The Queen of the South (Arturo Perez-Reverte)

A quick note about why I haven't updated the blog in the so long. The First, WeRead app on Facebook kind of died. So, and I kid you not, I couldn't remember what I had read and in what order. Maybe I'm just not as good as I should be retaining what I've read or maybe I read so much that if I don't write it down quickly I get confused. Anyway, I'm on Goodreads now and that's totally helping. It's a great place to share books and reviews.


With that, I'm moving on to the next book I'm reviewing: The Queen of The South. Another quick note: I read this book after reading Los Huesos de Dios, by Leonardo Gori. As far as I could tell, you can't find this book in English that's why I'm not reviewing it here. But, if you read Spanish or Italian, check it out.


OK, so on to The Queen of the South. I read this in Spanish as well, but it's available in English. This novel came out a few years ago but has had a resurgence in popularity because of the telenovela that came out recently. I didn't watch it, but apparently it was a pretty big hit. This book is about Teresa Mendoza, a young woman from Sinaloa that gets caught up in the underworld of drug trafficking.She ends up living on the Mediterranean coast of Spain, where she meets another young man. He also happens to drive a boat to bring drugs into Europe from Morocco. I don't want to give to much away, but circumstances lead to her being in jail where she meets a woman that will change her luck and her life.

There have been plenty of complaints about how this novel glamorizes narcos. I can totally see why, but I don't think that's really what the story is about. Teresa has very humble beginnings. She grows up in a violent society, where people do things they may not want to do to survive. Teresa, I think, happens to be cold-blooded enough that she refuses to let circumstances dictate whether she lives or dies. Would I want to meet this woman? No damn way. But I think Perez-Reverte manages to make her, if not a sympathetic character, at least someone that the reader can respect.

Next up: The Return, by Victoria Hislop

The Soldier's Wife (Margaret Leroy)

Yes, another novel set in World War II. I'm pretty sure this is my last one for a while, since even I'm starting to get uncomfortable with how much I read about this time period. That said, this novel truly delivered. It's the story of Vivienne, an Englishwoman that lives in Guernsey, one of the islands within the United Kingdom that suffered Nazi occupation. She married a man from Guernsey and moved there with him, and at the beginning of the story he's already off to fight in France.

Her decision to stay on the island, even though everyone that could and wanted to get out did, settles a new course for her life that she couldn't have imagined. She makes clear from the beginning that her marriage hasn't worked for quite a while.This, of course, makes what happens later on less morally questionable.

After the Nazi invasion of the island, some officers move into the house next door to Vivienne's. She eventually begins an affairs with one of the soldiers. I didn't find that Gunther's and Vivienne's self-justifications about what their affair were surprising. Both keep themselves almost purposefully in the dark about what the war means, as well. Vivienne's daughters work as a sort of moral compass, though the neither girl really understands what's going on around them.

Several other story lines take place, none of them particularly original. Still, Leroy manages to bring an intimacy to this war story that makes this book very much worth reading.

Next up: The Queen of the South, by Arturo Perez-Reverte

Secret of the White Rose (Stefanie Pintoff)

The third installment in the Simon Ziele mystery series certainly delivers. Pintoff has created a character that a reader can very much care about. Simon has flaws, but he's so earnest and honest that you can't help liking him.

This time around, Ziele is back in New York, having left the small town where he has worked as one of two cops. His friend, Alistair Sinclair, calls him in to help investigate the murder of a judge that Alistair knew. This judge had been presiding over the trail of an anarchist that had set a bomb in New York that killed several people, including a child.

Of course, this murder is only the beginning of what becomes an increasingly complicated and bloody case. It also becomes quite personal for Ziele in a way he could never have foreseen. It looks like Pintoff may continue to mine Ziele's sad and dramatic past into the series. It could have seemed forced, but so far it hasn't. That may not work from here on in, but I will always give Pintoff the benefit of the doubt.

Ziele's relationship with Alistair becomes more complicated with this book. Alistair's flaws and his own past become a crucial part of this story. Pintoff has never written this relationship in a way that makes them real partners, and she's certainly never had Alistair appear as a sidekick. Indeed, in this book, Isabella has a much bigger role than she had in A Curtain Falls. I'm hoping this continues, not only because it would be great to see her spend more time with Ziele. She's smart, resourceful, and I think Ziele may overestimate how much their different backgrounds affect their relationship.

I'm looking forward to the next installment. So far, Pintoff has avoided going through an obvious route. Indeed, she's exercised a lot of restraint in particular in the relationship between Ziele and Isabella. It's one of the reasons I continue to look forward to her books.

Next up: The Soldier's Wife, by Margaret Leroy.

In The Garden of Beasts: Love Terror and an American Family in Hitler's Berlin (Erik Larson)

Perhaps I read a little too much about World War II. I hadn't really thought about it until a friend of mine pointed it out. However, if you take a look at the fiction and nonfiction that is making it to bookstores, a lot of it is set during World War II.

And why not? Those times had everything that makes a good story--though I would never say I'm sorry I missed living during those troubled times. But all the best and the worst in people came out then. Obviously, readers today still create a demand for books on the subject.

Erik Larson decided to tell a story about World War II from the point of view of a family that saw itself in the middle of the storm as it gained momentum. Lets face it: most of us have heard about the appeasement policy implemented by Lord Chamberlain, but we seldom hear about what the American ambassador in Berlin thought or did. Larson tells their story.

William Dodd, the unfortunate soul that found himself having to deal with a Germany plunging into darkness, became ambassador to Berlin in 1933. President Roosevelt assigned him after having five other men turn down the job. Dodd asked for the job because he believed it would allow him time to finish his History of the South, an encyclopedic collection that was his life's work. He had studied in Germany as a young man and had always loved the country. He had quite a rude awakening once he arrived in Berlin. Between the internal drama with people in the State Department and dealing with the rising Nazi leadership, he saw himself in a situation that would have taxed any diplomat.

Dodd took his entire family with him, including his daughter, Martha. She was quite a character--at 23 she'd had several lovers and an estranged husband. She managed to sleep with Nazis, communists, and a few men in between. She caused quite a scandal within the State Department, given that her father did nothing to curve her behavior. I'm not sure if that shows what a blind spot Dodd had in regards to his daughter or if he just let her live her life as she saw fit. Martha definitely personifies how many people felt during the beginning of the Nazi regime. At first, she defended it vigorously. As she saw more of what was going on, she changed her tune. It's easy to forget how many people didn't see the Nazis as a threat at all.

Larson's prose reads like fiction. He doesn't quote anything that he hasn't read in documentation of the time, but he still manages to drive this story in a way that deeply engrosses the reader. It could have been another dry book on American diplomacy during Hitler's rise to power, but his approach and his writing style make it a pleasure to read.

Next up: Secret of the White Rose, by Stefanie Pintoff.

The Postmistress (Sarah Blake)

It took a few tries before I actually got around to reading this book. I checked it out from both the DC and Fairfax County libraries more than once. Yes, this has happened with more than one book.

Anyway, I finally got around to reading it. The Postmistress has three main story threads that intersect. The reader first meets Frankie, now an elderly lady, telling the story. She had worked as a journalist in London during the Blitz under Edward R. Murrow. Here, her life intersects with that of a young bride in Franklin, Massachusetts.

Iris James works as the postmistress in Franklin. It's a small town, so she pretty much meets everyone in town on a regular basis. The town doctor, William, meets her during a medical exam that he finds a little unusual. He's married to Emma, the young bride that will eventually bring Frankie to Franklin.

Due to some tragic string of events, William ends up in London before US intervention in World War II. Frankie meets him one night while hiding in a shelter during one of the German bombing of the city. There, another tragic string of events brings these women together.

Like any story set in World War II, this story is sad. Don't pick this up if you don't want to read a tragedy. Everyone has something awful happen to them, even though only Frankie travels through Europe during the war. Blake's writing brings you into the story and you really do care what happens to these characters even though you know it can't end well. This is probably my peeve with this book. I knew immediately that nothing will go well for these folks, so I keep myself from truly getting into the story. Yes, that's my own failing, but if you make it so obvious that everything is going to go to crap, then a reader has a chance to pull away before you really pull them in.

I can appreciate the writing, but, alas, I'm neither glad nor sad that I read the book.

Next up: In the Garden of Beasts: Love, Terror, and an American Family in Hitler's Berlin, by Erik Larson

33 Men: Inside the Miraculous Survival and Dramatic Rescue of the Chilean Miners (Jonathan Franklin)

Of course everyone knew a book about the incredible story of the Chilean miners would come out sooner rather than later. And this one is probably just the first of many more to come.

The drama of the rescue sucked me in, just as it did many around the world. I watched as much of the rescue as I could, even while I worked.

Jonathan Franklin managed to get permission to work closely with the rescue team. He has interviewed major players in this story, including all 33 miners. Though nobody can understand what these men went through, Franklin manages to give readers a good look at what life was like inside the mine. It became easy to forget, as the miners showed a united front, that 33 people living under those conditions had to have problems arise. Franklin makes these men human again without taking away from the extraordinary way they faced their ordeal.

Rescue workers also overcame unimaginable obstacles to get the job done. Men and women from all over the world pitched in to get these men out. Franklin describes these efforts in a way that makes you hold your breath, even though you know how the story ended.

If someone had written a movie with this premise, I'm pretty sure most people would have thought it ridiculous. The drama going on 2,300 feet below ground and the drama going on above with rescue workers, family members of the trapper miners, the press, and the Chilean government, is just something you can't make up. Thankfully, it had a happy resolution.

Next up: The Postmistress, by Sarah Blake.

The Tower, The Zoo, and The Tortoise (Julia Stuart)

OK, so, I totally got this book because of the cover. I had made it to the library one day with enough time to browse a little, and I saw this book in the New Fiction section. I'd hadn't read any reviews or seen it displayed at my usual bookstores. I'm glad I found it though.

Yes, the cover is very cute. The story may also seem cute, but it goes beyond that. Julia Stuart has written an bittersweet story with just a perfect mix of humor and drama.

The main character in the story is Balthazar Jones. He's a Beefeater, one of the guards that live in the Tower of London. I had no idea people still lived in the Tower until a trip to London I made with my husband and some friends in 2009. I wondered what it must be like to live in such a notorious landmark--one that attracts so many tourists each year. Besides the creepiness, what must it be like to live in one of  the most popular attractions in the UK?

Stuart uses this to craft a wonderful story that centers around Balthazar and his wife, Hebe. Their is a beautiful love story. They didn't become parents until much later in life after 20 years of marriage. Tragically, their son dies unexpectedly at the age of 11. How can a couple deal with such a devastating event?

That this is the main story line in the book should have made it quite difficult to read. But Stuart brings in a quirky cast of characters and plays up Balthazar's and Hebe's own idiosyncrasies to great effect. She manages to do this without taking away from their pain. It's really a funny and uplifting book.

The quirky cast includes an adulterous Ravenmaster; a Parson that's desperately in love with the barmaid that lives and works at the Rack and Ruin bar inside the Tower; Hebe's co-worker at the London Underground lost and found; and Balthazar's 100+ year tortoise. To add to all of this, Balthazar is put in charge of the Queen's menagerie after she decides to reinstate it in the Tower. Of course, chaos ensues.

A lovely book and I'm going to make sure I read Stuart's other works.

Next up: 33 Men: Inside the Miraculous Survival and Dramatic Rescue of the Chilean Miners, by Jonathan Franklin.

Dead Reckoning (Charlaine Harris)

Sookie finds herself once again in the middle of a lot of drama in the eleventh book in the series. She has two fairies living with her (they're family though). Eric, her vampire boyfriend, is in the middle of a power struggle with the new leadership in Louisiana. Someone throws a Molotov cocktail into Merlott's, and two private detectives let Sookie know that the last remaining Pelt family member has escaped police custody.

The bulk of the book revolves around Sookie, Eric, and Pam planning how to get rid of their enemy: the deputy sent to Louisiana representing the King of Nevada. This vampire has made no real secret of his desire to see Eric and his camp destroyed. Eric has no intention of letting this happen and Sookie will do what she can to help.

I did enjoy that Sam shows up a lot more in this book than he has in the past. Though he's a shifter, he adds a touch of humanity to Sookie that she seems to have started losing in more recent books. Of course she still has to watch her budget and she still works hard, but she has become more ruthless as the books have progressed. She has her reasons, but I still liked that she can have moments of normalcy.

In all honesty, this book did not impress me. I thoroughly enjoyed the first seven books in the series. Alas, the last two books in particular have felt like filler. I like Harris and I enjoy her work, but maybe her publisher should allow her to take more time writing her books. It's not absolutely necessary to have a new book every year.

At least some things do get resolved in this book. That didn't happen in the last one. Still, I think the rush to get a book out has caused some misjudgements. For instance, Alicide has an appearance in this book. That's great, since I really like Alcide. But he behaves in a way that seems completely out of character. I do understand that people sometimes behave in ways that don't make sense, but this just seemed to come out of nowhere. It just came across as ridiculous.

Will I read the next book in the series? Yes. After all, they are still entertaining enough to make it worth my while. Granted, it's a short while. If these books were longer I wouldn't stick with them. Still, I have faith Harris will have a rebound for the next one.

Next up: The Tower, The Zoo, and The Tortoise, by Julia Stuart.

 

The Weird Sisters (Eleanor Brown)

This is another book that's been quite in demand at the library. I can't quite remember what review I read that made me want to get on the waiting list for it. By the way, I'm still 91 in the queue at the Fairfax County Library. Thankfully, I only had to wait a few weeks for it to come through at the DC Library.

Anyway, after a few hiccups, I finally got the book. I was concerned that I wouldn't finish it in time to return it. I needn't have worried.

The book tells the story of Rose (Rosalind), Bean (Bianca), and Cordy (Cordelia). They are the daughters of a literature professor that specializes in Shakespeare. Rose is the eldest, engaged, and has no intention of leaving the college town where she grew up with her sisters. Bean and Cordy left at the first opportunity.

Bean lives in New York, but things don't turn out quite they way she wanted them to. She ends up back with her parents. Cordy lives the life of a wanderer. And it's not just that she likes to move around. She won't stay in one place long enough to ever have a permanent address (or a temporary one, really). Of course, she too goes back home when circumstances change drastically for her.

Rose had moved back in with their parents, since their mother has breast cancer and starts treatment a little before Bean and Cordy moved back in. And nothing brings out the best and the worst in a family than a crisis.

Brown decided to tell the story from the perspective of the sisters. Basically, all three of them are telling the story, almost as a chorus. Of course, they admit and hide their faults in very human ways. And although the line in the book that made it to the dust cover was this one: "See, we love each other. We just don't happen to like each other very much." But towards the end, you really get a sense that they start to like each other.

To a certain extent, anyway.

Next up: Dead Reckoning, by Charlaine Harris.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks (Rebecca Skloot)

Another book that has gotten quite a lot of buzz for a little while now. I wasn't sure if I wanted to read it, since it sounded like it would be a biology book and, really, even popular science books tend to go totally over my head. But the book club I attend picked this book for the next meeting. Considering I hadn't read the last two we had chosen (although I did read one of them right after the meeting), I figured I owed them this one.

I'm so glad I read it! Skloot explains the science in a way that's understandable to anyone and, most importantly, she tells the story of Henrietta Lacks and her family in a gripping way. After all, it's not like this story should surprise anyone. It may, but it shouldn't. It did, however, make me angry.

It all started in the early 1950s when Henrietta Lacks felt a lump in her cervix. The doctors didn't really pay attention at first. Indeed, she even had a healthy delivery of her last child after she'd felt something was off. Later on they found the cancer that would kill her sooner rather than later. Of course, the doctors at Johns Hopkins--which did have a ward for African-Americans at the time--took samples of her tumor and of healthy tissue. At the time, George Gey had been trying to cultivate cell cultures with little success in keeping them alive. With Henrietta's cells, however, he found what he'd been looking for.

Henrietta's cells, also known as HeLa, have been instrumental in plenty of medical breakthroughs in the last 60 years, including the development of vaccines and cancer treatments. Here's the thing: for-profit organizations have made millions upon millions selling HeLa cells. Nobody had bothered to tell the Lacks family, much less Henrietta when she still lived, that they had taken the cells and kept them alive. The Lackses did find out and much of the story Skloot tells is about their ordeal trying to learn and come to terms with what Henrietta's cells have meant to the world.

Skloot did a fantastic job of telling the story from all sides, though it's quite clear she became close to the Lacks family, in particular with Deborah Lacks, Henrietta's daughter. She's quite up front about it, so you know there is some bias in the book. Still, I think most of us would also have been bothered by the arrogance some doctors show in light of what happened. After a court decision that basically established that your cells are no longer your concern after they leave your body, a Stanford researcher smugly said that patients can try to negotiate what happens to their tissue when they come in with a ruptured appendix. It still pisses me off to think that someone can be such a damn bastard.

My reaction probably stems from the fact that I intensely dislike doctors. I only go if I have to. That's my own issue. That said, I doubt people would object to having their cells used in research that has helped save lives. But doctors have a very unfortunate tendency to forget these cells come from people. And really, Deborah Lacks wanted everyone to remember that her mother was a person--someone that had children and loved and felt pain and happiness. A little respect and recognition would have been nice.

Great book and very much worth reading.

Next up: The Weird Sisters, by Eleanor Brown.

The Tiger's Wife (Tea Obreht)

This book has gotten quite a lot of buzz. Tea Obreht has already won plenty of critical acclaim for her short stories, so expectations for her first book are high. And she hasn't disappointed.

I will admit that this book probably went over my head. OK, it totally went over my head. But I still enjoyed the Obreht's writing and her creativity. The book has multiple story lines with the story of Natalia and her grandfather serving as the anchor. The book gets its title from a story Natalia's grandfather tells her about his childhood.

Surprisingly, that story doesn't dominate the bulk of the book. It shares the spotlight with the story of the deathless man. Natalia's grandfather meets the deathless man during one of the wars that appear in the book. This character should come across as a little creepy, but he grew on me. The man is shot and drowned and still manages to keep himself in a pretty good mood. Who would have thought, right?

I don't think I'd ever read something set in the modern-day former Yugoslavia. I'm around the author's age (OK, she's a couple of years younger) so I don't remember too much about the conflict there in the early 90s. Obreht took me there, even if on a bit of a surreal cloud. Maybe it's more of a statement on what I usually read than on Obreht's writing, but I haven't read anything quite like this. If you're looking for a casual read, this book isn't for you. But the writing is quite enjoyable--and quite good--and worth the extra brain cells required.

Next up: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lack, by Rebecca Skloot.

The Countess (Rebecca Johns)

This should have been an awesomely gruesome and creepy book. In The Countess, Johns tells the story of Elizabeth Bathory, aka the Blood Countess. Reportedly, she killed hundreds of young women that worked for her and she bathed in their blood to remain young and beautiful.

Seriously. This should have been super duper awesomely creepy!

And it wasn't. Totally wasn't. In fact, it was kind of boring. That this is my reaction is partially my fault. After all, when you pick up a book about one of the most notorious serial killers in history, you have certain expectations. This book did not meet my expectations.

Johns decided to write the story from Bathory's perspective. In the book, Bathory is writing to her son about what "really happened". She starts describing the day when the bricklayer and his son came to wall her up in her prison. Elizabeth Bathory was pretty much entombed alive in one of her castles. Not exactly a noble end to a member of one of the most powerful families in Hungary at the time. She also married into another powerful family. The story does go that she earned her husband affection after disciplining an unruly servant girl. He, too, seems like quite a piece of work. That said, it wasn't unusual for servants to get this type of treatment back in the 16th century. Still, Elizabeth Bathory probably took it to an extreme.

Did it play into some people's hands that she turned out to have gone completely nuts and beaten and starved so many of the girls in her service? Yes, it did. After her husband's death, Bathory controlled plenty of wealth and holdings. I'm sure several powerful men, including the king of Hungary, had to have their eyes set on her properties. That they did not order her execution is a testament to her power and standing.

For me, this book held my interest in the beginning, where the reader sees Bathory's father punish a gypsy that sold his daughters to the Turks in quite a gruesome way. After that, it told a similar stories to others I've read. Like Catherine d'Medici  and others that entered arranged marriages, she has to struggle to make her marriage work. It picked up towards then end, when other start questioning Bathory's actions. For most of the book, she talks about disciplining her servants as a chore. It is chilling, but her focus really lies in other things so we don't get a good idea of how many women she may have killed. I suppose that's part of her psychosis. She doesn't really think about what she's done because she doesn't think it matters.

It was probably a very realistic portrayal. Much more so than most vampire novels out there. Johns did a great job. I think it just the book just wasn't for me. Which, you know, is fine. I don't regret reading it, so I guess that's something.

Next up: The Tiger's Wife, by Tea Obreht.

When Tito Loved Clara (Jon Michaud)

I'm pretty sure I decided to read this book after reading a very positive review, but for the life of me I can't remember from what publication. Still, I'm glad I stumbled upon that review. That's one of the reason's book sections should never die. Readers need more ways of finding great books.

Anyway, When Tito Loved Clara tells a story from three perspectives. Of course, the narrative comes mostly from Tito and Clara. They were high school sweethearts. They kept their relationship under wraps because their fathers had a falling out. You'd think both fathers would come across negatively, but Michaud definitely has some villains in this story and Tito's father isn't one of them. Clara's father--well.

Clara and Tito end have taken very different roads. Clara went to college, married a white man, moved to the suburbs, and basically avoids going back to her old neighborhood at all cost. Tito still lives with his parents, in the same apartment, and has held the same job since high school.

And although they have the same ethnic background--they are both Dominicans--their family roots differ in key ways. Clara's father and stepmother abuse her, while Tito's parents treat him lovingly. Actually, they kind of spoil him. Most of the story takes place while these two are in their mid-thirties, so, really, Tito shouldn't still live with his parents.

Clara's life, of course, isn't the stuff of fairy tales. Even though she's achieved a certain lifestyle, she still has plenty of problems. Even though she and her husband (Thomas, by the way) have a little boy, they are having problems getting pregnant again. She also has to deal with a crazy sister that dumps her pregnant teenage daughter on her. Not the mention some drama with her laid off husband that she doesn't even know about.

Tito, in the meantime, has dreamed up a happy alternative life while not doing all that much to make that happen. He still carries a torch for Clara, even though he hasn't seen her since the summer after graduating high school. Honestly, though it may seem sweet for a little bit, after a while Tito can get a little creepy.

Dominican culture features prominently. It's enjoyable, though some stereotyping inevitably happens. Although, really, plenty of stereotypes about use Caribbean Latinos have at least some truth to them. Happily, my sister is NOTHING like Clara's sister. Lord help anyone that does.

Good first book. I'm glad I read it.

Next up: The Countess, by Rebecca Johns.

The Mistress of Nothing (Kate Pullinger)

So the reviewer in The Washington Post that complained about the fact that this book beat out Alice Munro's Too Much Happiness for the Governor General's Literary Award (a Canadian prize) wrote that this book read like a romance novel and that it was pretty much a big mistake to give it the award instead of Munro's collection of short stories.

I can say with all honesty that this makes me think that this person has never read a romance novel. So there! Romance novels have a formula, and this book does not follow it at all. At. All.

Of course, most of these awards go to books that are depressing. Most great works of literature are depressing. I enjoy books with tragic stories, as anyone can tell from checking out this blog. This book was just as depressing as Munro's. Does that mean it was better written? No. I can say Munro's work stories definitely had much more complicated plots. I don't think that means that The Mistress of Nothing isn't a good book.

Anyway, I don't presume to know what the judges at these competitions think. Though I love to read, I can't say that I enjoy high literature. So if you decide to check out those books, you can decide for yourself who should have won that prize.

In my opinion, Pullinger delivered a well written and well researched book. She wrote the story from the point of view of Sally Naldrett, Lady Lucie Duff Gordon's maid. Lady Duff Gordon suffered from tuberculosis and the doctors told her she needed a drier climate, so she moved to Egypt. Sally went with her. In Luxor, Sally falls in love with their Egyptian guide, Omar. They have an affair that has tragic consequences--more for Sally than for Omar.

I hadn't heard of Lady Duff Gordon before. She published a book of her letters from her time in Egypt and had gained some fame as a literary translator. Apparently, many that knew her loved her. Sally did, too. Unfortunately, in this story, she comes across as a heinous bitch. Not all the time, mind you, but she treats Sally horribly once she finds out about the affair. In a way, she personifies someone that I've come to dislike intensely: a person of privileged that has the ability to show kindness as long as it's towards someone that doesn't affect them directly.

Pullinger kept the story moving pretty well, and Sally makes a good narrator. Maybe it would have been a more exciting story if she had chosen to tell it from Lady Duff Gordon's point of view, but it's great to get the story from a perspective that most tend to ignore.

If this review seems a bit tepid, it's because my reaction to the book was tepid. To put it simple: it was alright.

Next up: When Tito Loved Clara, by Jon Michaud.

Room (Emma Donoghue)

I heard from quite a few people that this book was absolutely amazing. A co-worker told me she pretty much locked herself away an entire weekend to finish it. One of my book club friends also highly recommended it, that it is one of the best books she's read.

Usually this level of praise makes me skeptical. Not to mention that I'd already decided to avoid the book because of the subject matter. A little five year-old boy, Jack, tells this story. He lives with his mother in Room. He doesn't know anything else and thinks the world outside Room is Outer Space. So, everything in Room, to him, is unique. So it's Table, instead of the table; Toilet, instead of the toilet; Rug, instead of the rug.

Of course, that means his mother had him in Room and that she too can't get out. The man that locked her up, only known as Old Nick, kidnapped her at 19. So this gives me the hibbie jibbies. She does the best she can raising Jack, teaching him what she can and making due with what Old Nick provides. Mind you, he doesn't really provide for them. She has to ask for things like medicine for "Sundaytreat," as Jack calls it.

Even though Jack is telling the story, you can get a feel for how his mother feels. They have few books, which of course they've read multiple times. She tries to keep him as active as possible within an 11' by 11' space. Her teeth are rotting, she suffers from bouts of depression. All things considered, she's doing an admirable job of raising her son. Considering the inherent boredom that must come within this type of situation, the book is never boring. Donoghue has painfully flawed characters--something to appreciate, since it would have been so easy to make Jack and his mom saint-like.

I think the story didn't end up creeping me out because Jack tells it. He doesn't know anything different from Room, so his perceptions aren't shaped on what he's missing. He's smart and inquisitive, and the combination of that with his lack of knowledge of the outside world drive his mother into taking a huge risk to get him out of Room.

Totally worth the short amount of time it takes to read. That doesn't mean it's simple and you'll forget about it as soon as you finish it. You'll be thinking about it for a while.

Next up: Mistress of Nothing,  by Kate Pullinger. This is the book that beat out Alice Munro's Too Much Happiness for the Governor General's Literary Award, in Canada. The reviewer from WaPo was quite outraged by this. I'll let you know if I think he's right!

The Distant Hours (Kate Morton)

Another fantastic book from Kate Morton! I stumbled upon her work previously when I picked up a copy of The House at Riverton. It was tragic and beautiful and mysterious and I enjoyed ever moment of it. Morton continued in that vein with The Forgotten Garden, again a tragic story that you just couldn't put away.

I highly doubt Morton will ever write a book with a syrupy plot. And, frankly, that's not what you should look for in her books. It's not what I look to her for anyway.

We start Edith, who lives in London and works in publishing. She developed a love of books after her mother, Meredith, gave her a copy of The True History of the Mud Man when she was laid up in bed sick as a child. Turns out that the writer of that book, Raymond Blythe, lived at Milderhurst castle with his three daughters. Persephone (Percy) and Seraphina (Saffy) the twins, and Juniper--and Meredith lived with them after she her parents had her evacuated out of London during World War II.

Meredith and Juniper had developed a close friendship. Indeed, our story starts when Meredith finally receives a letter Juniper had written 50 years before. Edith is there when Meredith receives the letter. Edith  visits Milderhurst thought she doesn't tell the sisters who she is; she finds that the three sisters never married and have lived at Milderhurst castle all these years. Juniper, however, in her delusional state still manages to know Edith isn't a stranger. Of course, Juniper thinks Edith is Meredith.

From that point Edith does everything she can to find out as much as possible about her mother's life, especially of her time at Milderhurst. If you've read Morton's previous works, you know the story will have plenty of twists and turns. The Distant Hours does differ in that it has a much more Gothic feel to the story. Morton manages the pacing quite well, though I do confess that I was tempted more than once to look ahead to see what happened. It also helps that a literary mystery has a pivotal role in the plot.

So, bottom line: loved this book!

Next up: Room, by Emma Donoghue

Murder in Passy (Cara Black)

Can't believe I'm already reviewing the next installment in the Aimee Leduc series! But yes, I made sure I put myself on the waiting list at the library as soon as they uploaded the record for this book. The action in this story takes place about a month or two after the end of the last book, Murder in the Palais Royal (my very first book review here!).

This time around Aimee becomes involved in a murder mystery that hits almost as close to home as the murder of her fiance, Yves (Murder in the Rue de Paradis). Morbier, her godfather, asks her to check up on his girlfriend, Xavierre. Turns out Xavierre had some involvement with ETA, the Basque terrorist group that operates in Spain and France. This involvement costs Xavierre her life and Morbier comes out as the main suspect. Alas, things aren't complicated enough in this scenario for Black's pleasure. Nope, we have to have Morbier involved in an investigation into corruption inside the police department itself. This makes his situation even more precarious.

And Aimee's possible new man, Melac, the police detective that we first meet in Palais Royal shows up again. He's not Aimee's typical bad boy, but he's no shrinking violet. Considering that she has slept with a murderer before, it's not out of the question that Melac might be involved with the corrupt flics Morbier is investigating.

All of the telltale features of the series appears. Aimee steps on dog poop wearing Louboutin heels, she runs around wearing designer clothes and complains about having gained a kilo. (That's about 1.6 pounds, by the way.) Her partner, Rene, doesn't show up as much in this book as in previous ones. I'm hoping that we get to see more about what's going on in his personal life. He seems to have met someone and I do hope that works out. You can't help but want Rene to find some happiness.

So another good story from Ms. Black. I hope she doesn't kill Melac off or worse. It can come in handy for Aimee to have a flic on her side.

Next up: The Distant Hours, by Kate Morton. I've been trying to fit this one into my schedule for a while. I really enjoyed Morton's first two books, The House at Riverton and The Forgotten Garden. Hope she can keep up the good work!

A Red Herring Without Mustard (Alan Bradley)

Alan Bradley has brought readers his third Flavia de Luce mystery. Flavia, a very brilliant scientist even if she is only eleven years old, seems to have a special ability of finding trouble--as in, finding dead bodies and such.

This time around, Flavia has to find out who attacked a Gypsy fortune teller that she led to a section of her family's property to settle for a little while. Of course, on the heels of that attack, Flavia finds the body of the town bully hanging from the trident of the sculpture of Poseidon in at Buckshaw (the de Luce family home).

Flavia also has to still deal with her two older sisters picking on her--all three of them are prodigies in their own way. Their mother's death continues to play a big part in the family's dynamics, as is to be expected. This book goes a little deeper into Flavia's feelings about growing up without her mother. Economic problems have come to the fore as well.

In this book, Bradley also goes a little deeper into Flavia's feelings of loneliness. She even acknowledges that she may want to make friends. It's great that Bradley has made sure to keep Flavia evolving, even though the action in this book happens relatively close to the action from the previous book. Like most brilliant people, Flavia finds herself alone more often than not. Maybe Bradley will give her a sidekick other than her trusty bike, Gladys?

Next up: Murder in Passy, by Cara Black

Parisians: An Adventure History of Paris (Graham Robb)

I've been to Paris once for a whopping three days. Can I just say that those three days were some of the most awesome of my life. And no, I didn't spend my time seeing the "real" Paris. Screw that. I was on vacation.

We stayed right in the Marais, 4th arrondissement just so you know. That's right, right in the center of Paris. If you walked down the block and looked straight down the street you could see Ile St. Louis and about a 20 minute walk to Ile de la Cite.

So, yes, I spent my time being an obnoxious tourist. But, I've read a lot about Paris and I've continued to read up on one of the most fascinating cities in the world. Graham Robb tells the story of this wonderful city through short stories--real stories. And, as if I needed any more convincing, Robb has managed to make me fall in love even more with the history of Paris. He starts with the story of the attempted escape of the royal family from the city after the start of the revolution.

My favorite story was the one based on the real story on which Alexander Dumas based The Count of Monte Cristo. Apparently, a police officer that worked in the archives found the notes on this bizarre case. Of course, another writer came along and embellished the story almost beyond recognition. Still, even if the most stripped down version of this story is true--holy crap! Seriously. Holy crap! Supposedly, this cobbler was set up right before his wedding by his friends as a joke. They denounced him as a possible spy. Back then, that wasn't something you played around with. Only one of the four stayed out of the prank, but he also didn't warn the cobbler. I don't want to give to much away, so I won't give out too many details. But let me tell you, this guy went all in to get back at these guys.

Paris of the olden days had nothing to do with the image portrayed in Sabrina. It still doesn't. I wish I could go back to see it. It's so easy to forget that Paris has an incredibly dark side. This book brings out the best and worst of Paris. (Vidocq anyone?) This is totally one of the more enjoyable histories of Paris out there.

Next up: A Red Herring Without Mustard, by Alan Bradley

Too Much Happiness: Stories (Alice Munro)

I'm ashamed to admit I've never read anything by Alice Munro before. Of course, she's a critically acclaimed writer. This book garnered her the Man Booker Prize, though she lost to a pseudo-romance novel for a big prize in Canada. Actually, I read an article in the Washington Post about how this was a travesty. So, I decided to check it out from the library.

This is a collection of short stories, so if you're looking for a novel, move along. If you're looking for something easy to read, move along. The writing isn't particularly complicated, but I will admit that I felt all these stories had a point and it went totally over my head. The first story, about a woman who had basically the most awful thing possible happen to her at the hands of her husband, I did understand. Surprising, since my situation is nothing like hers, but I found the story heartbreaking and beautiful in its tragedy.

Most of the characters in the stories are older, so that's probably why the stories went a little over my head. I can't say that I've shared similar life experiences with them, although that should stop me from understanding them to a certain extent. Adultery makes up a good chunk of these stories and Munro takes a look at it from several sides. I did find her grasp of this theme fascinating.

The story that stuck with me the most, however, was Child's Play. The narrator of that story is an older woman that recounts her experiences with a special needs girl whose family rented a floor in the house where the narrator and her family live. I didn't like her from the beginning and I totally hated her at the end. Munro totally masters the subject. Her writing isn't judgmental at all, but it still manages to create quite a reaction. 

None of these stories have happy endings, actually, so if you're looking for something uplifting to read, move along. Still, I can't deny the power of Alice Munro's writing. She keeps it relatively simple, but you feel the undercurrents of complexity behind the deceptively bare writing. I can't say I will go out of my way to read more of her works for now, but I will be looking her up again later.

Next up: Parisians: An Adventure History of Paris, by Graham Robb

Cleopatra: A Life (Stacy Shiff)

I have read several books and articles about Cleopatra. These include fiction (The Memiors of Cleopatra, by Margaret George) and nonfiction (Cleopatra and Antony, by Diana Preston). Of course, I've seen the movie version with Elizabeth Taylor. And I even watched the mini-series in ABC with Billy Zane as Marc Antony (weird).

I mention this because I want to make the point that I may have read more about this woman than most general readers. Stacy Shiff's book will enlighten most general readers. Her focus lies in Cleopatra's brilliant maneuvering in circumstances that would have bested the most seasoned politician. At the age when most of us now are in college or just trying to figure out what to do with ourselves, she tied her fate to that of the most famous Roman general of her time: Julius Caesar.

She had a vast fortune, and her relationship with Marc Antony--the stuff of legends--made her even wealthier. Most film renditions of her life cut out her three children with Antony. Caesarion always shows up, but only when Caesar recognizes him and towards the end when his mother loses everything. It's easy to forget, then, that Cleopatra had no interest in taking Rome. After all, if she had Caesar's only son, why not try to take over the capital of the nascent empire? Her aim, however, always focused on keeping Egypt independent and a force in the Mediterranean world.

Cleopatra managed to outlive her siblings, no small feat considering the Ptolomys made a nasty habit out of conflicts among family members. This doesn't just mean the normal family drama. The fact that Caesarion never tried to kill his mother and that Cleopatra actually had her son learn about governing made them the exception to the rule.

Schiff's writing makes history interesting. Quite frankly, writers like her keeping coming back to history books. Some writers forget that history has the word "story" in it. Schiff tells Cleopatra's story as accurately as possible while maintaining the excitement of what actual took place. It's really amazing that Cleopatra's story has been embellished so much. As Schiff tells it, the real story is amazing all on it's own.

Next up: Too Much Happiness, by Alice Munro

The Artist, the Philosopher, and the Warrior: The Intersecting Lives of Da Vinci, Machiavelli, and Borgia and the World They Shaped (Paul Strathern)

A mouthful of a title, to say the least. It reflects the author's ambition, since he meant to write a book about the brief period--less than a year--in which Leonardo Da Vinci worked for Cesare Borgia, while Niccolo Machiavelli served as Florence's envoy to Borgia's court.

Of course, most people know something about these three men. Strathern doesn't make any big revelations about these three men, but for someone that hasn't read much about this time period, this book will be very interesting.

One statement he does make that I hadn't considered before referred to Leonardo's influence on the world. The man that made drawings of helicopters and tanks, who painted the famed Mona Lisa and The Last Supper, had little to no influence on science. In part, this happened because Leonardo decided to keep many of his ideas secret. Strathern posits that this happened in part because of the horrors that Leornardo saw while working for Cesare Borgia.

Few historical figures stir such sinister feelings as does the Borgia family. Really, they didn't do anything that most powerful families wouldn't do back in those days (even nowadays). Yet they did do it openly, which came as a surprise. I went to Catholic school when I was little, so reading about the Borgias comes with a few shocks. Although I don't necessarily think that some of the allegations about them are true, I wouldn't put it passed them. Cesare Borgia took advantage, schemed and plotted, and he succeeded for as long as his father lived. Like Strathern, I agree that he may not have imploded if he hadn't been at death's door when Alexander VI died. Would Italy become a unified country 300 years earlier than it did if Cesare Borgia had triumphed? Who know. In the end, nothing that he built outlasted him. And at his death, he was only 31 years old.

Strathern does more for Machiavelli than for his other two subjects. Maybe this is because I knew less about him than about Leonardo and Cesare, but I think this may be the case for most people. Strathern quotes many of Machiavelli's letters to his friends and gives a pretty good idea of Machiavelli would have been like. Indeed, I think he would have been a lot more interesting to talk to than Borgia or Leonardo. (Borgia might try to maim or kill you, while Leonardo might have been too smart for me to understand.) Despite his fame for writing a manual for dictators, Machiavelli doesn't like the type of person that would have put people in harms way for no reason. If anything, he understood the world around him and pointed out truths that plenty of people didn't want to hear.

Sometimes Strathern repeats himself a little too often. Each chapter reads almost as if you didn't have to read the ones before. I would understand that if it were a book of essays on these three men, but it isn't. Other than that, Strathern writes in a straightforward, smart, yet accessible manner. Quite enjoyable.

Next up: Cleopatra: A Life, by Stacy Schiff. And I'm super excited that it finally came in at the library for me. I've read plenty about her, but reviewers sang Schiff's praises for her writing so I'll give this one a go.

Fly Away Home (Jennifer Weiner)

I can't believe it has been over ten years since I first picked Jennifer Weiner's first novel, Good in Bed. The first time I saw the title I thought it would be smutty. Pleasantly, it wasn't. This didn't stop the security person at the airport to make a comment about how much she loved erotic novels while she was going through my very carefully packed bag.

Regardless, I have read almost all of Weiner's books since. I've loved everyone of them (although Certain Girls didn't really do it for me as much as the others). Fly Away Home totally lived up to my expectations.

Weiner has three narrators to tell the story. Sylvie, the mother, is married to Richard Woodruff, a US senator. Diane and Lizzie are her daughters and they both have their issues. And no, they aren't minor, quirky issues. These are big problems. The book starts with the incident that serves as a catalyst for Sylvie reexamining her life and her relationship with her daughters. Richards is discovered to have had an affair with an aide, who he helped land a job at a DC law firm.

Old story, right? Practically a cliche, you say? Well, in Weiner's hands the reader gets to see the fall out from the family's perspective. She does still cover themes that are staples for her, such as body image and the relationship between sisters. It also doesn't paint any of these women's choices with a black and white pallet. They may not always be sympathetic. Still, people aren't perfect and making bad choices doesn't necessarily make you a bad person.

This book has been labeled as "chick lit". Like Wiener, I do find it a little offensive that so much of women's fiction is pigeon-holed into this label. Lets face it, it kind of belittles them. We don't have a genre of "dude lit" even though it should totally exists. Anyway, Weiner is a fantastic writer and she totally deserves more respect.

So that's my love letter to Jennifer Weiner. I will most certainly read anything else she puts out for years to come.

Next up: I think this is the first nonfiction book I review here. The Artist, the Philosopher, and the Warrior: The Intersecting Lives of Da Vinci, Machiavelli, and Borgia and the World They Shaped.

The Bad Girl (Mario Vargas Llosa)

I read this for the book club I participate in. The idea had been that we expand our horizons and read something from a foreign author. Mario Vargas Llosa made a great choice, since he has just won the Nobel Prize in Literature.

A friend of mine had told me she wasn't a fan of Vargas Llosa, so I hadn't felt the need to rush to read any of his things. I must say that most of my impressions about Vargas Llosa came from her.

So when this book totally surprised me. Of course, Vargas Llosa is a good writer. My friend didn't say otherwise. But I knew he was fairly conservative and my friend had confirmed this.

This book may have a political message, but if it did I missed it. It's about Ricardo, a rather unambitious though intelligent man whose main goal in life is to live in Paris. When he is a teenager, two sisters that say they hail from Chile move into his barrio in Lima. One of them steals his heart forever.

Like Ricardo, we only know her consistently throughout the book as "the bad girl". She calls him "the good boy". Both labels fit quite perfectly. Ricardo is good guy that loves this woman despite everything she does to him. And she pulls quite a lot of crap on him. She constantly comes into his life and leaves him, moving all over the world. He does move to Paris fairly early in the book, realizing his one goal early in his life. This isn't enough for her. The bad girl needs to constantly move, constantly connive, constantly deceive. She wants a level of security that is unattainable and that eludes her because of her own need to continuously look for something better than what she has at that moment. I found it really hard to have any kind of sympathy for her.

Ricardo knows he shouldn't continue his relationship with this woman. Yet he can't help himself. No matter what she does, he can't stop loving her. I have yet to meet a man like this, but I'm sure there are a few out there like this. I identified with him a lot, probably more than I would like. He doesn't want to conquer the world, he just wants to live quietly in Paris with the woman he loves. That sounds pretty good to me.

One important thing: I read the Spanish version of this book. So my opinion of the writing doesn't take into account the translation. Vargas Llosa doesn't need me to say he is a good writer. He has a million and a half prizes. I can only say that I enjoyed it and didn't find it stuffy or too high end for me to understand. I'm glad I read it.

Next up: Fly Away Home, by Jennifer Weiner.