The Reason Why by Vickie Stringer

Vickie Stringer is the author of a very popular fiction book, Let That Be the Reason.  Imagine This was the sequel to Let That Be the Reason, and The Reason Why is the "prequel" to Let That Be the Reason.  The Reason Why is the only one of these three books I've read; it was deeply discounted at Borders one day and I bought it.  As with so many books I read, it's just serendipity.

The Reason Why is most concisely described as a cross between Romeo and Juliet and The Sopranos.  Neither of the young lovers die in this book, but they have a sweet "first romance" that is thwarted by the by imprisonment of Chino, the head of a drug dealing street unit.

Chino meets Pam almost accidentally; to avoid a police dragnet he drops his pistol into her purse knowing that the police won't search the ladies.  Pam, a student at a Columbus, Ohio university, finds Chino to return the gun, and an instant attraction between them, full of braggadocio, flares.

To me, the charm of this book is its dialogue and the story of young lovers. When Chino is meeting with his subordinates, their dialogue is very musical.  The first time they each say "I love you" is a major moment in their romance, as is the first time Chino takes Pam to the condo he bought for them to live in.

When Chino first meets Pam, he spends a lot of time bragging about nothing in particular.  Pam is impressed, and has no thought that getting involved with Chino might not be wise or have consequences she would find heavy to bear.

Chino is making a lot of money, and sets Pam up in business.  For several chapters, their relationship deepens.  Chino plans to make a lot of money and get out of the drug dealing business.

When Chino's business is disrupted by a major bust in another area and rivalry with an adjoining gang, he is sent to prison.  While in prison he learns from a friend that Pam has been seen in public with another man.  Unable to believe that she is not cheating on him, their relationship deteriorates.  

Still Life by Louise Penny

I'm not sure what made me want to read this book now - Louise Penny has been hanging out on the edges of my consciousness for some time.  I'm so glad I got around to reading it; I love it.

What I appreciate about this novel is the wide variety of topics Penny touches on in the course of the story.  One is the shifting emotional dynamic of a marriage; another is Quebecois separatism; another is art and antiques; another is the difficulty of coming out as a teenager discovers his homosexuality; another is the difficulty of mentoring a young know-it-all.

I have a friend who loves this series and says that she loves Inspector Gamache.  It's interesting; there are never any detective series about detectives who put their careers above finding the correct answer. Inspector Gamache is no exception to this rule; at one point he refuses to arrest a man whom he thinks is innocent and is forced to accept a suspension as a result.

The acknowledgments that Penny, a journalist, prefaced her novel with are perhaps more interesting than the book itself:  as she thanks her husband and her friends she's quite candid about how her single-minded focus and need for support might have made her a selfish friend, or at least a needy one.  And, she explains that she had won an award from other authors for her unpublished manuscript which made the eventual publication of Still Life possible.

8/30/15

I saw Louise Penny interviewed by Terry Tazioli on Well Read, an author interview show on PBS (produced in Seattle), about a month ago.  Penny said several things I found very interesting.  One was that when she was working on Still Life, she anticipated writing a series and figured, since she was going to spend so much time with her lead character, Inspector Gamache, she thought she should make him someone she would enjoy.  Later she realized that Inspector Gamache was a lot like her husband.

She also told Tazioli that her aim in writing Still Life was to show that there was still good in the world.  I thought that was so surprising, in a way, because revealing the murderer shows the reality of evil, doesn't it?  I may not understand.  But a quality that Still Life has is that it celebrates friendship and connection.

The Next Always and Key of Light by Nora Roberts

Well, I thought I ought to finally get around to reading Nora Roberts, and I finally did.  I picked up Key of Light at a garage sale and The Next Always at the library.

I started Key of Light (2003) first and finished The Next Always first; as I began both novels I was very disappointed to see that they both had supernatural elements.

Key of Light is about some attractive, thoroughly modern mortals who rescue some trapped Celtic goddesses (I guess you have to be there) and The Next Always is about a bookstore owner and Iraq widow falling in love with the guy who had a crush on her all through high school and is now directing the renovation of a local, historical inn that is haunted.

What surprised me most is that they are so well-written.  I expected nothing but romance, but found that Roberts was skilled at description, setting and dialogue.

Some of her dialogue really snaps and is truly witty.  Some of it, especially in The Next Always, is a surprisingly accurate portrait of how folks really talk.  I greatly admire writers who can capture true speech; it's one of the things I admire about Lee Smith.

And, I was surprised that, in my non-linear way, I gradually became interested in and enjoyed reading both novels (I'd originally planned to just read a little, just to get the flavor).  Honestly, I didn't read all of The Next Always -- I read the first few chapters and then, picking it up in the middle, read all the way to the end.

Something else I find interesting is that both novels feature a group of three women who get together and go into business for themselves.  In Key of Light, it's a combination bookstore, art gallery, hair salon; in The Next Always, it's a gift shop at the Inn.

A writer named Lauren Collins wrote an interesting and judicious profile of Nora Roberts that appeared in the New Yorker in 2009.  I read it when it appeared.

What I read most from the profile is the following passage:

At dinner with Roberts and Wilder one night, I mentioned a scene in her novel "Birthright," in which the heroine, Callie Dunbrook, receives a coffee-table book about Pompeii from a man who may or may not be her father, who confesses to once having made the mistake of selecting an automotive accessory as an anniversary gift for his wife.


"You'll never live it down," Roberts said to Wilder, who was engrossed in a large platter of eggplant parmigiana.
She turned to me. "He doesn't even know what I'm talking about!"
Roberts continued, "First Christmas! What did you give me our first Christmas?"
"I don't remember," Wilder replied.
"I do. Car mats."

What I'm reading now

I've just finished Wallflower at the Orgy by Nora Ephron; I'm reading the Black Tulip by Alexandre Dumas, Bet Me by Jennifer Crusie, & Nora Roberts' Key to Light.

Bet Me and Faking It by Jennifer Crusie

Just finished Bet Me (2004, I think).  I'd read Faking It a few years ago.

Both books feature outlandish plots, witty dialogue and lots of pop culture references.  This seems to have been a bigger feature in Faking It, filled with references both known and obscure, to '50's hits, than in Bet Me.  In Bet Me I was not surprised, then, to encounter Elvis and learn that Min was a huge fan.  But when Elvis Costello was mentioned I was really surprised to find myself grounded in the late 20th century.  The outlandish plots do make a reader feel ungrounded.

In Bet Me, the heroine falls in love with a guy who takes her out to win a bet (and she knows this).  She falls in love but most unwillingly. (The convention that folks fall in love despite themselves, their other plans, the machinations, wishes and expectations of others is fulfilled here; the love interest's ex-girlfriend is a psychologist and still wanting him, uses her expert knowledge to attempt to manipulate him).  Crusie shows a sympathetic understanding of female psychology.  Something I enjoyed greatly is that Crusie developed the supporting characters - the friends of the tormented couple and her sister.

In Faking It, the plot is even more outlandish.  The heroine meets the man of her dreams in a closet, early in the novel.  And they kiss, before page 30.  (Kissing is very big in Crusie's books and there is a little sex.)  A major impediment to their romance, despite their brief acquaintance, is that they are both engaged in illegal activities which leads to having a lot of secrets, misunderstandings and hesitations - why, just the very elements that make up a great romance story.

I think Bet Me could make a cute film.  I don't know if its cliched elements make it more or less filmable.  I think the "nutty" outlandish elements might be tricky but given the reliance on convention in this genre, it seems a shame to lose them - they're outlandish but original in an environment that's more predictable than a Holiday Inn.

China To Me by Emily Hahn

I can't do this book justice, which is a pity, because I'm in such a rush.

Emily Hahn was an American writer who accompanied her sister to Shanghai in the early '30's, on her way to Africa (which she loved).  She fell in love with Shanghai and couldn't bring herself to leave.  Shanghai in the thirties was full of foreigners and had an intriguing cafe society that mixed folks of many nationalities and classes.  I can see why she found that a heady and fascinating mix.

After several years in Shanghai, she traveled to Chiangking (sp?) to write a biography of the Soong Sisters (Mrs. Sun Yat-Sen (sp?), Madame Chang Kai-shek, and Madame Kung, three sister married to the most important politicians in China at that time).  Through her contacts she knew an amazing number of people. 

Then she traveled to Hong Kong, planning to return to Shanghai shortly thereafter .. but her plans changed and she ending up staying in Hong Kong much longer than she intended and was there when the Japanese took the city. 

Emily Hahn had a fascinating love life, which she touches on glancingly here.  As much as I might have liked details (okay, I longed for them, and explanations, too), I think that she took care to tread a fine line between honestly and openness .. after all, she had a child by the time she wrote this account, shortly after returning to America in 1944.

In Hong Kong, there was an amazing diverse population as well.   Her account of the Japanese occupation is fascinating, as well.

Hahn's fascinating life seems to have grown out of her fascinating character.  She was described, on the back of my paperback copy of China to Me, as a "citizen of the world," and I think that must be true.  She got on with an amazingly diverse group of people and I think part of this must have been a writer's fascinating with observation.  To my view, she was far ahead of her time and a great adventuress, and this story reads like an adventure story, full of event.  She's a wonderful storyteller, and if you like tales of wartime hardship or adventuresome lasses, I recommend this book to you.

The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde

I enjoyed The Eyre Affair.  It centers on Thursday Next, a war veteran and police officer who investigates the loss of a time/fiction travel machine, the "prose portal," and the kidnapping of Jane Eyre from the novel of the same name.

This is fantasy, obviously, and alternative history - here, the authorship of Shakespeare's plays is hotly debated, Richard III is an interactive event like singing along to the Sound of Music, the Crimean War has been dragging on for 131 years, Winston Churchill never survived to adulthood, and literature is so popular its popularity would rival a combination of reality TV, NASCAR, and pop music - if that were possible.  Jane Eyre ends with Jane resignedly marrying St. John Rivers and taking off to Africa.  The novel's passionate admirers admit, when forced to do so, that the ending is unsatisfying.

Did I mention that there are vampires in this world?  And, almost everyone has an interesting name.

Thursday is another in a long line of detectives with personal problems. Her character's assertion, bravado, and independence reminded me a little of Sara Paretsky's V.I. Warshawski.  Unlike many detectives, while she is lonely, and lovelorn, really, she's far from alone:  she has her pet dodo, her ex-fiancee, both parents, an aunt and uncle, and even a brother.

Thursday is a veteran of the Crimean War and of a pivotal battle in which her brother was killed.  She's been traumatized by the war, and her life has been on hold since she broke up with her fiancee, also a veteran of her unit in the Crimea.

Her uncle Mycroft is an eccentric, a brilliant inventor who has devised a machine called the "Prose Portal."  To test the machine, he sends his wife, Polly, to the poem "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud," but has trouble bringing her back.

Her father is a fugitive ChronoGuard operative who is looking into the death of Nelson; he fears history has been rewritten by the French revisionists.  Meanwhile, Thursday's mother is convinced that her father is having an affair with Emma Hamilton.

There is a lot of exposition in this novel:  we also get to meet Joffy, Thursday's brother and another improbably named relation.  I found myself feeling that the plot didn't really get rolling until around page 250 and still didn't display any sense of urgency.

In Thursday's work she encounters many frustrating bureaucratic problems, but the worst is Jack Schitt of the Goliath Corporation.  The Goliath Corporation has its fingers in many pies; one of them is a 24-hour news network.

The ending was very satisfying, however, so I'd say it was worth the wait.  This is yet another book for lovers of literature; the novel Jane Eyre doesn't appear much until the last quarter of the book. But those readers who love the romance of Rochester and Jane will enjoy the ending hugely.

Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Schaffer and Annie Burrows

This is a fun and fascinating book, as its mixed-up title suggests, full of contrasting elements.

It appeals to me because it's set on Guernsey, a place about which I know little.  It has an interesting history.  It came to England as a Norman possession with William the Conqueror.  When England lost its French territories, it chose to remain with England even those it's quite close to the French coast and closer to it than to England.

Not surprisingly, Churchill felt he could not spare the resources to defend it from the Germans and so it was occupied from the fall of France to the end of the war.

Juliet Ashton is a writer touring England, and tiring of touring, to promote her new book.  Her new book is a collection of comic essays she wrote during the war, meant to humorize the hardships and privations of the war years.  As she wraps up her tour, she writes to her publisher that she is concerned about what she'll write next.  She's looking for ideas.  And, she's eager to turn her back on Izzy Bickerstaff, her nom de plume when she wrote her wartime pieces.

Out of the blue, she receives a letter from the island of Guernsey, from a pig farmer no less, who is writing her because he found a book, second-hand, with her name on the flyleaf.  He writes her because he wants more books, something of which there's a shortage in Guernsey after the war.  In particular, he wants a biography of a writer he's grown to greatly admire, Charles Lamb.  Ashton shares his interest in Lamb and is intrigued.  She comes to correspond with him and other natives of Guernsey.  She soon decides that her next book will be about Guernsey during the war years, and she decides to visit the island.

The novel contains many comic and cozy elements:  a close-knit community of eccentrics, a romance, an orphan child being cared for by a community.

It also contains very dark elements:  starvation, internment in labor camps, execution.

It is a story told in letters, a form I particularly love.  Letters are a particularly fine and economical way to convey comic vignettes, of which there are many in this novel.

The plotting is eventful, if predictable.  Predictability, however, is what many readers want.  The think the fact that this book has been a big best-seller around the world and is a book club favorite proves that.  Winningly, it's not too long, either.

I found the style to be accomplished, but the characterization to be uneven.  Somewhere after the one-third mark I found myself enjoying it less.

A word about the literary society:  early on in the book, one character talks about his great interest in Charles Lamb.  I had not thought about Charles Lamb since taking "Romantic Poets" in school.  Lamb's own life story is poignant, and I found it to be an agreeable element in the novel.

This is a good book for folks who like cozy communities, eccentric characters, stories about literature, stories about writers, stories about World War II and stories set in exotic locales.

Maeve Binchy

Ms. Binchy died on July 30, I believe, and of course, I was very sad.  Selfishly, I minded that I would not be able to read any more of her books (except for Minding Frankie and one or two others I hadn't gotten around to reading yet - Quentin's, I think).  I also mind knowing that now that she has passed, her work will likely be quickly forgotten.

In a way, it is what it is and can't be helped:  part of what made her work exciting to me was the casual but profound way in which her fiction reflected some of the enormous social change going on in Ireland over the last 4 or 5 decades.  The very timeliness and currency of her books mean that in ten years they may seem very dated.

It will not seem shocking but quaint to read a woman's dilemma when her shiftless, alcoholic husband who had deserted her years before appears on her doorstep and asks her to care for him in his final illness.  Social convention in the past would have robbed her of her choice; if shame didn't compel to take her wayward husband in, her priest would.  Today, women have choices but that doesn't mean that they're easy to make.

Maeve Binchy's cheerful grasp as a storyteller was pretty darn big - full of chiches, melodrama, self-help bromides, and breathless run-on sentences that captured the flavor of conversation.  But her books created joy:  her stories made you laugh and cry and you consumed them at a breakneck speed, dying to know what was going to happen.

While some novels, like Tara Road, had an ending that was entirely too neat, other novels like Glass Lake, Circle of Friends, and Scarlet Feather had elements that reflected the complexity and complication of real life.

I noticed one reviewer mentioned that Glass Lake and Evening Class were her favorite novels; they were mine, also.  In Glass Lake, it seemed to me that she took on her most audacious question:  is there ever a time when a mother may be forgiven for abandoning her child?  I think the ending was hard for her and I would have preferred a stronger one but it was bold and brave to write that novel.

I can't really tell you why I loved Evening Class.  Perhaps it was merely that while I have taken many evening classes that did not result in friendship or friendships, the nourishment these friends take from each other is nourishing, cozy and completely wish-fulfilling.  Is that wrong?  Can it be wrong?

I recall that the heroine of Scarlet Feather was married to the master's son; her mother was that family's longtime housekeeper.  Her resentment of her mother's status and treatment was so greatly present in her mind that I could not wonder if that, as well as her career (and her husband's) contributed to the breakup of that marriage.  I've always wondered what Binchy was saying there:  Was she saying that we should not marry outside of our class?  (Surely not!)  Was she simply creating a good story, knowing that many of her readers would identify with the heroine's nose-pressed-against-the-glass feeling?  I wonder.  This character was strong, independent, hard-working, ambitious and truly competent.  Perhaps this little unresolved complexity was another intriguing element of Binchy's work.

I loved reading her books, I greatly admired her combination of gratifying plots and profound reflection on women's choices, I will miss her and someday I hope I'll write something that was inspired by her.  

What I'm reading now

I'm reading Emily Hahn's China to Me, Jasper Fforde's The Eyre Affair, and the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Burrows.

Escape from Camp 14 by Blaine Harden

This nonfiction book is an account of the life of Shin Dong-Hyuk, a North Korean man who has the distinction of being the only North Korean born into servitude in a North Korean concentration camp who escaped to the West (or the east, depending on your point of view).

Camp 14 is a very large concentration camp located in the mountains of North Korea.  The North Korean government denies the existence of these camps, but their existence has been verified through satellite photographs.

There are a few former North Koreans who have given accounts of these camps; Shin Dong-Hyuk has the distinction of having escaped from North Korea with very little knowledge of North Korea as a country or of the propaganda surrounding its ruling dynasty and the ruling party.

Blaine Harden, the journalist who wrote this book, presents a narrative that is short, incredibly easy to read, and one in which he seems to strain to be objective.  I think he himself does not know exactly what to make of Shin Dong-Hyuk. Harden resists shaping the narrative.  I admire his integrity and restraint; I found myself feeling a little confused.

Harden clearly feels that Shin Dong-Hyuk may have a credibility problem in the eyes of some readers and goes to great pains to talk about any corroboration our current knowledge of North Korean labor camps gives Dong-Hyuk's report.

As a journalist, he may also be troubled about the difficulty of simply corroborating most of Dong-Hyuk's story, something that would normally not only be relatively easy but not nearly as important.  As it is, Harden and the reader are forced to acknowledge that it's difficult to know if Dong-Hyuk is telling the truth.

On the one hand, the story of his escape is both far-fetched and gruesome.  Its horror seems unlikely.  It's so horrifying that it seems natural to me that some readers would question its veracity.

On the other hand, Dong-Hyuk's account includes admissions so shameful that they support the idea that this is an honest account.  Dong-Hyuk was ignorant of the kind of knowledge of his world that we take for granted.  Nevertheless, he sometimes succeeded in manipulating camp officials to his own personal benefit, so he did not seem innocent.

This book does offer a view of a chaotic society roiled by starvation.  Oddly, I think that had I been asked to guess whether widespread starvation would lead to the collapse of the state, I would have said yes.  North Korea has not collapsed.  (Clearly, I would have been wrong.  Had someone else been present, I'm sure they would have said something like, "You're a very poor student of Irish history," and I would have had to agree.)  I have been wondering, "What's the secret of this dictatorship's success?"  Perhaps it is the combination of manipulation of information and communication so effective it would make Stalin blush, poverty, and lack of education.

Harden asserts that North Korean authorities have at times, during these recent years of famine, permitted black market trading, and even a porous border with China,  He argues that the government's granting of this level of freedom may have been a "safety valve" tactics that removed some of the motivation for unifying against the government.

Harden seems to have become interested in the story of Shin Dong-Hyuk because of the scarcity of any information about North Korea.  Ironically, as Harden points out several times in this account, Dong-Hyuk knew next to nothing about the world outside his labor camp before he escaped and is therefore not in a position to offer much insight about his country or its government.

Remembering Dong-Hyuk's escape I am astounded at his success in undertaking a cross-country journey and crossing the border without being caught and without having much help.  I am astounded at how well and quickly he adapted to life in northeast China (which has a large ethnic Korean population).

This book reminded me of Jerzy Kosinski's The Painted Bird and Elie Wiesel's Night.  It also reminded of Truffaut's L'Enfant Sauvage, which I think was based on a nonfiction account of a doctor to attempted raise a boy who had been found living in the woods as an animal, without human contact.  My recollection is that in real life, the child died before reaching adulthood.

I cannot offer an unbiased opinion of this book myself, however.  I do not enjoy books that recount traumatic events.  In fact, I do not understand their appeal.

Gretchen Rubin talked a little bit about "catastrophe memoirs" in her book, The Happiness Project.  I believe that she viewed them as having a salutary effect and the power to give the reader a greater sense of perspective, as the saying goes, and an appreciation for the comforts and joys of his or her own life.  Interestingly, some of the memoirs she mentioned were memoirs of divorce.

This is a memoir of murder, abuse, corruption, starvation, theft and moral degradation.  Perhaps it could not be termed a "catastrophe memoir".  

In the Garden of the Beasts by Erik Larson

This is a wonderfully readable and entertaining book. A caveat: Before you start reading it, look up Goebbels and Goring in Wikipedia. Having some sense of them as individuals may make it possible for you to keep them straight while you're reading the book. I'm pretty good at keeping the cast of characters straight in almost anything I read (I didn't struggle with 100 Years of Solitude, for instance) but I was pretty confused here. It's the story of a University of Chicago history professor who became FDR's ambassador to Berlin (a job no one else wanted, it seemed) and that of his daughter, a "free spirit". A few oddities. This is the story of a father and his daughter, though their relationship is not the story told in this book. Mom and Junior don't really figure much in this history. The first year of the Dodds' residency in Berlin is recounted in great detail; the rest of their story is barely summarized. The Dodds are real American characters in both the best and worst ways, I would say. To me, I would say that his ambassadorship gave him an opportunity to do something heroic which ended his career as an ambassador but which he would never had had an opportunity to do had he stayed in Chicago. And, that are many episodes in this book that are chilling. So it's not for everyone. Also, I personally thought that the first two chapters' exposition dragged. Oddly, for all that exposition, I thought that Larson should have offered some definition of the term "Jeffersonian democrat" and considered the question of whether Dodds' work as an ambassador was affected by his self-image.

The Wagon by Martin Preib

I greatly admire Martin Preib's writing. I enjoy the tension between his working life as a police officer and his mental life as an observer and writer.

I found out about it because a friend took a course at the Newberry Library where it, along with City on the Make by Nelson Algren, was one of the assigned texts. This book is a rumination on Preib's work as a Chicago cop, and primarily his work running the "wagon," the vehicle that is called to take dead bodies to the morgue. In Preib's writing he combines a practical account of the work of being a cop with his own emotional inner life, his relation to the city of his birth and his own unanswered questions about some of the choices he's made and places them in the larger context of our literary tradition. I think he perceives a greater need for ceremony and connection.