Bibliophile. Reading mysteries, with a bit of UF, Science and History to keep things interesting.
A Table Near the BandI grabbed this book as a counter-balance to Einstein’s War, and while I’m only 30 pages and 2 stories in, it’s charming so far! A.A. Milne has given me a wry and humorous story and a sweet one that manages to be sweet without being saccharine or overly sentimental. If the rest of the stories are this good this collection will be a treasure.
The Enchanted AprilMrs Wilkins and Mrs Arbuthnot, cowed and neglected by their husbands, make a daring plan: they will have a holiday. Leaving a drab and rainy London one April and arriving on the shores of the Mediterranean, they discover a flower-filled paradise of beauty, warmth and leisure. Joined by the beautiful Lady Caroline and domineering Mrs Fisher, also in flight from the burdens of their daily lives, the four women proceed to transform themselves and their prospects.
I liked this book way more than I should have. Arnim’s ability to write a single moment right into the ground is admirable in a contrary sort of way – I mean, entire pages dedicated to describing one brief span of time, and it’s very stream-of-consciousness at times as well. And Lotty, who starts off realistic if a bit pathetic, opens her eyes her first morning in Italy and turns into a character Disney himself would envy. The only thing missing was somebody singing Zip-a-dee-doo-dah. And the ending is the shallowest, basest, most unrealistic Happily Ever After I’ve ever read. How is Frederick going to explain that unopened letter when he and Rose go home?
But in spite of all of this, the book was as enchanting as its title. Were I but rich and idle, instead of just temporarily idle, I’d have jumped a plane for Italy before I got so much as 100 pages in. Arnim wrote such a backdrop for these women that it was hard not to smell the wisteria as it dropped its accumulated rain drops on your head. Even the castle, which Arnim spent little time describing overall, felt lived in. And in spite of all the faffing stream-of-consciousness and Lotty’s Disney-esque departure from reality-land, I found myself liking, or at least sympathising with, all four women. The men … not so much. Even though they were supposed to have been ‘saved by love’ (ugh!), I still found Wilkins a condescending, pompous ass, Frederick pathetic, and Briggs a massive disappointment. Somebody should have slapped that boy upside his head.
Arnim was a gifted writer, creating characters with a lot of character, so to speak, but she really shines – is absolutely brilliant – when it comes to writing about gardens, so I suspect that when I remember The Enchanted April it will be the gardens of San Salvatore that come through best and most vividly.
NB: I read the Folio Society Edition from 2002, and it included the most charming colour illustrations; they perfectly complemented the text.
The Last Bookshop in LondonInspired by the true World War II history of the few bookshops to survive the Blitz, The Last Bookshop in London is a timeless story of wartime loss, love and the enduring power of literature.
August 1939: London is dismal under the weight of impending war with Germany as Hitler’s forces continue to sweep across Europe. Into this uncertain maelstrom steps Grace Bennett, young and ready for a fresh start in the bustling city streets she’s always dreamed of — and miles away from her troubled past in the countryside.
With aspirations of working at a department store, Grace never imagined she’d wind up employed at Primrose Hill, an offbeat bookshop nestled in the heart of the city — after all, she’s never been much of a reader. Overwhelmed with organizing the cluttered store, she doesn’t have time to read the books she sells. But when one is gifted to her, what starts as an obligation becomes a passion that draws her into the incredible world of literature.
As the Blitz rains down bombs on the city night after night, a devastating attack leaves the libraries and shops of London’s literary center in ruins. Miraculously, Grace’s bookshop survives the firestorm. Through blackouts and air raids, Grace continues running the shop, discovering a newfound comfort in the power of words and storytelling that unites her community in ways she never imagined — a force that triumphs over even the darkest nights of war-torn London.
(I read this last year, but somehow missed copying over the review to my blog.)
This is what my brain looks like on sleeping meds, and why it’s never a good idea to book shop under the influence.
To be fair, this looked like it should have been a good book for me. It’s about a bookshop, it’s an historical WWII setting, and it’s not a romance, though I did pause when I saw that it’s published by Harlequin. And the story does have its compelling moments; enough of them that I didn’t DNF it.
Unfortunately, the writing is not sophisticated and the whole tone of the book could best be summed up as the print version of a Hallmark Movie. That’s not me dissing Hallmark Movies – they’re just not my personal jam. Too emotional, too sweet, too earnest, too …too for my overly analytical preferences.
Full credit, however, for the vivid descriptions of the bombing raids on London. They were almost, though not quite, visceral. And I throughly enjoyed most of the bookshop scenes as Grace rehabbed a stuffy, dusty bookshop into a social hub for the neighborhood.
Sunrise by the SeaWhen she is given the opportunity to move to a remote tidal island off the Cornish Coast, Marisa Rossi decides some peace and quiet might be just what she needs.
Since the death of her beloved grandfather back in Italy, she's been struggling to find a way out of her grief. Perhaps this will be the perfect place for her to recuperate.
But Mount Polbearne is a far cry from the sleepy little place she was imagining. Between her noisy piano-teaching Russian neighbour and the hustle and bustle of a busy community, Marisa finds solitude is not so easy to come by. Especially when she finds herself somehow involved with a tiny local bakery desperately in need of some new zest to save it . . .
Not at all the book I was expecting, but an interesting one. There’s an “outro” at the end of the book by the author, explaining how it wasn’t quite the book she expected it to be either, and explains why.
Without spoiling the author’s attempt to avoid spoilers, I’ll just say this is a book about long-term grief and how it can turn into something altogether different and how Marisa finds her way out of it with the help of a small Cornish island. Colgan addresses agoraphobia and how it tears Marisa away from her family and friends as she becomes ever increasingly isolated. How her roommate kicks her out for being such a drag and she finds a home on a tidal island off the Cornish Coast that’s a perfect hideaway for Marisa, except for the Russian piano instructor living next door who teaches and practices all hours of the day and night. Between the Russian, her therapist and her Nonna back in italy (the latter two converse with her via Skype/Zoom), she slowly finds ways to break the cycle of isolation and reconnect with people.
This is a book that manages to be neither perky nor heavy; respect is given to Marisa’s struggles without drowning the reader in it. It’s light without being fluffy. There’s obviously a back story with the secondary characters; I’m assuming this is part of a series that takes place on this island, but it never interfered, or left me feeling as though I missed something. I’m guessing Sunrise by the Sea is marketed as a romance, but I’d argue against it. There’s a romantic connection at then end but the rest of the book is about Marisa’s recovery with occasional side-forays into the financial struggles of Polly and Huckle (whom I’m assuming starred in a previous book).
An enjoyable read – not quite what I was looking for, but it held my attention nonetheless.
The SentenceLouise Erdrich's latest novel, The Sentence, asks what we owe to the living, the dead, to the reader and to the book. A small independent bookstore in Minneapolis is haunted from November 2019 to November 2020 by the store's most annoying customer. Flora dies on All Souls' Day, but she simply won't leave the store. Tookie, who has landed a job selling books after years of incarceration that she survived by reading 'with murderous attention,' must solve the mystery of this haunting while at the same time trying to understand all that occurs in Minneapolis during a year of grief, astonishment, isolation and furious reckoning.
The Sentence begins on All Souls' Day 2019 and ends on All Souls' Day 2020. Its mystery and proliferating ghost stories during this one year propel a narrative as rich, emotional and profound as anything Louise Erdrich has written.
What an extraordinary read. From first page to last I was awed and riveted. There was a lot of pain in this book, but Erdrich never overwhelmed the story or the reader with it; there was humor subtly woven through the words like sweetgrass, but it never took over. The angst – something I’m not normally keen to read about – was authentic, and both was and wasn’t a focus of the story.
It seems that I can only be swayed to read literary fiction when there’s a ghost involved. First Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders, and now The Sentence. Neither has let me down or made me regret my choice, but I think I might like The Sentence more, even though I rated it half a star lower. Lincoln in the Bardo was often difficult to read as the human condition was a little too magnified, human and on display to really enjoy it. But the structure just blew me away. The Sentence has a traditional narrative structure, and I became invested in the characters’ lives and cared what happened to them, although Tookie’s journey to prison is, while shortly told, both painful and painfully funny.
There are really two, maybe three, stories in this book. The Sentence begins with the aftermath of Flora’s death and her initial haunting of the bookshop, all of which happens in November 2019. As the season and the months progress so, too, does Flora’s haunting, seeming to focus on Tookie more than anyone else, and escalating in alarming ways.
Then as 2020 progresses into that fateful March, another story takes over – the story of the pandemic; how it crept up on people and suddenly exploded on the scene in a flurry of hand-washing, sanitisers, and food hoarding. Stay-at-home orders. Keeping the bookstore, Birchbark books open. At this point, I think, this story becomes more fictography, and Flora’s ghost fades to almost nothingness as the narrative is about surviving, staying open, staying safe.
And then George Floyd is murdered by a policeman in broad daylight. Now the story becomes a fictitious memoir, but only in the sense that the names have changed. This is the Native American perspective of the riots and it’s about as an effective narrative of the pain, anguish, anger, frustration, bitterness, hope, and need to heal as any I’ve read. It is the hardest part of the book to read.
As Minneapolis puts things back together, Flora comes back to the forefront of the plot again. These last few chapters were still beautifully written but it’s this part of the story that kept me from going to the full 5 stars. The ‘solution’ to Flora’s haunting seems suddenly abrupt; their idea for her release seems to come out of nowhere, although it’s totally in keeping with the theme of the book. The characters don’t know there’s a theme, so how did they suddenly get from what are were going to do? to wait! I know what she wants! ? There’s no progression here, so it feels bolt-of-lightning-from-the-blue-ish. And then the revelation Tookie has that does banish Flora. I know exactly what Erdrich was trying to do, and I know exactly to what earlier part of the story she was trying to tie it to, but it was clumsily done. I was left floundering for several paragraphs, and even when the ‘denouement’ came, it failed to have the emotional impact it should have had – I feel Erdrich missed a step that kept the reader from feeling the full power of the gut punch we’re meant to feel.
It doesn’t really matter though – this is a read that will remain with me, and one I want to talk about with everybody I come into contact with. A damn good story.
The Christmas BookshopCarmen has always worked in her local department store. So, when the gorgeous old building closes its doors for good, she is more than a little lost.
When her sister, Sofia, mentions an opportunity in Edinburgh - a cute little bookshop, the spare room in her house - Carmen is reluctant, she was never very good at accepting help. But, short on options, she soon finds herself pulling into the snowy city just a month before Christmas.
What Sofia didn't say is that the shop is on its last legs and that if Carmen can't help turn things around before Christmas, the owner will be forced to sell. Privately, Sofia is sure it will take more than a miracle to save the store, but maybe this Christmas, Carmen might surprise them all...
I know – I’m a little over a month late to be reading this book, but I’ve found myself in dire need of comfort reads. We’re in the middle of a very unusual, almost 10 day long, heatwave that’s making my smashed leg and foot swell up worse than is to be expected. I’m living on ice packs and in a state of constant … not pain, but discomfort. So I need to be entertained by something well-written enough to hold my attention while I constantly shift about in search of a new comfortable-for-five-minutes position.
This fit the bill very well – almost too well, as I saw midnight last night for the first time in months, engrossed in the story. I’ve read two other Colgan books before, The Bookshop on the Corner, and The Bookshop on the Shore, and, story for story, I think I might have enjoyed them a little bit more, but that could just be the leg talking. Edinburgh at Christmas sounds lovely, enchanting, chaotic, and with all the steps, my current nerve-exploding nightmare. I’d have liked more page time devoted to the bookshop and it’s rebirth, rather than sister angst, or the silliness with the man-child author. But I did appreciate that the sister angst had a solution that didn’t involve perfect-Sophia being anything less than perfect; I like that they both got to be happy being themselves with each other, without involving earth shattering life changes for either of them. I enjoyed seeing Mr. McCredie come out of his shell, though I’d have loved to spend more time in that attic of his.
There’s a tiny hint of magical realism that’s too small to matter, but could have been explored a bit more. The genre is listed as ‘romance’, and while, yes, there is a romance, it’s very, very light. The focus is on the shop, and the sisters’ relationship, and the kids, and the MC’s pulling on her big girl knickers and growing up. The development of the romance is saved for the very end, where it’s all massive epiphanies and mad dashes in snow storms, but that bit is over as quickly as it starts (the story part, not the romance part) and we end with everybody’s HEA.
All in all, a book that served its purpose. So well, in fact, that I’m off explore her backlist a bit more in depth, to see if further relief can be found between the pages of her books.
The WeekendersSome people stay all summer long on the idyllic island of Belle Isle, North Carolina. Some people come only for the weekends-and it's something they look forward to all week long. When Riley Griggs is waiting for her husband to arrive at the ferry one Friday afternoon, she is instead served with papers informing her that her island home is being foreclosed. To make matters worse, her husband is nowhere to be found.
She turns to her island friends for help and support, but each of them has their own secrets and the clock is ticking as the mystery deepens. Cocktail parties and crab boil aside, Riley must find a way to investigate the secrets of Belle Island, the husband she might not really know, and the summer that could change everything.
As I’ve said elsewhere recently, I’ve found Mary Kay Andrews’ last few years of output to be hit or miss, with more closer to ‘miss’ than ‘hit’, but she’s been setting her stories in Florida, and the type of stories she writes is a known quantity and, well, hope springs eternal.
So you can imagine how pleasantly surprised I was to see that The Weekenders was much closer to hit than her recent average. In might be in part because this story revolves around a mystery (Andrews used to write murder mysteries under the name Kathy Trojek, if I remember correctly), but even without the mystery co-plot, it’s a much more solid story than quite a few in her list. There’s decent character development of both the MC and the side characters, including her spoiled brat of a daughter.
I was tickled when the ‘grand reveal’ of the murderer was done; not only did I not see it coming, but the way Andrews did it was a little bit inspired.
The romance was … choppy. I liked the romantic interest well enough, though he wasn’t memorable, but the MC’s flaws (or the flaws in the writing of the MC) shined in the romantic co-plot. She was too hot-and-cold without sufficient (for me) justification to make me believe or support it.
The book was still a pretty uneven effort for Andrews, even if it was vastly more enjoyable than others; while the main POV is the MCs, we do occasionally get POVs from other characters; some of them made complete sense, but some of them did not. A few times we get her BFF’s POV and it made me think there was a story there but it just sort of never happened. Those POV sections could have been omitted entirely and absolutely nothing would have been lost.
Overall, I was looking for a post-op distraction that didn’t require too much thinking through the haze of pain-killers, and I got that, plus a story that kept me reading because I wanted to, not just because it was what was in front of me.
Hello, SummerConley Hawkins left her family’s small town newspaper, The Silver Bay Beacon, in the rearview mirror years ago. Now a star reporter for a big-city paper, Conley is exactly where she wants to be and is about to take a fancy new position in Washington, D.C. Or so she thinks.
When the new job goes up in smoke, Conley finds herself right back where she started, working for her sister, who is trying to keep The Silver Bay Beacon afloat—and she doesn’t exactly have warm feelings for Conley. Soon she is given the unenviable task of overseeing the local gossip column, “Hello, Summer.”
Then Conley witnesses an accident that ends in the death of a local congressman—a beloved war hero with a shady past. The more she digs into the story, the more dangerous it gets. As an old heartbreaker causes trouble and a new flame ignites, it soon looks like their sleepy beach town is the most scandalous hotspot of the summer.
Mary Kay Andrews has been really hit or miss for me the last few years, with a couple of very average efforts, and one downright bomb coming across my shelves, but Hissy Fit is one of my favourite reads, so I keep coming back for more.
I found Hello Summer at the library and I expected another meh read, but I find myself in the mood for the quirky characters and the Southern setting she writes in, so I sat down with it thinking I’d set the appropriate expectations.
And found myself a little bit surprised. It’s chock full of the quirky characters, and the North Florida setting is par for the course; it’s definitely not up to Hissy Fit standards, but it’s also a lot better than her other recent efforts I’ve read. There’s a bit of mystery here, a very solid plot, and although the book is labeled “romance”, I think romance readers would be disappointed. There is a romance, but it’s really back-burner stuff – the congressman’s death is always front-and-center.
The story starts slow, and much like her most recent release, The Santa Suit, the character does not come across sympathetically. Fortunately for Hello Summer, it had about 350 pages more to make Conley (the MC) relatable. I was feeling ambivalent about her and the book until the car wreck/death occurred, but from there the story hooked me.
Still, this was not a great book. It might have been a great book, had the characters been better developed, something that might have been possible had there been fewer of them, and better editing overall. I found at least half a dozen inconsistencies spread out in the story that jarred me out of scenes, and what little romance there was felt lukewarm at best.
I went 3.5 stars because the plot was really good. Had this been a first book, I’d even be a little gushy about it. But it’s not even a 10th book and I know Andrews is capable of much better writing; she’s certainly had enough practice.
I have another couple of her recent titles, and this one was good enough that I’ll keep on reading and hoping.
The Santa SuitWhen newly-divorced Ivy Perkins buys an old farmhouse sight unseen, she is definitely looking for a change in her life. The Four Roses, as the farmhouse is called, is a labor of love—but Ivy didn't bargain on just how much labor. The previous family left so much furniture and so much junk, that it's a full-time job sorting through all of it.
At the top of a closet, Ivy finds an old Santa suit—beautifully made and decades old. In the pocket of a suit she finds a note written in a childish hand: it's from a little girl who has one Christmas wish, and that is for her father to return home from the war. This discovery sets Ivy off on a mission. Who wrote the note? Did the man ever come home? What mysteries did the Rose family hold?
Ivy's quest brings her into the community, at a time when all she wanted to do was be left alone and nurse her wounds. But the magic of Christmas makes miracles happen, and Ivy just might find more than she ever thought possible: a welcoming town, a family reunited, a mystery solved, and a second chance at love.
This book had a dubious beginning with a main character that was flat and wooden, a romantic interest that was a little bit too forward at the start, and a charming house, dog, fabulous Christmas decorations, and lovely small-town friendliness holding it together.
At just over 50%, Ivy finally started acting like a human being. I kept expecting some big reveal about her childhood that would explain her complete lack of emotion about anything and everything, but it never happened. This is one of those rare times when a little introspection on the part of the MC might have helped the reader develop some empathy and understanding, but without it, I just really didn’t connect with Ivy, with one exception: her scenes with Lawrence felt sincere and were the only times when it seemed Ivy came alive to any degree.
Phoebe’s side story with Cody worked out pretty much exactly the way I thought it would, although their meet-cute was a nice touch.
I’d have liked to have a seen a little more resolution concerning her relationship with the woman who owned the candy company – that felt unfinished to me.
The romantic ending of the story felt pretty rushed and awfully optimistic, (this coming from someone who’s relationship could be accused of being rushed and optimistic) but it’s a Christmas novella, so I guess I’m meant to just go with it.
But most of all, and the reason I ended up giving this story 3.5 stars instead of 3, I loved the back story about Bob and Betty Rae. I love how they never lost their joy around the holidays, how they made such a quiet impact on the town during their lifetimes, and above all, I loved that they were Jewish. NOT because of any religious nonsense, but because they were able to be the bright spark of the Christmas season for this small town without compromising their own faith. I like reading stories about people coming together in the middle, rather than having to be one way or the other, and about being able to celebrate lots of different traditions without the stigma of turning your back on your own. It was an unexpected twist I enjoyed, and let’s face it, I totally fell for all the talk about vintage ornaments and bubble lights.
For a story that started off with so little potential, it ended up being a sweet and somewhat charming holiday tale.
The Good Luck Girls Of Shipwreck LaneThe HomeSweetHome Network has just announced this year's lucky winner of a brand-new, fully loaded dream home: Janine Brown of Cedar Falls, Iowa.
For Janine "Janey" Brown, hearing her name called on the TV has the hallmarks of one of her aunt Midge's harebrained plans designed to bring Janey into a world outside the one she once shared with her fiance. Janey, however, is reluctant to give up the safety and sanctity she finds in her tiny kitchen, submerging her anxiety and grief in the pursuit of the perfect pot-au-feu.
Meanwhile, across town, Janine "Nean" Brown just knows that this house is her destiny. Good fortune took its sweet time showing up in her life, but better late than never. And now that it's here, the house promises an escape from the latest in her revolving door of crappy jobs and drunk boyfriends. This house will turn her into someone the world sees, instead of the bedraggled girl who others look past without a thought.
Both Janine Browns head for Christmas Cove, Maine, to claim the prize they both rightfully think is theirs. When their lives and personalities intersect, however, they discover that more than just a million-dollar dream home awaits them at the water's edge. These three women (oh yes, Aunt Midge comes along for the ride ) arrive at their newfound mansion only to uncover what exactly it means to truly be "home."
This is one of those books that I almost didn’t make it through, but picked up considerably towards the end and made the effort worthwhile.
It’s a gross over-simplification, but I don’t like anti-heroes, or any characterisation that comes close to such a definition. One of the Janine Brown’s that make up the main characters of this book is a drifter, which in and of itself isn’t any problem. She starts off strong, in my book, when she knocks her abusive boyfriend unconscious with a coffee mug. But then she proceeds to lie, cheat, steal and string along the ‘other’ Janine Brown and her Great-aunt, and I don’t really care why or how sad her story is (and it is, by the way). I don’t care that I know that the trope virtually requires that the character is going to regret their actions, and find redemption, either. I just don’t like the trope, so I was pretty close to DNF’ing this one, but inertia, if nothing else, kept me reading it.
I still have problems with the premise as it relates to the above, and I was left dissatisfied with the weak explanations for why the ‘other’ Janine Brown retreated so completely into dysfunctional shyness after the death of her fiancé, but Great-aunt Midge managed to pull it altogether and make the story into something far more interesting and touching. The men were … meh. Necessary, I suppose but not central to the plot; this is definitely a story of a friendship forged under unusual circumstances.
Better than I expected, but not as good as the other book of hers I’ve read, The Matchmakers of Minnow Bay.