Comfort Reads

In times of trouble I turn to comfort reading.  You know what I mean — books where the problems are understandable, humans are mostly kind to one another and much is resolved over a nice cup of tea.

First, a few requirements, these comfort books must be well written, the stories well developed and the characters multidimensional.  No insipid chick-lit or light romance for me (not that there’s anything wrong with that…).

In case you too, are feeling a bit down during these sad days, here are some suggestions.  These are my favorite comfortable read authors… many of whom I keep on my shelves to re-read when I’m gloomy.

 

 

Joanna Trollope writes sparklingly readable novels often centered around the nuances and dilemmas of life in present-day England. She is witty, with a truly acute ear for dialogue. Her novels are never long enough for me. I have read most all her novels — some more than once, because she makes me laugh, think and also sometimes groan, at the complexities of modern life.  Her novels take modern life head on; divorce, errant children, flawed friendships and fallen expectations – but all woven with great human resilience.  Recommended: A Village Affair

Marcia Willett is a veddy veddy English author.  Her settings are a major pleasure in reading her books — cottages or large manor homes in the English countryside.  Her plots revolve around the emotional pull of families and friends.  Her characters are always interesting.  The families are complicated, but loved. Friends are irritating, but cherished.   Secrets are revealed in aga-heated kitchens with a pot of tea and fresh baked crumpets. Recommended:  A Week in Winter

I’ve mentioned Bill Bryson before here at Book Barmy, but I turn to him to cheer me up as I snicker, snort and laugh out loud at his writing.  My favorite are his wonderfully descriptive travel books – from hiking the Appalachian Trail to traveling in middle American.  Mr. Bryson is a smart writer who has a knack of seeing the wry humor in just about everything. He is also a traveler’s travel writer — not content to follow well-worn tourist locations, but instead visits the obscure and calls out the wacky with often hysterical results.  Recommended:  Neither Here Nor There

 

Elizabeth Berg.  A recent author discovery for me.  I found a book of hers in one of those little free libraries up in Lake Tahoe.  Opened the book that evening and fell in headfirst, finishing it the next evening.  When I came home, I discovered I had several of her books languishing on my shelves, given to me by friends and my sister.  I had shied away, categorizing her as “woman’s lit”, which I often find trying.  But based on my good experience, I read through another one (sending it on to you Connie)  and am almost through a third.  I wholly agree with Andre Dubus who said  “Berg writes with humor and a big heart about resilience, loneliness, love, and hope. And the transcendence that redeems.”   Woman’s lit, certainly, but with intelligence, depth and heavenly writing.  Recommended:  The Year of Pleasures.

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So, maybe it’s time to turn off the news, pull the curtains, light a fire in the fireplace, grab your favorite afghan and cuddle in with one of these comfort reads.  Shut the world away for a bit.

Abandoned Books…

Abandoned books? I know, appalling for someone who’s barmy about books.  But I admit it, I sometimes don’t finish books – even those well-reviewed best sellers thrust upon me by bookish friends or praised by other book bloggers.  And it’s happening more and more often as I get older — you know the so little time, so many books theory.    The 50 page rule prevails — I’ll give any book at least 50 pages before I put it down…sometimes more.  This cold rejection of an author’s herculean effort always tears me apart a little bit.  But, I’ve been told I’m too sensitive.  So I’ll just pull up my big girl panties and give you a rundown of the books I’ve abandoned recently.

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The Little Paris Bookshop:  This just seemed the perfect book for me.  What’s not to embrace?  A bookshop on a boat — in Paris — and just look at that cover.  But I found it just too whimsical and sticky-sweet.  I struggled on, actually reaching chapter 28 – as the bookshop owner pilots his boat away from its long-time berth in Paris.   But, just as the bookshop/boat meanders down the Seine, so too the plot – to the point where I practically fell into a sugar-laced coma.

 

 

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I eagerly opened Wild wanting the adventure it advertised, a broken hearted woman sets off, totally unprepared, to hike the Pacific Coast Trail.  I read ten chapters into this one, but I found her grief unbelievably extreme, so raw she seemed broken beyond what a hike (or sex along the way) could solve.  Her lack of emotional maturity, simply put — bored me.   N.B. The author has written the complete opposite of a book, Dear Sugar which I am dipping into and so far, I’m very moved by it, so stay tuned.

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I place Carlos Ruiz Zafon’s first book The Shadow of the Wind  on my list of all time favorite books.  Set in a Barcelona bookstore with many secrets, I lost myself in that novel for many days. So, I had expectations that the second book in this series – The Angel’s Game – would carry on the magic.  But this book is dark and very different with weird supernatural elements. I read through pages of violence and disturbing psychological ugliness. It seemed the author was angry with this writing – as he punches the reader with unresolved hard truths and unflinching observations.  In the end, what made me quit reading, was the many, many characters (and some with multiple personae)  — I just got plain confused. I was never sure what was going on in the convoluted story line and kept having to flip back and forth to see if I could figure out which character was which.  So with a slight headache, I took an aspirin and went to bed without a backward glance.

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I’ve had Nothing Daunted for several years now and keep doggedly trying to get through it. Just read this blurb:

The acclaimed and captivating true story of two restless society girls who left their affluent lives to “rough it” as teachers in the wilds of Colorado in 1916.

The reviews were wonderful, I was hearing about this book everywhere. And you got to  love the cover, with before and after photos of the actual subjects?  The introduction is just as enticing, as the author describes coming across a folder of her mother’s forgotten letters from this adventurous time in Colorado. The author has penned an historical work, which is comprehensive, but not compelling enough to keep this reader enthralled.   The landscape of the area and time period are well written.  But there is no emotion written into this account and the characters are one-dimensional.  The author had to obviously imagine parts of the story, why not insert some emotions as well?   Sadly, as exciting as these two women’s personal experiences must have been – their story suffers from a dull and dry telling.  Like ordering a beautifully described, but disappointing meal in a restaurant, I finally gave up and put it aside unfinished.

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I read The Dinner by Dutch writer Herman Koch, when it was a bestseller.  It’s a masterfully crafted psychological novel with the evil incident revealing itself largely by dialogue around a restaurant dinner. (Read it – it will grab you and not let you go.)  So, once again I had expectations of a similar read with his second book Summer House with Swimming Pool.  What happened to Mr. Koch’s writing?  Where is his craft?  This book, written entirely in the third person, lacked any plot as of five chapters in and the main character, whose revolting thoughts and dreary ramblings we must endure, is entirely unlikable. With The Dinner, the reader could relate and even empathize with the protective parents.  This follow-up has none of that soul or depth.  It is almost as if Mr. Koch dusted off one of his earlier writing attempts and the publisher ran with it.

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I had great hope for this glowingly reviewed memoir wherein a woman adopts and trains a Goshawk for falconry.  (I had my own, albeit limited, experience helping injured hawks back to the wild — but that’s another post).  Mabel, the hawk and her training is said to be a remedy for the death of her father, but that connection is never fully developed or understood. Why a mean-spirited hawk – why not a kitten or a dog?   Ms. MacDonald started to loose me as she details her poor raptor’s “training” in a tiny apartment with some less than humane activities.  H is for Hawk has some beautiful writing, especially when Mable’s training moves out into the open British countryside.  But, I set the book aside and let it gather dust when Ms. MacDonald’s writing became tedious over her obsession with the deceased author (and even more heartless falconer) T.H. White.

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I loaded  Hausfrau onto my Kindle for our trip to Switzerland, as it takes place in and around Zurich. So I settled in to read about a bored ex-pat housewife coping with a new culture as I traveled through the same country.  Anna is privileged, bored and frustrated.  She takes no interest in her husband or his work.  Her mother-in-law cares for her house and children.  Anna (even after 9 years) hasn’t bothered to learn the language or tried to assimilate. She can find no redeeming qualities in the Swiss culture or people.   So naturally, she turns to meaningless sex with a series of English-speaking men. (Even the sex scenes were boring).  An Anna Karenina character, but without class.  That’s when I closed the book  — but only after I’d mentally slapped her.

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There you go, my pile of abandoned books, most of which were gladly donated to the library. Let them find a reader who will appreciate them and give them rave reviews.

Not to worry, I’m into some great reading with nothing abandoned for now.

What books could you not finish?

 

The People in the Photo by Hélène Gestern

 

My branch library is only a few blocks away, which makes it a key destination whether I’ve gone walking on the beach or biked over to the produce market. Did I mention that my branch is newly renovated with a view of the ocean and huge windows that let the sun stream through?

Like a good bookstore, I can’t seem to pass by without popping in see what’s on the new arrivals shelf.  I have a miniature library card on my key ring in preparation for any serendipitous book finds.

The People in the Photo was just such a find.  The cover drew me in and the book was on it’s way home with me after this blurb:

The chance discovery of a newspaper image from 1971 sets two people on the path to learning the disturbing truth about their parents’ pasts.

Parisian archivist Hélène takes out a newspaper advert calling for information about her mother, who died when she was three, and the two men pictured with her in a photograph taken at a tennis tournament at Interlaken in 1971. Stéphane, a Swiss biologist living in Kent, responds: his father is one of the people in the photo. Letters and more photos pass between them as they embark on a journey to uncover the truth their parents kept from them.

Epistolary novels are one of my favorite literary genres, but it’s a difficult writing style to pull off.  Often it can be gimmicky, but when done well — riveting.   Hélène Gestern has achieved the latter, all the more impressive as a translated French novel.

The story unfolds in a mixture of letters, emails and texts between Hélène and Stéphane as they uncover and exchange  photos and revelations about their respective parents.

The characters evolve, as does their relationship, through their correspondence.  At first they are reserved and cautious which we discover is due in large part to the secrets and unresolved feelings of their childhoods.  But as they uncover new family histories, they also begin to share their feelings and soon develop a relationship they both believe will save them.  But, perhaps, these discoveries are revealing a truth they don’t want to accept…

This is a quick read – not only because of its page-turning story line, but many pages contain only a short email or text.  When I turned the last page of The People in the Photo, I turned back to the beginning to re-read parts of it again.  I wanted to revel in the craft of the author – how carefully the characters are developed, the teasing bits of secrets revealed and the import of each piece of correspondence.  In the end, I reluctantly returned this engaging novel to the library —  but its impression remains.

 

 

 

 

 

Nature of the Beast by Louise Penny

You may remember my previous post when I went to see Louise Penny at a local author appearance…and came away with a big author crush and her newest book, signed.

She gave a wonderful talk, answered questions (Myrna and her bookstore actually exist in Ms. Penny’s own village) and charmed everyone in attendance.

The next evening I made myself some bedtime tea and tore right in.  Two nights later I closed the book and pondered these last two books —Long Way Home and this latest one.

Ms. Penny is clearly taking Gamache into a new direction. His life, after all, has changed.  He is retired from the Sûreté and settled with his wife in the bucolic village of Three Pines.  Gamache is content with retirement on the outside, but little by little we are learning his internal struggle with his new purpose in life.  For Gamache, evil seems somehow – well all the more evil – when it invades his cozy existence in Three Pines.  And it does just that in Nature of the Beast.

Evil doesn’t just invade, it gallops into his sanctuary of Three Pines with the murder of a village boy with a vivid imagination, a menacing missile launcher is discovered abandoned in the woods down a country lane — even the local drama group is putting on a play authored by a now-jailed serial killer  — one of Gamache’s most horrifying past cases.

The dark threat prevails as Gamache and his former Sûreté colleagues work  to untangle the secrets in this intertwined case. A villager with a hidden identity may have been involved in a My Lai type Vietnam massacre, Ruth is revealed to have a dark past, and the Whore of Babylon is an on-going theme, adding yet another layer of apocalyptic tension to the story line.

Most importantly, a nemesis is introduced — John Fleming – – the serial killer playwright, now in jail who taunts Gamache with penetrating insights.  I suspect John Fleming will be back…

“I’m not the only prisoner in this room, am I?”,  Fleming asks (Gamache), “You’re trapped in that village, you’re a middle aged man waiting out his days”

Then, there is the darkness of grief and Ms. Penny’s elegant writing brought tears to my eyes.

“..all my bones will dissolve and one day I’ll just dissolve.  But it won’t matter, because there’s nowhere to go and nothing to do, no need of bones…”

I was fascinated by the depiction of Gamache’s new civilian role and the insightful writing depicts his internal conflict.

…(she) called Gamache ‘Monsieur’ rather than ‘Chief Inspector’.  It was natural, healthy, true — but to Gamache it felt like having a tattoo scraped off.

Ms. Penny breathes humanity as fresh air into the tension — a long running Canadian miseries glues everyone to their TV sets and provides valuable alibis, gardening gives respite from grief, there is frustration with the village’s lack of cell or Wi-fi services and the bistro scenes made this reader raid the cupboard for that tin of hot chocolate mix.

I’m pleased with the development of  Gamache’s wife, Reine-Marie and seeing her come to life as she moves beyond a supporting role to a key influence in Gamache’s thinking and actions.  

I read Nature of the Beast with some incredulity, wondering how a huge “super gun” could be hidden in the woods so near the center of Three Pines and none of the long-time villagers remembers it being built or anything about it?  Ten years ago the gun was strategically placed in Three Pines  (close to the Vermont border) so that the Iraqis could bomb the U.S.? Really?  After I finished the book, in the afterword, Ms. Penny reveals that the hidden missile launcher was based on true Canadian events — there really was such a gun and such a plan. Could have fooled me.

The story strained credibility even further when the final chapters depict a melodramatic race against time to save …whoops no spoiler here.

I kept thinking of the Murder She Wrote television series wherein Cabot Cove, Maine had a long running parade of far-fetched characters, seen-better-days actors and improbable story lines.

But just as I watched Jessica Fletcher to the bitter end (don’t judge), I won’t stop reading Ms. Penny’s books – ever.

The Gamache series is clearly going in a new direction and the last two books’ plots may often strain credibility — but her series still gift her readers with the some of the best writing, most elegant insights into art and humanity, and (not forgetting) the most idiosyncratic, loveable and interesting cast of characters in mystery fiction today.

True confessions,  I have decided to re-read the series in order from the beginning. As Nature of The Beast refers back to Still Life – the first in this wonderful series.

I’m yours Ms. Penny, where ever you take me (see author crush above).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Lost Garden, by Katharine Swartz

You may be surprised (nay, perhaps shocked) at how little I read when traveling.  All those flights, train trips, early evenings – one would think I’d be in book heaven…but afraid not.  I gaze out at the scenery during train journeys holding my book (or kindle) unopened. I find myself catching up on missed movies during long flights and, as a typically tired tourist (all that walking, exploring, eating, navigating and translating) I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.  So my reading falls by the wayside.

I wanted an easy-going book for this most recent trip.  Nothing too complicated with multiplying characters or, even worse, a family tree to keep straight.   I knew while in Switzerland, I would be happily distracted and pleasantly tired.  I would only be reading in short bits and pieces.

I’d been saving the The Lost Garden just for this trip.  I eagerly awaited this historical novel of a hidden garden with secrets, a dual time-line (present day and just after WWII) and set in rural England.  (I know, I’m  boringly quite predictable.)

It also held charm because it brought to mind The Secret Garden one of my all-time favorite and cherished children’s books.

The Lost Garden is both a mystery and family saga set at Bower House, on the edge of a village church property with a hidden walled garden. In 1919, nineteen-year-old Eleanor Sanderson is grieving the death of her brother so her father hires a young gardener, Jack to restore the walled garden to comfort her.  Eleanor falls for Jack especially once he reveals the garden to her.  (I won’t give away the special garden he created – just know it’s magical.)  Problems arise, secrets are kept and the garden is at the center of it all.

In the present day, Marin Ellis has taken on the custody of her sulky 15 year old half-sister, Rebecca.  They move to Bower house to try and start a new life for themselves.  They, too, are grieving the sudden accidental death of their parents.  When Rebecca shows a spark of interest in the now decrepit walled garden, Marin hires Joss, a local gardener to help them restore the garden.  Together, they uncover the garden’s past and its secrets – and again friendships and romance evolve around the lost garden.

I found the characters authentic and the setting just so darn dreamy (I want my own secret garden…).  For those readers who want a fast moving plot and high drama – this is not a book for you, as The Lost Garden moves gently and slowly along.  I found myself living with its characters, breathing in the rooms of the house and seeing the garden transformed in both time periods.

A purely pleasant read for total escape to a magical secret garden  — some times that’s all you need.

Digital review copy provided by Lion Fiction via NetGalley.

 

 

 

The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert

I was entranced by this book — just holding the beautiful hardback edition, with its botanical illustrations on the front and back flyleaves, gave me a little thrill.  I was especially hooked by the storyline which follows a  19th century female botanist.  I’ve long been fascinated with the early botanical illustrators who ventured into harsh climes to painstakingly draw and record plant specimens before the advent of photography.  Add to this that I savored Ms. Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love — both the book and the film.  So I was set – that magical feeling of embarking into a book that holds great promise.

The Signature of All Things starts with the turn of the century birth of Alma Whittaker in January of 1800 to unorthodox and wealthy Philadelphia parents.  On the first page we are lead back into Alma’s father’s beginnings  — with this wonderful line:

How her father came to be in possession of such great wealth is a story worth telling here, while we wait for the girl to grow up and catch our interest again. 

And so we learn of the world-spanning exploits of Henry Whittaker, thief turned botanist, in the late 1700s, where money follows Alma’s father around like a small, excited dog.

When we do meet Alma Whittaker some 50 pages in, she is being tutored by her parents in languages, acute observation and critical thought  — they expect her, from a young age, to actively participate in their glittering intellectual dinner parties. She is cocooned within their estate — White Acres and the plant world — so beloved by her father.  There is even a large indoor botanical garden patterned after George III’s own design.

Alma learned to tell time by the opening and closing of flowers. At five o’clock in the morning, she noticed, the goatsbeard petals always unfolded. At six o’clock, the daisies and globeflowers opened. When the clock struck seven, the dandelions would bloom. At eight o’clock, it was the scarlet pimpernel’s turn…

But, before long, Alma has descended into a prematurely sad, old woman. She is someone whose intellectual life is more important than any emotional one — she had too much to accomplish.

Whenever a beam of light shone through one of the tall, wavy-glassed windows, Alma would turn her face up toward it, like a tropical vine in one of her father’s botanical forcing houses, wishing to climb her way out.

Alma becomes an expert on mosses – her own botanical choice – as no one had ever studied their miniature ecosystems in depth.  Alma publishes several highly-regarded botanical volumes on mosses during her years.

Moss grows where nothing else can grow.  It grows on bricks.  It grows on tree bark and roofing slate.  It grows in the Arctic Circle and in the balmiest topics …moss is the first sign of botanic life to reappear on land that has been burned or otherwise stripped down to barrenness.  The only thing moss needs is time, and it was beginning to appear to Alma that the world had plenty of time of offer. 

Eventually Ambrose, an androgynous orchid illustrator,  captivates her with his words and his art – and so she marries him  — but alas, no romance for Alma.

For many years (even before Ambrose) Alma has found her sexual pleasure in a closet by herself – and we are given great detail of  her “self-pleasuring” exploits.  (Just as with the one and only porn film I watched, it quickly becomes painfully absurd.)

Alma lives well into her 9th decade, and her adventures, and those of her father, weave together the development of evolutionary thought during the mid-1800s.  We learn how Captain Cook influenced Charles Darwin and we even get to meet  A.R. Wallace who posited a theory of biodiversity concurrent with Darwin’s.  Alma, too, comes upon her own theory of evolution via her moss studies, but Darwin beats everyone to the punch and garners all the fame.  Ms. Gilbert fascinates in telling of these historical scientific discoveries, exploits and follies.

In an interview, Ms. Gilbert tells of  years doing research and a 70-page outline.   This exhaustive research and hard writing work clearly shines through in The Signature of All Things.

Where the novel falters is in the secondary characters who are introduced, one per chapter, as if even Ms. Gilbert was getting bored with her story and wanted new players.   Alma’s adopted sister Prudence and their friend, Retta are meant to contrast with Alma’s cerebral character —  but I found them unbelievable.  The novel becomes a little un-tethered (as does Alma) once she leaves White Acres for Tahiti and Amsterdam where the complicated and dramatic relationships feel a bit contrived.

I found the novel at times strikingly beautiful  —  there is some jeweled writing — but also at time, tedious.  Even though I merely scanned more than a few pages, I had to keep reading through to the end– as Alma’s story is ultimately fascinating and heartrending.

 

N.B.  The title of the book refers to the theory that all life contains a divine code which was put forth by 16th century botanist, Jacob Boehme in his book De Signatura Rerum (The Signature of All Things).