price of gas these days?
The environmentalist leaves town soon after.
It’s a very thought-provoking and compelling book.

Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking by Susan Cain 

This has been a popular book for people at work to be reading, you know, libraries being full of introverts and all those stereotypes. I consistently score on the introverted end of the spectrum when I do Myers-Briggs, but I’ve also noticed more and more extroverted tendencies in myself at work. This was an interesting read from a self-awareness point of view. Well-researched and very readable.

Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel

Sometimes I completely lost track of who was who and what had happened, and yet I kept reading. It helped that I had a rough idea of the plot, thanks to The Tudors. Mantel’s style was awkward for two reasons: she wrote in present tense (which annoyed me less with this book than with most – usually I don’t keep reading) and she was very indirect with her pronouns. “He” was usually Thomas Cromwell, our narrator, but sometimes “he” was also another male character. A friend told me that Bring Up the Bodies doesn’t have that latter narrative quirk, thank goodness.

The Jade Peony by Wayson Choy

My Easter weekend included a fantastic dim sum meal with friends, and The Jade Peony by Wayson Choy… perhaps not the most traditional Easter festivities, but thoroughly enjoyable and, I think, appropriately thought-provoking.

The Jade Peony is set in Vancouver’s Chinatown in the late 1930′s and early 1940′s. The differences between Old China and the immigrant’s life in Canada are shown from the perspectives of three children from one family: Jook-Liang, Only Sister; Jung-Sum, Second Brother; and Sek-Lung (Sekky), Third Brother. The family is rounded out by the parents, paternal grandmother Poh-Poh, and First Brother Kiam. It’s a beautifully written book that pulls together the superstition and stories of Old China with the hard realities of immigrant life in an era shaped by war.

One of my favourite parts was when the family is visited by Wong Suk, an elderly Chinese bachelor who had immigrated to work on the railroad. Father orders the children to be respectful to Wong Suk and above all else, not to stare at his face. When Wong Suk arrives:

A broad furrowed brow came into view. Wrinkles deepened. Jung gasped; the back of Kiam’s neck stiffened. Father’s warnings echoed in our minds: Remember not to stare. How could we help it? We all stared. Even Stepmother stared. I stared until I felt my eyes bulge out. The old man’s face was like no other human one we had seen before: a wide-eyed, wet-nosed creature stared back at us.

The “I” here is five-year-old Liang, and then, a touching description that reminds you of just how wonderfully unashamed young children can be:

A thrill went through me: this face, narrow at the top and wide at the bottom; this face, like those carved wooden masks sold during the Year of the Monkey; this wizened face looked directly back at me, perhaps like Cheetah, but more royal. I heard ghost thunder. A mountain opened, and here, right in our parlour, staring back at me, stood Monkey, the Monkey King of Poh-Poh’s stories, disguised as an old man bent over two canes.

Liang loves Wong Suk from this moment. Throughout dinner she watches him in awe, and then she starts to wonder if he really is the Monkey King. Maybe he’s just wearing a mask… she goes over to him and pulls on his face to make sure it’s real. To the rest of the family, this is an alarming lack of respect, but to Wong Suk it’s the most precious gift:

Wong Suk’s voice was a half-whisper. “You not scared of Monkey Man?”

“This child not afraid of me,” I heard him say to everyone. “She not afraid.”

There is something so beautiful about a person being able to see to the core of another person, being able to look past appearances and find the Monkey King within. Kind of appropriate for an Easter read, I think.

This is 8/13 for me in the Canadian Book Challenge.

Happy New Year from New Zealand

I am thoroughly enjoying my Kiwi vacation, and the books I’m reading while here, but rather than a book post, I thought I would ring in the new year with some gratuitous photos from my trip so far.

Hahei beach, on the Coromandel Peninsula. We didn’t actually stay at this beach, but walked up the hill and over to the famous Cathedral Cove – but I don’t have as stunning a photo of Cathedral Cove. The water was as gorgeous as it looks (not quite warm, but refreshing, and warm enough!).

We took a boat trip from the town of Whitianga on the Coromandel, and were so excited to see a pod of dolphins!!

Castlepoint, about a two-hour drive from Wellington where my sister & her family are living.  We walked to the top of the cliff for some stunning views, but the water was much too cold here to venture in.

Here’s wishing you all many good books and enjoyable hours of reading in 2012!

The Bishop’s Man by Linden MacIntyre

I bought this back in November from a used bookstore in Waterloo and the owner commented that he couldn’t keep it in the store – even hardcover copies were flying off the shelves. It caught my attention a couple years ago when it won the Giller Prize, and I decided it was finally time to read it (along with everyone in Waterloo, apparently).

Set in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, The Bishop’s Man tells the story of a 50-year-old priest, Father Duncan MacAskill. For years, he has worked not in a parish church but at a university, and he has been called on by the bishop to ‘take care of’ those touchy situations that the church would prefer to sweep under the rug (i.e., sexual abuse of boys). I expected the book to be about this part of his life, but really it was a minor component. It was relevant to the story, but it didn’t form the main plot elements. Those came from Father Duncan’s new assignment to a little parish in Cape Breton, near the little community where he grew up. He becomes entwined in the lives of the locals, and this leads to him confronting some things from his past, particularly from a brief but formative time spent in the Honduras, and especially because of a tragedy that strikes the community.

I found this to be slow going at times, and there was a lot of shifting between present and past, which was sometimes disorienting. But what happened at the end took me by surprise, in a way that made the whole story much more powerful than I expected.

The sense of place was also strong, and important for the story. Reading it so far from Canada – on a holiday trip to New Zealand, and as my sister & I were traveling to some of the most tropical, vacation-y parts of the country – made me very aware of how tied the story was to its setting.

It has been a week now since I’ve read the book, and in reflecting on it, I think this is one that will benefit from a re-read. Not immediately, but in a few years or so this will be one to come back to.

This is 7/13 for me in the Canadian Book Challenge.

The Witch of Babylon by D.J. McIntosh

Finally the fall is over, I am well into my extended Christmas vacation, and I am back into books!

It took me about a week to get back to feeling like I could sink my teeth into a book. I caught up on several back issues of the New Yorker that had been languishing in a pile through the fall (I can tell you, it is odd to read the Halloween & Thanksgiving issues when you’re surrounded by Christmas). Then I turned to The Witch of Babylon by Canadian writer D.J. McIntosh.

Set in 2003, The Witch of Babylon has a murder, a treasure hunt, and lots of suspense. Our hero John Madison is in his early thirties and is just getting over the death of his older brother Samuel, who, at forty years older than Madison, was more like a father than a brother. (The explanation for this was somewhat convoluted, yet believable.) Not only is Samuel dead, but he died in a car accident when Madison was driving. Add survivor’s guilt to the facts that 1) there is some suspicion that Madison was responsible for the ‘accident’ and 2) Samuel’s contacts played a key role in getting clients for Madison’s work as an art dealer, and we have a hero who is really down on his luck.

Then a close friend is found dead and Madison is a suspect. The friend (Hal, I think, though it’s been a while since I read it and the library’s e-book has been erased from my iPad) had known that he was in trouble and left Madison some clues to figure out what was behind this all.

(This is where I start to get foggy on the details. As I said, this was the first book I sank my teeth into, and so I don’t think I was quite as focused on it… there were parts that I read without really taking them in, and characters that I couldn’t quite place in the story… and since I was reading an e-book borrowed from the library, it was hard to flip back to re-acquaint myself with the story.)

Hal was in possession of some precious Babylonian artifact that had been taken from Baghdad when it was being bombed and looted. The people who were behind Hal’s murder were on the hunt for this artifact, and thought Madison knew more about it than he did, so they were threatening him, and so we end up on a big chase and hunt. It reminded me of The DaVinci Code – but better written.

This was a very satisfying read (even if I can’t quite remember it). It is McIntosh’s debut novel and I will definitely read her next.

This is 6/13 for me in the Canadian Book Challenge.

Merry Christmas, everyone! (I am visiting my sister in New Zealand, so it’s now Boxing Day, but WordPress thinks I’m posting on the 25th, so Happy Christmas!)