June 25, 2015
Author James Salter died on Friday, June 19. His death shocked his devoted fans, having nothing to do with it being unexpected. He was 90 years old. The shock has everything to do with recognizing what we’ve lost: A writer who created perfect sentences and characters that flowed altogether into engaging, beautiful and moving stories. The quality of his writing style, his history as a combat pilot during the Korean War, his enduring classic A Sport and a Pastime (1967) all speak to Salter’s rich life and literary legacy; and yet, many readers don’t know him. He’s been ubiquitously described as “a writer’s writer” and a favorite of critics. The New York Times obituary headline reads, “James Salter, a ‘Writer’s Writer’ Short on Sales but Long on Acclaim, Dies at 90.” Pulitzer Prize-winning book critic Michael Dirda captured the essence of Salter in The Washington Post when he wrote, “He can, when he wants, break your heart with a sentence.”
With the media reacting to his death, I read many articles about James Salter this week, particularly to find out if something I recalled about the author was indeed true: that he once owned a bread company in Columbus, Ohio. I’d heard of it from a general conversation along the way, sometime, somewhere, many years ago, but it wasn’t until 2003 that it was confirmed during an unusual conversation at Barnes & Noble.
I approached the information desk to inquire if they had a copy of the then new book Lucky Girls: Stories (P.S.) by Nell Freudenberger. The man at the desk, tall, older, sophisticated, remarked, “Oh, that’s a very good book.” I rarely if ever encounter someone who knows literature at the B&N information desk, and by that I mean such a book as Freudenberger’s debut story collection that was relatively unknown and not among the popular books. My filter was off, and I blurted, “How would you know?” Not meaning to be rude, I made the comment in shock that he recognized the title, let alone that he had read the book. I was more trying to ask out of curiosity, “How and why do you know this book exists? Where did you hear about it?”
He didn’t flinch, rather kept looking up the title and said, “I read the books of authors who come out of the Iowa Writers Workshop.” That’s the creative writing program in Iowa City famous for graduating some of America’s best authors. I explained why I’d asked, and he agreed about the lack of literary knowledge at the information desk. He said, in so many words, he was a duck out of water and introduced himself as Dennis Howard. And then he said it, the astonishing statement that he knew James Salter and they had owned a bread company together.
It was called Pane. I remember the storefront on Columbus’ Grandview Avenue back in the 1990s. It was where Vino Vino, a restaurant and wine bar, is now located. A few years later at a used and rare bookstore, I purchased a first edition of James Salter’s Dusk and Other Stories signed by Salter. Beneath his name he wrote, “Pane 1/19/95.” I never saw Dennis Howard again at that Barnes & Noble.
Of all that I read about James Salter this week, I only found this one reference to Pane and Ohio, in a New Yorker article from April 2013: “The movie money didn’t last; he lost a lot of it years ago when he and a friend opened a bakery in Ohio. The venture failed, sticking Salter with heavy debts and a heavy heart.”
If you’ve never read the work of James Salter, I recommend first reading his autobiography Burning the Days. It’s one of my favorite memoirs, as I was hooked by Salter’s stories about being a U.S. Air Force fighter pilot during the Korean War, a writer in Manhattan and a script writer in Hollywood. The memoir is a treasure trove of books to put on the reading list from his mentions of authors he knew and books he read. I went on the hunt for two novels he mentions, now out of print: Disenchantment by C. E. Montague, recommended to Salter by his agent, and Lucy Crown by Irwin Shaw, of which Salter writes:
“[Irwin Shaw] had the most difficult time of his life with that book. It had taken four years. He wrote it as a play first but it was no good. Then he wrote a hundred pages of the book and again gave up, but his editor at Random House, Saxe Commins, persuaded him to go on. It eventually sold more copies than anything he ever wrote.”
I also recommend reading Salter’s short stories, such as in his collections Dusk and Other Stories (1988) and Last Night: Stories (2005), particularly the story “Last Night” in the latter. All That Is (2013), his final book and novel, spent time on The New York Times best-seller list but got mixed reviews.
Thank you for your wonderful books, James Salter. Rest in peace.
June 13, 2015
Every once in a while — but not very often — I read a book that’s so good I don’t stop to take notes. I also refrain from putting sticky notes beside significant passages for quick reference. I’m so caught up in what’s going on that any pause feels like too much of an interruption. The Defence is one of those books, a fast-paced, clever albeit far-fetched legal thriller set in New York City. I read it breathlessly, breezing through the concise chapters, filled with anticipation of what would happen next, riveted and wondering to the very end.
Within the first few pages, ex-con, trial lawyer, former alcoholic protagonist Eddie Flynn is kidnapped by Russian mobsters who’ve placed a bomb inside Eddie’s coat. Their boss, Olek Volchek, is on trial for murder, and Eddie, who hasn’t practiced law in a year, is being forced to represent him. To ensure cooperation, Volchek’s thugs have kidnapped Flynn’s 10-year-old daughter Amy.
Four different law firms already have said Volchek is impossible to defend. His case is a slam dunk for the impressive prosecutor, Miriam Sullivan. Her star witness, Little Benny, was the hit man hired by Volchek, and he got caught at the scene of the murder. Little Benny’s fully prepared to give up his boss. Volchek’s plan for Eddie is not to secure a verdict of innocence. He wants Eddie to bring the bomb into the courtroom and blow up Benny. Eddie, however, convinces Volchek to at least let him try to win the case. He has 31 hours to pull it off.
Eddie’s definitely in a bind, but being an ex-con, he’s got instincts, insights, quick-thinking and sticky fingers that allow him to manipulate his captors. His talents create surprising twists and turns, as do the many things Eddie discovers about Volchek and his men. Eddie’s back story of why he became a con artist, what caused him to leave the con game, how he became a trial lawyer and why he quit and became a drunk calls upon our sympathy and makes him all the more likable. Best of all, the way Eddie ticks makes him a fun guy to take us on this narrative roller-coaster ride filled with clever hi-jinks, scamming, conspiracies and a line-up of tense moments that feel like Eddie is doomed.
I’m not one to have patience with improbable scenarios. The exception, however, is when the plot construction and character composition is so well done I ignore that little voice inside my head that rings the implausible bell because, who cares! The tension never lets up in The Defence and, equally important, neither does the entertainment that includes a “turned” FBI agent, a jury consultant who reads lips, Ninja bikers and a Mafia strongman who goes by the name Lizard (you don’t want to know). Author Steve Cavanagh pulls it off brilliantly, while Eddie channels the advice of his father, a con man himself, who told Eddie to always “hold it together no matter what.” And he does.
Now comes the part where I may disappoint you, my fellow Americans. The Defence is published by Orion books in the United Kingdom and slated for publication by Flatiron Books (Macmillan) in the United States in 2016, according to an email from the author. That said, new and used copies can be purchased on Amazon, some shipping from the U.K. Readers who use the library, Kindle or Barnes & Noble Nook will need to wait for the U.S. release.
Finally, a tip for readers who love mysteries, suspense and thrillers: The Mysterious Bookshop in New York City is where I found my copy of The Defence. I shop there as a book collector, able to get first editions of new, signed books by authors in the United Kingdom. They’ve sold out of The Defence; however, The Mysterious Bookshop has several Crime book clubs that might interest you, including The British Crime Collectors Club “for collectors of ‘true first editions’ published in the United Kingdom, as well as those who can’t wait for the US release date.” That would be me. Maybe it’s you, too.
June 7, 2015
In Another Country: Selected Stories introduces us to some uniquely powerful stories. The plots derive from everyday experiences, but the thematic focus hones in on a deeper life meaning. For many of the characters, this meaning is beyond their reach and so their souls become lost and leaden; and yet, for those connected to it, there is a rush of learning, a surge of strength, a flight into invention and a contented wisdom.
In the story “Tea at the Midland,” a woman having tea with her lover can’t take her eyes away from the wind surfers in the bay beyond their window. She sees intoxicating wonder by their freedom in the light, wind and water, but her lover wants her to see only him. He is festered with irritations. In the story “Loss,” a businessman caught in a relentless, successful existence watches his soul leave him during a presentation. And in “Memorial,” a college professor’s former student says, “…I think he directed me into plenitude and it’s up to me to grasp it, bear it, say how it was and is.”
Those who see the deeper meaning are portrayed as set apart, lonely and self-possessed, as is the college professor, whose funeral service is barely attended, and also Owen Shepperd in the story “The Cave.” Owen takes his girlfriend Lou Johnson to the limestone country of his childhood where he’s enchanted by the water underneath the rock. They reach a cave where they hear the waterfall that is the source for the limestone streams, but Owen’s insight alludes to a greater source in the whole world order of life. Indeed, he is aware of what author David Constantine describes as “the thinness of the habitable skin of the earth,” which means Owen is able to see into astonishing, sacred spaces.
“Why did you want to listen to it again? Lou asked. Because, Owen answered, I’ve often – and in some periods constantly – wanted to live as though I could always hear that cave. I don’t want to live forgetting there’s a noise like that.”
These are not stories to read all at once. They are too rich for that, demanding to be read one or maybe two at a time, allowing space so as to fully comprehend the intention of each story’s sequence of events.
Sanctuary is a must for these thoughtful and melancholy characters. It arrives in one story with the encompassing noise of trains that pass overhead; in another with poetry books delivered by the mailman; and in another by a persistent white horse. In the last story, Constantine paints a parallel of one world as a sanctuary from another world’s man-made chaos.
David Constantine is well-known in Britain for his award-winning poetry, translations and fiction. In Another Country: Selected Stories is his literary debut in the United States. The flawless prose pulls us in with the grace of meaningful and eye-opening poetry. It is a kind of excellence rarely published nowadays. The rewards of these stories come immediately, and then again, long after the last story, as if we’ve been struck with an aftershock of hope that we, too, can experience the noise in the cave and the white horse.
May 27, 2015
The Given World is curiously inviting. Not much in the action creates intrigue or question, and yet I couldn’t stop turning the pages. The narrator is a Montana woman named Riley, who physically lives forward into time but remains emotionally stuck in the disappearance of her older brother during the Vietnam War. Something about her, and the way she speaks, kept me reading.
The only time we see Riley and her older brother interacting is in one chapter, on the family farm, months before Mick leaves for college. It’s enough, though, because the scenes perfectly capture nine-year-old Riley enchanted by her protective, wiser brother. He is the center of her world. The day he begins packing for college, Riley throws stones at him from the roof of the house and then falls and injures herself. We understand how desperate she feels. Four years later, in 1968, when Riley is 13, the Army informs the family that Mick is missing in Vietnam.
We next read about Riley when she’s 16 years old, hooked on mescaline and romantically involved with Darrell, a young man from an Indian reservation near the farm. Darrell devastates her with news of his upcoming departure for Vietnam. Riley gets pregnant and leaves the baby with her parents, moving briefly to Missoula and then permanently to San Francisco. There she works as a driver for the San Francisco Chronicle and then as a bartender.
Riley gets caught in a vortex of incomprehensible loss, taking drugs, drinking and pushing people away, perpetuating a cycle of attachment and loss with those who come into her life. The cycle becomes routine, even predictable, which fulfills the thematic purpose of the story but in the middle slows it down, dampening the initial allure; however, the magic returns, when Riley leaves San Francisco.
Author Marian Palaia evokes, without overstatement, the turbulent atmosphere of the Vietnam era, the California drug culture and the AIDS epidemic in the 1970s and ‘80s. She also adeptly inserts information about Riley’s brother, Mick, throughout the narrative, so we learn what happened to him — that he dropped out of college to enlist, and he fought with the 25th Infantry in Cu Chi as a tunnel rat.
Toward the end of the book, Riley heads back home to Montana. She makes no excuse to her parents for the many wrong choices she made, recognizing a broken heart for a brother who never returned from Vietnam does not deserve to be judged. In that, we hear her begin to move on, in this wise, debut novel with a hugely satisfying ending.
May 19, 2015
On June 17, the winner of the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award will be announced. This is one of my favorite annual awards to watch, as it progresses through a phenomenally long long-list of nominated novels (142 this year) into a short-list of 10 that yields the winner. The IMPAC always provides a great reading list of novels, from which I’ve discovered brilliant authors from different countries, but it is more a personal favorite because of its premise: Nominations are made by librarians from around the world, those wonderful people who watch, know, present, recommend and curate books for the public to read. They see hundreds of books move through their lending institutions and can showcase those that may not be getting the attention they deserve.
Past International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award winners have been Man Gone Down by Michael Thomas (2009), The Twin by Gerbrand Bakker (2010) and Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann (2011) – novels I’ve read and can recommend.
One requirement: In order to be considered for the IMPAC award, the novel must have be written in English or translated into English.
The 2015 shortlist below includes several titles that have been mentioned here on TLC. You’ll also find Richard Flanagan’s popular 2014 Man Booker Prize-winner among the candidates.
Burial Rites by Hannah Kent (Australian)
Nominated by four libraries from Australia and the United States
I recommended Burial Rites to several book groups. It’s a compelling story inspired by the real life fate of Agnes Magnúsdóttir, a young woman who was the last person to be executed (publicly beheaded) in Iceland in the early nineteenth century. She was condemned for murder. Prior to the execution, she was held in protective custody by the farm family of a government official. In the story, Agnes’ presence on the farm creates strife and challenge for the parents and their daughters, who wrestle with the convict’s sympathetic humanity. Among the librarian comments: “This meticulously researched novel provides a vivid voice for Agnes and those who shared her last days. Kent uses her powerfully drawn characters and compelling narrative to bring the time and events to life.”
Horses of God by Mahi Binebine (Moroccan)
Nominated by Chicago Public Library, United States
Translated from the French
This novel appeared on TLC in a list of books by French authors that I’d culled from the 2015 IMPAC longlist. It’s one of those novels that not only tells an engaging story but leaves the reader stunned by the awareness of how poverty and the promises of Islam can together create a young suicide bomber. It’s a phenomenal novel, brief (under 200 pages) and told in spare prose. BineBine focuses on four childhood friends growing up in the impoverished shantytowns of Sidi Moumen, a suburb of Casablanca. The story has roots in fact: On May 16, 2003, fourteen suicide bombers launched a series of attacks throughout Casablanca. It was the deadliest attack in Morocco’s history. The comment from the Chicago library includes: “This novel by Moroccan author Binebine concerns young boys who become suicide bombers, and it upends much of what is often assumed about such lives.”
Someone by Alice McDermott (American)
Nominated by the Veria Central Public Library, Greece
I’m a big fan of Alice McDermott since a long time ago when I read her second novel, That Night. It’s one of my all-time favorite books. McDermott has written several more novels — I also loved Charming Billy, which won the National Book Award (1998). McDermott is an uncontested master when it comes to portraying everyday life among Irish Americans, as she does with Marie Commeford in Someone. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly and Kirkus Reviews gave starred reviews to the novel, and it’s been praised to the heights by many readers. The librarian comment includes: “A novel that shows how indefinite and ordinary but also beautiful a life can be when you have someone to share it with.”
The Narrow Road to the Deep North by Richard Flanagan (Australian)
Nominated by four Australian libraries
Flanagan’s fictional take on the WWII Japanese POW experience and the “death railways” built in Burma is rooted in his father’s connection to the historical event. The protagonist is surgeon Dorrigo Evans, who struggles to treat and save suffering POWs working with him on the railroad. He is haunted by a love affair he had with his uncle’s wife two years earlier. Rave reviews abound; however, Kirkus Reviews came after Flanagan for flowery descriptions about the love affair, saying they border on the likes of a “swoon-worthy bodice ripper.” Among the librarians’ comments: “Flanagan’s novel explores love and death, the horror of war, and the nature of heroism.”
K by Bernardo Kucinski (Brazilian)
Nominated by two libraries from Brazil
Translated from the Portugese
K will be available in the United States on July 31. It’s the story of a father searching for his daughter who “disappeared” during the military dictatorship in Brazil. Forecasts for the novel prior to its American publication aren’t out there, from my search results, but from what the nominating librarian says, K promises to be an unforgettable page-turner. It’s based on a real story from the author’s life — Kucinski’s younger sister disappeared in 1973. From the book’s publisher, Latin America Bureau: “As the author says, ‘Everything in this book is invented but almost everything happened’.” From the librarians’ comments: “…a remarkable book written in sparse language hovering between memoir and novel, a compelling tale almost impossible to put down.”
Harvest by Jim Crace (British)
Nominated by a library from Switzerland and one from the United States
I’m not a big fan of Jim Crace due to personal taste, not professional critique. There’s something about his storytelling that, as a common reader, doesn’t appeal to me. I often think I should give his work another chance because he’s frequently among award nominees and his work is highly regarded. Harvest, for example, was also nominated for the 2014 Man Booker award. The story takes place in an isolated English farming village where the stable of the manor house burns down. Fingers are pointed at newcomers to the village. Witchcraft and revenge come into thematic play. Among the librarians’ comments: “…tightly plotted; less than a week passes from the moment smoke is sighted until the book’s fateful outcome, and yet once underway, we have the sense that everything is inevitable.”
Brief Loves That Live Forever by Andreï Makine (French, Russian-born)
Nominated by Bibliothèque de la Part-Dieu, Lyon, France
I’ve made the comment here on TLC that Andreï Makine is an author whose work, given the time, I’d chain-read. After I finished his novel Music of Life, I only wanted to keep reading whatever he wrote. Brief Loves That Live Forever will be available to U.S. readers in August. The Guardian begins their review of the book with this: “Siberian-born Andreï Makine’s latest novel lives in the memory long after the last page is turned. In a series of interlocking episodes the narrator – like Makine, an orphan – guides us through the totalitarian world of Brezhnev’s Soviet Union. Makine’s prose is both spare and meditative, and leads us deep into the memories of a world that is now gone.” Among the librarian’s comments: “…sober and powerful style of history and love stories from the Soviet time to the fall of the Berlin Wall. Prose of big sensibility, quiet in suggestion.”
TransAtlantic by Colum McCann (Irish)
Nominated by six libraries from Canada, Ireland, Britain and the United States
Within this novel are the stories of Frederick Douglass on an international lecture tour in Ireland in 1845; the first nonstop transatlantic flight in 1919 by two WWI aviators headed for Ireland; and Senator George Mitchell’s 1998 peace talks in Northern Ireland. McCann weaves together the disparate stories into what many praised as a compelling narrative, much as he did with Let the Great World Spin, which won the 2011 IMPAC Award. Among the librarians’ comments: “TransAtlantic is a delight to read. Through writing that is both lyrically lush and detailed, the reader meets fascinating characters, historically grounded in the 19th and 20th centuries, who are deftly linked through their connections to Ireland and America.”
Sparta by Roxana Robinson (American)
Nominated by the San Diego Library, United States
With all the hub-bub over Phil Klay’s award-winning story collection about Iraq soldiers, Redeployment, I missed this novel about a soldier returning home from the same war after four years of duty. From the publisher’s description of Sparta: “His life becomes increasingly difficult to negotiate: he can’t imagine his future, can’t recover his past, and can’t bring himself to occupy his present. As weeks turn into months, Conrad feels himself trapped in a life that’s constrictive and incomprehensible, and he fears that his growing rage will have irreparable consequences.” Lots of praise from the media, except Kirkus Reviews described it as “well-intentioned but flawed.” The librarian’s comment: “A searing portrayal of the experience of a classics scholar and Iraq war veteran who returns home from the war to find he no longer belongs in either world.”
Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (Nigerian)
Nominated by 11 libraries from Canada, Germany, Sweden, Ireland and the United States
Winner of the 2014 National Book Critics Circle Award for Fiction, Americanah tells the story of teenagers Ifemelu and Obinze who fall in love in Nigeria when it’s under military dictatorship. Everyone is leaving, including Ifemelu to study in the United States. Obinze is unable to join her and finds his way, illegally, to London. Years later they reconnect. Kirkus Reviews wrote, “Soap-operatic in spots, but a fine adult love story with locations both exotic and familiar.” Among the librarians’ comments: “A love story, an immigration story, and a portrait of race in America. Authentic and captivating.”
April 22, 2015
These are the days that forecast and ramp up to summer blockbusters and beach reads. I don’t see a standout yet, as we had last year with All the Light We Cannot See, Anthony Doerr’s recent 2015 Pulitzer Prize winner in fiction; however, it’s early in the game.
Below are three novels and two books of non-fiction that caught my eye and interest. Maybe they’ll catch yours.
The Cost of Courage by Charles Kaiser (June)
Charles Kaiser is a former reporter for The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal. This is his third book of non-fiction and likely to be a big hit during this time of popular interest for World War II stories, both fiction and non-fiction. The Cost of Courage recounts the true story of the Boulloche family’s participation in the French resistance. According to the publisher, it is the first time the family has cooperated with an author to share their ordeal. A quick summary: Andre Boulloche, coordinating all the Resistance movements in the nine northern regions of France, was betrayed by an associate, arrested by the Gestapo and sent to (and survived) Nazi concentration camps. His sisters took over the fight of resistance until the end of the war. Publisher’s Weekly writes: “Kaiser’s use of Andre’s first-person narration can be distracting, but otherwise this is a riveting paean to unsung war heroes in occupied France.” Kirkus Reviews gives it a star and writes: “At once heroic and heartbreaking, this story leaves an indelible mark.” Kaiser’s website states: “The book is a nonfiction thriller, a love story, and a mini-history of World War II in Europe.”
The Last Four Days of Paddy Buckley by Jeremy Massey (May)
Black comedy and intrigue in this debut novel tell the story of 42-year-old Paddy Buckley who’s working for Gallagher’s, a funeral home in Dublin, Ireland. He’s involved in a hit-and-run that kills Donal Cullen, the brother of a notorious Irish mobster. From the publisher’s website: “The next morning, the Cullen family calls Gallagher’s to oversee the funeral arrangements. Paddy, to his dismay, is given the task of meeting with the grieving Vincent Cullen, Dublin’s crime boss, and Cullen’s entourage. When events go awry, Paddy is plunged into an unexpected eddy of intrigue, deceit, and treachery.” Kirkus Reviews writes: “Highly readable and entertaining, though far-fetched in key moments, the novel benefits especially from Massey’s mostly restrained, deadpan Irish sense of humor.” Massey is a third-generation undertaker who worked with his father for many years at the family firm in Dublin. The publisher describes the book as “by turns a thriller, a love story, and a black comedy of ill manners.”
Our Souls at Night by Kent Haruf (May)
Kent Haruf, widely known for his best-seller Plain Song and for setting his novels in the fictional Holt, Colorado, died this past December at the age of 71, but not before completing Our Souls at Night. It tells the story of Addie Moore and Louis Waters who discover comfort with one another in their old age. They don’t know each other very well, but Addie asks Louis to sleep with her. It’s not a sexual proposition, rather a desire to get through the night with companionship. Needless to say, the small town’s gossip mill goes into high gear. This is a short narrative – under 200 pages. Publisher’s Weekly gives it a star and describes Our Souls at Night as a “gripping and tender novel.”
The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George (June)
The Little Paris Bookshop is a German best-seller newly translated into English. According to the author’s website, it has ranked among the top 10 novels on the best-seller list of Germany’s Spiegel magazine since May 2013 and has sold more than 500,000 copies. The novel tells the story of a bookseller, Jean Perdu, who sells books from a floating barge on the Seine. From the publisher’s website: Monsieur Perdu calls himself a literary apothecary. From his floating bookstore in a barge on the Seine, he prescribes novels for the hardships of life. Using his intuitive feel for the exact book a reader needs, Perdu mends broken hearts and souls. The only person he can’t seem to heal through literature is himself; he’s still haunted by heartbreak after his great love disappeared. She left him with only a letter, which he has never opened.” Kirkus Reviews describes The Little Paris Bookshop as a charming novel.
Meanwhile There Are Letters: The Correspondence of Eudora Welty and Ross Macdonald, edited by Suzanne Marrs and Tom Nolan (June)
I love reading books that are collections of letters. The intimacy in the written voice, long lost these days with electronic mail and tweets, bring us into the interior worlds of those who are writing privately to each other. It’s like reading someone’s diary. This new collection documents a 13-year epistolary friendship between crime novelist Ross Macdonald, famous for his fictional Detective Lew Archer, and southern novelist and short story writer Eudora Welty, who won the Pulitzer Prize in Fiction for The Optimist’s Daughter. I wonder: What brought them together? And what did they find in each other that kept them writing for 13 years? Kirkus Reviews gives the book a star, writing: “An intimate, luminous portrait of a friendship.”
April 7, 2015
I discovered the French-Russian author Andreï Makine among the French novels long-listed for the 2015 Dublin IMPAC Award. His nominated/newest book is Brief Loves That Live Forever, a collection of eight stories; however, after researching Makine’s bibliography, I decided to read an earlier work, Music of a Life. The novel’s story of Alexeï Berg, a promising classical pianist in Moscow during Stalin’s Reign of Terror, became a powerful, brief seduction during an afternoon I spent on a beach in south Florida. It is told as a look-back from two decades later, when the narrator happens upon Berg playing a piano in a train station. Berg shares with him his extraordinary story.
In a mere 109 pages, Makine’s lyric writing creates an ominous atmosphere of Soviet life and an astonishing story of a lost dream and human resilience. Alexeï Berg is forced to mature and survive amid great loss of family and career, yet he carries within his soul, secretly and unexpressed, an ongoing love for music. The dramatic change in his young life happens two days before his first concert performance after he leaves the final rehearsal. On his way home, he is passed by a man — not making eye contact, not stopping — who says, “Don’t go home.” Berg enters the building across the street from the apartment where he lives with his parents and, through the windows, sees a uniformed officer inside. He flees, stealing the family car and disappears into the escalation of World War II, assuming a dead Russian soldier’s identity.
The Independent in Britain wrote of Andreï Makine: “He is not interested in money and is among the rare breed of authors who refuse to take advance payments for their books. He is writing because he believes ‘that a book, in the words of his boy narrator, can remake the world with its beauty.'”
The above quote is from an interview that references the boy narrator in Le Testament Français, Makine’s fourth novel, published in the United States as Dreams of My Russian Summers. The story, considered to be autobiographical fiction, about a boy’s teen-aged years in the 1960’s and 1970’s, also seduces with deeply felt writing that’s richly evocative of Soviet life; however, the boy’s metaphysical pondering won’t capture every reader. He spends summers with his French-born grandmother, Charlotte Lemonnier, in a town at the edge of the Siberian steppe. He escapes dreamily into her stories about Paris in the early 20th century — stories about Proust, Tsar Nicholas and Alexandra’s visit, the 1910 flood and the death of French President Félix Faure. The events are preserved in articles and memorabilia stuffed into a suitcase. The contents, elaborated on by Charlotte, sweep the boy into an imagined world he can’t shake. He experiences a kind of beauty one feels and senses with incomprehensible, overwhelming depths that cannot be communicated. “The unsayable was essential,” he tells us, and it envelopes and isolates him.
The boy narrator is for the most part nameless throughout the novel, other than a one-time mention of his nickname, Frantsuz (the Russian word for a Frenchman), and at the end of the novel, Alyosha, an affectionate diminutive of the name Alexey. The boy eventually grows up and away from Charlotte, less enchanted by her repeated stories “from an Atlantis, engulfed by time” and more interested in his adolescent yearnings for women and adventures with classmates in Moscow. The stories of Paris, however, have changed him. So, too, has Charlotte, who in her own young life left Paris to be with her mother in Russia and suffered famine, brutal winters, Stalin’s purges and the chaos of war. She has introduced into her grandson’s life the duality of the Western world in all its allure and the Soviet world of cruel injustices, scarcities and violence. His wrestling with that dual love — one for that “essential beauty” and the other for his homeland — is a profound journey of wonder, hope and the eternal connection of things past and present.
Dreams of My Russian Summers received France’s top literary prizes, the Prix Médicis and the Prix Goncourt. It was the first time this double win had ever happened, but it didn’t come easily. Makine, born, raised and educated in the Soviet Union, found his way to Paris in 1987 where he lived the tough life of an impoverished writer who couldn’t get his work published. He wrote his books in French, but French publishers couldn’t believe such elegant writing in their language could come from the pen of a Russian. Eventually, a few books were published, but it wasn’t until 1995 that Andreï Makine became recognized with his award-winning Dreams of My Russian Summers.
Both Music of a Life and Dreams of My Russian Summers are translated from the French into English by Geoffrey Strachan.
Andreï Makine told The Independent: “…you have to understand that there are 26 different tenses in French, and the French can eat, walk and make love in these different dimensions of time. Whereas in Russian we only have the basic three — past, present and future, and this changes the way that we look at life.”
March 22, 2015
Olen Steinhauer is a New York Times best-selling author of spy novels. His newest book All the Old Knives got a mention here on TLC just a few weeks ago in a list of books coming out this spring. It’s all that the forecasts promised but a page-turner of a unique kind. It doesn’t grab you from the get-go, but hang on.
It begins with agent Henry Pelham from the CIA’s Vienna bureau traveling to meet retired agent Celia Favreau. They’re meeting for dinner in California’s idyllic Carmel-by-the-Sea where Celia is now married, with two children. Henry intends to interrogate her. He believes Celia might have helped the enemy in a past incident. Complicating the situation is the fact they are former lovers.
This is a concisely told story in a compact novel you could read in an afternoon – and you just might want to do that. Steinhauer plays with our perception of the details in such a way that you may find yourself needing to revisit them if you don’t stick with the story all at once. While it starts slowly, this terrific spy novel builds with gradual tension and complexity.
At the heart of the drama is the hijacking of a Royal Jordanian airplane carrying 120 passengers and crew. It lands in Vienna with the hijackers refusing to negotiate. The crisis ends in complete disaster. Everyone on board the flight dies. Six years later, a terrorist picked up in Afghanistan claims a source inside the Vienna-based CIA helped the hijackers. Henry believes that person was likely Celia – and if not her, then she probably knew who it was. She married quickly after the disaster – within 7 months – suspiciously abandoning the agency and Henry for a man she hardly knew.
In the present time, she’s moved on, but Henry hasn’t. His continued desire for Celia influences his intent to interrogate her. Through the dinner at the elegant Carmel restaurant, she appears stoic, at times tearful, but never wavering over the decision she made to cut free from Henry and their work to have a better life. She’s disarmingly earnest, but Henry wonders if she’s still the professional manipulator he once knew.
Both, however, are trained in manipulation. Both are less than trustworthy. Those attributes affected their romance, and it affects their interaction over their gourmet meal as the chronology of the hijacking events unfold. Steinhauer exceptionally works with alternating perceptions between Celia and Henry — and also the transcript from Henry’s secret recording of their conversation. It’s smart, sophisticated, espionage storytelling with the velocity ramping into high gear in the last third of the book. There’s a shocking surprise that’s unnerving, and so well done you won’t forget it.
March 13, 2015
Four years ago, Philip Connors published a memoir called Fire Season about working as a fire lookout for the U.S. Fire Service. It was one of those books I didn’t get to, despite the way it called to me – the allure of a modern-age Thoreau in complete solitude, off the grid in a tower above the Gila Forest in New Mexico. But now, having finished Connors’ All the Wrong Places, I’m glad I didn’t read Fire Season because this new memoir is the prequel to those years of solitude. It’s about a central event that defined Connors’ life — that being his brother’s suicide when they were in their 20’s — and the troubled years that followed. All the Wrong Places likely makes his story as a fire lookout even more meaningful.
Connors describes himself and his brother Dan as oddball opposites. They lost touch and any sense of closeness after leaving Minnesota where they grew up on a pig farm — Philip on a trajectory of college and New York City journalism, Dan bypassing college and becoming a blue-collar worker for a family company in Albuquerque. Dan also became a skilled hot air balloonist. Philip broke the distance with a visit to Albuquerque to celebrate his younger brother’s engagement to the boss’s daughter. The book opens with a magical morning balloon ride over Albuquerque. Months later, the first day of his internship at the Nation magazine, Philip learns his brother shot himself to death. But before that, and after the balloon ride, Philip ignored a phone call from Dan. He said he’d call him back and then didn’t. He also didn’t call his brother after his parents told him that Dan had been left by yet another woman, the one he fell for after his fiancée broke off their engagement.
Connors is consumed not so much by why the suicide happened but that it did happen. He feels a burden of fraudulence, as if what is seen of him on the outside — a self-possessed, competent young man — hides the reality that he failed his brother. He’s driven into places where he doesn’t belong, enforcing the outsider status he believes of himself. That includes his job as an editor at the Wall Street Journal where his socialist inclinations run polar opposite to the newspaper’s editorial conservatives. He hangs posters of the anarchist Emma Goldman and consumer advocate Ralph Nader in his cubicle, and his encounters with Bob Bartley, “the most important person at the world’s most important publication” are entertaining, illustrating not only his out-of-place status but also his youthful innocence. Meanwhile, Connors lives in Brooklyn’s Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, perpetuating his unsettled sense of self as one of a handful of whites among thousands of black residents.
Connors writes with humor, irony and enticing vulnerability that draws us into his life during the six years following the tragedy, illustrating its effect on him. He achieves a superb middle ground between journalism and the intimacy of confessional expression, including when he turns to an amateur phone sex line for companionship. His insecurities, fumblings and misgivings provide levity and humanness. Then arrives Part Three of the three-part memoir, delving deeply into what happened to Dan. Connors seeks the details from police and medical examiner reports, as well as from interviews with his brother’s ex-fiancée and girlfriend. It’s equally compelling as the first two parts but with darker content. It also reveals a secret that releases Philip from his heavy burden. He comes to realize the phone calls he didn’t make, the words never said, didn’t contribute to his brother’s death. “At long last I had a way of being in the world that didn’t feel fraudulent,” he writes.
Connors visits a friend in New Mexico who holds the lookout post at Gila. She wants out and, to his surprise, recommends him for the job. It’s an unexpected gift for Connors, coming at the right time in his life, yet to others it appears irrational — leaving a prestigious journalism job to work for peanuts isolated in the wilderness. But by the time we get to the last pages, it makes perfect sense. And now, it makes perfect sense for me to read Fire Season. I’m glad I waited.
February 28, 2015
Here’s a look at some good reading opportunities on the doorstep or soon to appear in bookshops. (How quaint and nostalgic to write that.) Below you’ll find crime, family and spy stories. An unusual standout: Kazuo Ishiguro’s new novel is a delve into Saxon England, featuring a pilgrimage, other worldly creatures and a nod to King Arthur.
A Reunion of Ghosts by Judith Claire Mitchell
This novel received starred reviews from Publisher’s Weekly and Kirkus Reviews about three sisters living in the family apartment in Manhattan’s Upper West Side. They’ve inherited bad luck, passed down through generations, and to end it, they’re ending their lives together. Sounds dark? From everything I’ve read, it’s dark comedy, and quite funny. This literary narrative is their 400-page suicide note, “a mesmerizing account of their lives that stretches back decades to their great-grandfather, a brilliant scientist whose professional triumph became the sinister legacy that defines them.” (via the publisher’s website)
All the Old Knives by Olen Steinhauer
This is potentially one of those stay-up-all-night spy novels from a master writer of the genre. It’s received high advance praise from the forecasting trade journals, Kirkus Reviews and Publisher’s Weekly plus others. The plot centers on two spies (one retired) and former lovers who worked together in Vienna when a tragic airline hijacking occurred. It resulted in the deaths of all on board, including the hijackers. The two ex-lovers come together for dinner, and what really happened that time five years ago unfolds. Promises to be a suspenseful page-turner.
The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro
From the publisher’s website: “The Romans have long since departed and Britain is steadily declining into ruin. But, at least, the wars that once ravaged the country have ceased. Axl and Beatrice, a couple of elderly Britons, decide that now is the time, finally, for them to set off across this troubled land of mist and rain to find the son they have not seen for years, the son they can scarcely remember.” Some starred forecasting reviews were given for this new novel, being released this coming week, by the author of Never Let Me Go and Remains of the Day. Other worldly creatures and a hovering sense of magic abound. Publisher’s Weekly writes: The Buried Giant is a slow, patient novel, decidedly unshowy but deliberate and precise—easy to read but difficult to forget.” But reviews have been mixed. Note that Library Journal came in with a negative, saying: “…this quasifantasy falls short as the medium to deliver the author’s lofty message.” So, too, did The New York Times critic Michiko Kakutani.
A Dangerous Place by Jacqueline Winspear
Jacqueline Winspear fans can look forward to a new adventure of Maisie Dobbs who, in this 11th installment of the series, investigates the murder of Sebastian Babayoff of a Sephardic Jewish community in Gibraltar. It is 1937, the Spanish Civil War has begun. Dobbs still suffers under the weight of personal tragedies. From the author’s website: “As she follows the evidence deep into a web of geopolitical intrigue, Maisie discovers that working again after such a long hiatus tempers her feelings of despair. It is only after she has unraveled the truth about Babayoff’s murder that Maisie feels able to return to England. What she chooses to do instead will astonish readers.” Starred by the American Library Association’s Booklist that claims it’s “another winner from Winspear.”
The Animals by Christian Kiefer
Kirkus Reviews calls Kiefer a “master wordsmith” writing “dense and beautiful language,” while Publisher’s Weekly calls the prose “poetic” and the book a “compelling, thoughtful novel.” It promises to be an intriguing literary thriller about a man with a dark past who manages a sanctuary for wounded animals in a remote area of Idaho. He dates the local veterinarian and lives a quiet life until a childhood friend from that dark past shows up. Kirkus writes: “Eloquent and shattering, this novel explores, in gritty detail, how penance sometimes does not lead to redemption…”
The Children’s Crusade by Ann Packer
A large, family saga (close to 500 pages) about the Blair family during the 1950’s and ‘60s on property the father, a physician, buys just south of San Francisco. Wife Penny becomes distracted from the family and her four children in pursuit of self and art during the ‘60s feminist era. The story is told from the viewpoints of the adult children looking back to their childhood, including one who is troubled and needing money, causing the conflict. Promises to be an engrossing, “leave me alone” fictional story that’s a family portrait, character study of individuals and evocative atmosphere of mid-century America. It received a starred forecast from Kirkus Reviews and Library Journal.
February 11, 2015
I discovered Helen Macdonald’s memoir last year in British literary reviews. The praise left no doubt it would be an unusually good book to read. I also caught a Twitter post from someone who saw a friend reading the book on the London subway and remarked on its engaging power. Such a remark is common fare for Twitter, but the way this one was written told me something about this book makes it stand apart from others. I had to read it, this journey of grief taken by way of training a goshawk.
Helen Macdonald received one of those out-of-the-blue, devastating phone calls that turn the world upside down. Her father, a newspaper photographer, had died suddenly and unexpectedly. The shocking loss drove her into a ruined state, a kind of normal madness, she tells us, and to cope she bought Mabel, a goshawk, for £800 on a Scottish quayside. Mabel came home with her to Cambridge, England, where, in the surrounding fields, Macdonald trained the bird to hunt with her.
This behavior may have been grief-driven, but it was by no means irresponsible. In childhood, Macdonald became obsessed with birds of prey and devoured books on the topic. When she was 12 years old, she spent an afternoon with falconers, observing for the first time trained goshawks flying from the gloved fists of men. She worked among falconers in her adult years, taught falconry to beginners and trained hawks, but never a goshawk — a bird she describes as nervous, highly strung and psychopathic — until now.
The rigors of working with Mabel gave Macdonald purpose and a way to shut out the world. She writes openly about how the loss of her father created overwhelming feelings of insecurity, fear and panic. She worried about her sanity. The narrative result is raw emotion that grips the heart with poetic resonance. This is where Macdonald excels, writing honestly and philosophically about her inner turmoil at the same time she writes arrestingly about the wild outdoors. Her storytelling sings in language and thought.
Many scenes involve Macdonald running after flight-bound Mabel to keep up, crouching in bushes and collaborating with Mabel’s kills by flushing rabbits and pheasants. She learns Mabel’s moods and monitors her weight, stuffs the freezer with dead animals to feed Mabel and walks public areas with her on the gloved fist. She plays catch with Mabel inside the house with a paper ball. Here and there, tucked into the story, we read about the history of falconry, its terminology, challenges and failures. They are intriguing historical glimpses of this once aristocratic sport.
T. H. White, who wrote his own memoir about training a goshawk, is a strong presence throughout the narrative. Macdonald rebukes him for the horrible ways he abused his hawk, and yet she compassionately connects with him for the rite of passage that engaged him. White believed if he could conquer the goshawk, then he could conquer his tortured soul. Like Macdonald, he wanted to escape into the wild. The way Macdonald captures his life — with a kind of passion that’s haunted and fascinated — adds more reason to love this book. T. H. White is best known for writing The Once and Future King.
It’s been months since her father’s death when Macdonald speaks at his memorial service. Time in H Is for Hawk passes without much reference to dates, but we know Macdonald has isolated herself with Mabel for a long while. Being among the gathered people, she experiences a turning point, recognizing the gift of togetherness and support from friends and family. She seeks medical help for her depression and then spends Christmas with her mother and friends in Maine. She learns, gratefully, that one can live a life that includes both loved ones and Mabel’s wild world, something T. H. White struggled to achieve.
H Is for Hawk is indeed the stuff of engaging power. It won Britain’s 2014 Costa Book of the Year and Samuel Johnson Prize for Non-Fiction, two highly prestigious awards. It will be available for purchase in the United States beginning of March 2015.
January 28, 2015
Nominees for the 2015 Edgar® Awards were announced last week. These awards honor the best in mystery fiction, non-fiction and television. Sponsored by the Mystery Writers of America, they are widely acknowledged to be the most prestigious in the mystery genre.
The full list of nominees can be found on TheEdgars.com in a handful of categories that includes Best Novel, Best First Novel by an American Author, Best Paperback Original, Best Fact Crime and more. If you’re a Mary Higgins Clark fan, you might want to take a look at the nominees for The Simon & Schuster Mary Higgins Clark Award. Of note is that Invisible City by Julia Dahl is nominated for both the Higgins award and Best First Novel by an American Author. Marilyn Stasio, Crime columnist for The New York Times Sunday Book Review, describes it as “a harrowing tale.”
Even though novels are raised up to “award nominee,” this doesn’t guarantee a five-star reading experience. As I always say, one person’s great read is another’s epic bore. Kirkus Reviews went negative on World of Trouble by Ben H. Winters, nominated for an Edgar Best Paperback Original, saying, “This final installment in Winters’ trilogy (Countdown City, 2013, etc.) is the weakest, marked by a falling off of both the writing and the story that made the first entry worthwhile. ”
I’ve selected one novel from each of three Edgar categories, based on indications of a page-turning thriller (Best Paperback Original, The Day She Died), smart plot complexity (Best Novel, Saints of the Shadow Bible) and a unique perspective (Best First Novel by an American Author, The Life We Bury). Below you’ll find brief descriptions of these three.
The Day She Died by Catriona McPherson
A young woman gets romantically involved with a man whose wife killed herself. But not everything she learns about his family adds up. This mystery received mixed reviews, but the positives are raves. Kirkus Reviews describes it as “a creepy psychological thriller that will leave you breathless.” Library Journal gives its verdict as: “Keep the lights on and batten down the hatches, for McPherson’s psychologically terrifying stand-alone demands to be read all night. … Scottish author McPherson has written a top-notch tale of modern gothic suspense that is sure to please Charlotte Brontë and Daphne du Maurier fans.” Whoa. Count me in.
Saints of the Shadow Bible by Ian Rankin
I’ve not read Ian Rankin, and it’s time I did, although I’m jumping in with #19 in his Inspector Rebus series here. Hopefully, I’ll not lose any of the thrill, being a latecomer — Rebus is coming out of retirement. He’s been demoted from Detective Inspector to Detective Sargent. A case from long ago that involved his team is being questioned and re-opened. Publisher’s Weekly loved this book, saying: “The immense and intricate canvas includes dozens of characters, plots within plots, and multiple themes, from Scottish independence to the insidiousness of corruption, public and private. Too much may be going on at times for some readers, but distinctive characters (including Edinburgh itself) make the book memorable.” Paperback will be available end of this month.
The Life We Bury by Allen Eskens
Suspense Magazine listed this mystery among its Best of 2014 books. The publisher, Seventh Street Books, writes: “A young man, caught in the dark maze of circumstances surrounding a crime that occurred thirty years ago, must confront several ugly truths as well as direct threats to his own life.” That young man is Joe Talbert, a junior at the University of Minnesota, who receives a class assignment to write a biography of someone who has lived an interesting life. His subject is Carl Iverson, a Vietnam veteran dying of cancer in a nursing home, who has been medically paroled after spending thirty years in prison for murder. The combination of old connecting with young in storytelling calls to me, as well as the promise of a good mystery. Kirkus Reviews writes, “Eskens’ debut is a solid and thoughtful tale of a young man used to taking on burdens beyond his years—none more dangerous than championing a bitter old man convicted of a horrific crime.”
The Edgar Award winners will be announced April 29.
January 13, 2015
Two 2014-published books, which I didn’t get to read until now, are those below. It happens almost every year, this kind of desire in January to read one or two books from the previous year before I head further into the new books of the new year, because I know I won’t get to them in maybe, well, forever. These two novels are gripping in ways unique to each: Euphoria for its love story and exotic setting of New Guinea in between the World Wars; and the Young Adult novel We Were Liars for the unknown of what happened one summer night.
Euphoria tips its hat to anthropologists Margaret Mead, Gregory Bateson and Reo Fortune during their brief time together in 1933 on the Sepik River in New Guinea, as noted by Lily King in her Acknowledgments. Their true story inspired her to write this fictional story that draws from their lives but does not reflect them. King writes, “I have borrowed from the lives and experiences of these three people, but have told a different story.” And what a great story it is — beautifully written with soulful needs, desires and hopes palpably rendered in the characters, as well as a fascinating window into anthropological study of native cultures (those, too, fictional in Euphoria).
Here’s a plot summary.
Famous American anthropologist Nell Stone and her Australian husband Fen unexpectedly run into English anthropologist Andrew Bankson at a Christmas Eve party in the Village of Angoram, New Guinea. The Stones, on their way to Victoria to study the Aborigines, are fleeing a discouraging and frightening time with the bloodthirsty Mumbanyo tribe. Desperately lonely and isolated, Bankson urges them to stay and find a new tribe on the Sepik River where he’s studying the Kionas. He succeeds, and as the three work together in the upcoming weeks, Bankson falls in love with Nell.
Her passionate work behavior and the off-hand way she carries herself, a person of the mind and not of her own well-being, comes across as endearing. Nell squints to see, having lost her glasses, and Bankson gives her spectacles that once belonged to his deceased brother. Nell is brilliant and driven and yet vulnerable — she’s feverish and limping in the beginning. Bankson yearns to take care of her, while Nell’s husband Fen pushes her to get going. He’s constantly fierce with her, jealous of her success, having published a popular book in the United States. Nell recovers her strength and flourishes with the new native tribe on the Sepik River, while Fen neglects their research. The relationship among the three, their work and the surprising conclusion tell a memorable story.
E. Lockhart’s Young Adult novel (ages 12 and up) is told from the viewpoint of teen-aged Cadence Sinclair Eastman. She describes summers spent on Beechwood, a private island off the coast of Massachusetts owned by her Sinclair family. Lockhart provides a map of the island and the locations of the clan’s four houses and staff buildings, as well as a family tree. (I referred to them often.) The Sinclairs are self-interested, stoic, moneyed Democrats. They are athletic and beautiful. Cadence tells us, “We are Sinclairs. No one is needy. No one is wrong.” The patriarch Grandad and his three divorced daughters show forth with perfect appearances of control, privilege and power, yet below that perfection rumbles the reality of greed, insecurity and false love. We Were Liars makes use of the story of King Lear with narrative interludes about a king who had three beautiful daughters and who “as he grew older…began to wonder which should inherit the kingdom.”
An accident happens to Cadence on the island during the summer she is 15 years old. It causes her unbearable migraines and memory loss. Whatever happened also diminishes her closeness to her cousins and fellow liars, Johnny and Mirren, as well as to the non-Sinclair liar Gat Patel, who is the nephew of her Aunt Carrie’s boyfriend and the boy Cadence falls madly in love with. Summer 16, Cadence is taken to Europe. Summer 17, her first return to the island after the accident, she tries to find out what happened summer 15, but everyone is close-lipped.
Much of the story’s allure is the Sinclair’s East Coast, old money mystique and stiff-upper-lip attitude. The story’s power, however, is the uncertainty Lockhart maintains until the mystery is solved. It took me completely by surprise. The ending is horrific in one sense although, being written for young adults, tempered so as to be GP rated. Cadence leaves one to wonder why she did what she did, and how she’ll ever go forward into her life. That, too, makes for powerful reading, which even adults will find intriguing.
January 4, 2015
I always keep an eye on old books — or perhaps I should describe them as “books published not so recently” — and squeeze them in between reading the onslaught of new books grabbing my attention. Perhaps there’s a metaphor for life in this, a reminder not to overlook the old and used that just might offer a great treasure or teach something new.
And so, here are three fictional stories from 1993, 2009 and 1930 to start a new year. In each of them, I found myself involved and entertained.
The Man Who Was Late by Louis Begley
I discovered Louis Begley’s alluring second novel The Man Who Was Late in a rare and used bookshop. It’s what you would call a “mannered” novel in that the rhythm and tone of the prose carry a hint of formality, as the narrator Jack reflects on the life of his Harvard classmate, Ben. They are the closest of friends, with disparate backgrounds: Jack is East Coast upper class and Ben the Jersey son of Jewish refugees. The language creates what’s compelling about the story, a bit of remove that reflects Ben’s reserved character. He is a charming, high-profile international investment banker and lover of many women. But he holds the world at bay to protect his loneliness. Ben’s affair with Jack’s cousin Véronique in Paris forces him to confront painful realities about who he is and what he’s done with his life, burdened by believing he missed the proverbial boat in securing a place in the good life. The Man Who Was Late, published in 1993, ultimately is a love story, but you come away holding in afterthoughts a moving, unforgettable character portrait. Of note: Louis Begley won high praise for his first novel Wartime Lies. It was listed among the best books of 1991 and nominated for the National Book Award that year.
Bad Things Happen by Harry Dolan
The Wall Street Journal listed Harry Dolan’s The Last Dead Girl as one of 2014’s best mysteries, but when the book came out earlier in the year, I found more enthusiastic reviews for his 2009 mystery Bad Things Happen. It’s Dolan’s first novel, and it introduces his character David Loogan in his David Loogan Series. The Last Dead Girl is #3 and the prequel to Bad Things Happen. The final clincher for me to read the old rather than the new Dolan book was its “you won’t figure it out” description of twists and turns. That is indeed true, making Bad Things Happen intriguing high-entertainment. The easy-going, suspicious, criminally inclined Loogan is hired as an editor of mystery magazine Gray Streets in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Gray Streets publisher Tom Kristoll lures him into hiding the body of a dead man (no questions asked) and then ends up dead himself. Two more murders follow, and the detective on the case is torn between thinking Loogan is a suspect versus an ally in finding the truth. The story is all-at-once suspenseful, fast-paced and written with a light touch of humor. Very fun to read.
Pietr the Latvian by Georges Simenon
For many readers, this may be a so-what recommendation. Georges Simenon’s prolific outpouring of Inspector Maigret crime novels during the mid-20th century is legendary. Also, many likely are familiar with the Inspector Maigret PBS television series starring Michael Gambon. But the full monty of Maigret novels has been unavailable for some time, and hard to access. A few years ago, I wrote here on TLC about my unsuccessful attempt to get my hands on the first Maigret novel. Now it’s here, thanks to Penguin Books that’s publishing new English versions of all Simenon’s Maigret books, 75 in total. The first, Pietr the Latvian (newly translated by David Bellos), was originally published in serial format in 1930. It features the 45-year-old Inspector Maigret hunting a notorious international swindler. The narrative style is far from great prose, but that’s not what I’m looking for when I turn to Simenon. I want a reading snack, and he always delivers: suspenseful, plot-driven, quick-to-read (usually south of 200 pages) and very satisfying crime stories. I speed right over such laughable writing as:
“It could’ve sounded merely grotesque. But it did not! It was fearsome! Tragic! Terrifying!”
From The New York Times: “Penguin said it was working with the Brazilian company Companhia das Letras and the Belgian photographer Harry Gruyaert ‘to develop haunting, evocative covers that will offer a window to Maigret’s dangerous world and allow readers new and old to identify the series.'”
December 24, 2014
If you casually flip through Richard McGuire’s new graphic novel, it won’t take long to realize the same view of one corner of a living room is the story. It’s about the events that take place in that space over thousands of years.
Each two-page spread depicts the corner, with a window on the left and a fireplace on the right, at different moments throughout time. The room’s decorations change according to the trends of decades, as do the hairstyles and clothing of the people. Some of these people reappear throughout the book, their emotions and moments captured and sometimes played out in mini stories.
The upper corner of the left page states the year of the living room. Windowed time capsules layered over the main illustration reflect past and future events that have and will occur in and around that very corner of space. Sometimes the living room isn’t even present, illustrating time before the house existed, such as in prehistoric and colonial times, as well as after the house disappears in the future, when rising waters of climate change roll in, or after the earth is destroyed and a new one begins. This is not as much a book to read as it is to experience, turning the pages and pouring over the history of one space throughout time.
Richard McGuire began this project 25 years ago when his first iteration of the concept appeared in the comics journal Raw, co-edited at the time by Art Spiegelman, who is best known for his Pulitzer Prize-winning graphic novel Maus.
According to an article in The New York Times, the concept moved toward development into a book, but Mr. McGuire couldn’t make it work and put away the project. And then, the death of his parents and an older sister “brought him back to the project with renewed energy and a mountain of source material.” The living room is from his childhood home.
In some illustrations, reactions or occurrences in one year reflect an event in the past, such as in this one below, where a woman in 1992 is reading on the sofa by the living room window, surrounded by a forest that populated the space in 1609. In the forest, a woman says, “Tell me a story,” to her companion.
In 1763, we see a man chopping down a tree in the forest, which eventually will be replaced with houses. In 1989, a family member is telling a joke that in an abstract way relates to the loss of the trees.
During colonial times, a brick house existed on land across the street from Mr. McGuire’s 20th century suburban house. Ben Franklin makes an appearance at the colonial residence in one of the mini stories. In 1783, the house burns down. In the overlay of time in the living room, 1989, a man has a coughing fit, as if reacting to the smoke.
The illustrations span a time range of 3,000,500,000 BCE to 22,175. In between, emotions of sorrow, joy, confusion and happiness play out, as well as experiences of birth, accident and death. Below, in 2005, a family member is losing his hearing while in 1964, a group plays a game of charades (“Sounds like,” the man says); in 2111, ocean waters swirl where once the house stood; and in 2006, a phone rings that nobody answers.
The Morgan Library & Museum exhibited Richard McGuire’s work this past fall. “Sharing a Sofa with Dinosaurs,” an article in The New York Times, provides a slide show from the exhibit that gives an idea of how Mr. McGuire put the book together. He’s done it with such a seductive draw that it’s hard to stop turning the pages, creating a need to keep observing the fascinating life details as they unfold. You’ll come away thinking differently about a room you live in, specifically what happened in its space years before you ever existed — and what will happen years in the future, after you’re gone.