Archive for the ‘Books’ Category
I’m not a fan of blood and gore thrillers in film, but put the stuff in a book
and I’m hooked. Jo Nesbo’s latest in the genre begins with terror and rare-
ly allows the reader time to breathe a sigh of relief. The Leopard starts
roughly where The Snowman left off, with Harry Hole now living in Hong
Kong where gambling and opium dictate his life – but not for long since
the Norwegian police need help solving another murder spree back on his
home tundra.
Hole doesn’t take long to determine the murders are related. Just as he
did in the previous novel, Nesbo takes readers on a hold-onto-your hats,
whiplash-inducing ride from one possibility to another, then back again,
and again. Additionally, he throws in several subplots just to keep things
really moving. The lure that actually brings Hole back to Norway is not
the challenge of the chase, it’s his near-death, elderly father. As Hole
unpacks the emotional baggage this creates, he establishes the connect-
ion of the murders, pines for his ex-wife and stepson, is attracted to a
female investigator, and is entangled in a turf war between the Oslo crime
unit and state police. This may sound like standard mystery ingredients, but
they’re not. And, it may make Hole seem like a superhero, but no way.
The beauty of Nesbo’s writing is the attention to detail, the depth of his
characters, and the thrill he creates as they battle to thwart or uphold
justice in very human ways.
The Leopard
Four Bookmarks
Adolph A. Knopf, 2012
517 pages
The word submission has multiple meanings, and all find their way
into Amy Waldman’s The Submission. On its surface, the reference
is to the design proposal for a 9/11 Memorial; subsequent insinuat-
ions include compliance, obedience and capitulation – among others
– as associated with religion, politics, marriage, relationships, em-
ployment: in other words, life.
Waldman’s finely woven novel begins with a committee charged
with selecting a memorial design. As the jury argues the merits of
one proposal over another, the most vocal advocate for one in parti-
cular is Claire, a widow representing the families who lost loved ones
in the World Trade Center. The initial conflict, however, is not what
creates the intrigue that results in turning the pages at an exception-
ally rapid rate; it’s the discovery that the selected memorial designer
is Mohamed Khan, a Muslim American.
The ripple effect evolves into a racial tsunami with politicians, report-
ers, other families directly affected by 9/11, and extremist organiza-
tions. Waldman raises questions that have no easy answers. Just as
the characters ask themselves how to best deal with this difficult
situation, the issues confront the reader as well. Emotions, values,
and preconceptions taint major and minor players alike.
The passage of ten years has not diminished the image of the twin
towers in flames, or other indelible impressions from that day.
Waldman’s portrait of the lingering aftermath demonstrates that
cultural and personal prejudices remain. Although the novel focuses
on New York City residents, it will resonate with American citizens
no matter where they live.
The Submission
Four-and-a-Half Bookmarks
Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2011
299 pages
I’m a writing tutor at a community college. It’s at once rewarding, challenging,
and, sometimes, frustrating. In a break from rhetorical analyses and summaries,
a student, with the aid of an ASL interpreter, asked for reading help. Initially
I recommended a reading tutor, but soon realized she was more interested in
books than the process.
“I don’t know how I should feel at the end of the book,” she explained.
Her face revealed she was being neither ironic nor sarcastic; she was earnest.
I was silent. What should you feel at the end: joy, relief, disappointment?
“It’s pretty subjective,” I finally answered. “So much depends on the book and
where you are in your life. Some books I don’t want to end; the good ones I think
about long after setting it down for the last time. Others make want me to read
something better where I can know the characters, revel in the language, be awed
by the images, or just enjoy the story. Sometimes after finishing an exceptional
book, I don’t even want to read anything new for a while.”
Her rapid hand movements interrupted me, “But have you read any famous books?”
The inquiry seemed sincere. “I read a lot,” I said, “including books that could be
considered famous.”
For a moment she was still before she scrunched her face, moving her lips and
her hands at the same time. “Like Harry Potter?”
“Sure, like Harry Potter,” I said. “I read those to my kids, at the end we couldn’t
wait for the next one.”
Was that it? Did she really just want to know how she should feel at the end of
Harry Potter?
We all shrugged our shoulders.
It left me wanting to read a good book, one I can’t put down. How should you feel
when you finish a book?
Labeled as a “novel about food and friendship,” The Recipe Club by
Andrea Israel and Nancy Garfinkel chronicles a long-time friendship
through emails, letters and recipes. The latter are the real stars. From
appetizers such as, “Good Karma Veggie Samosas,” to desserts includ-
ing, “Wash-Away the Blues Berry Cobbler,” each recipe is named to
coincide with the events in the characters’ lives.
Roughly ninety percent of the book is written as correspondence. I
suspect each author assumed the role of one of the two main charact-
ers, friends Val and Lily, who weather every imaginable squall as
young girls/teenagers. The distinct voices reflect their contrary per-
sonalities, which add weight to the opposites-attract-theory of re-
lationships.
With two narrators, it’s easy to provide both sides to every story. It
is also not difficult to see how misinterpretations occur. The novel
begins with an email exchange between the two women as they try
to bridge a 28-year rift in their friendship. It’s no spoiler to say the
attempts prove fruitless. This is followed by the main section of the
book: letters written between 1964 and 1973, and nearly all are
accompanied by a recipe for their recipe club. Everything leads to-
ward their falling out.
The result of the book’s structure is a “Forest Gump” approach to
showing the times as they were a changin’ for Val and Lily. The for-
mat was an uncomplicated way to introduce others who impacted
their lives. Friendship and food are important connections; the
authors show sometimes they aren’t always stress-free.
The Recipe Club
Three Bookmarks (thanks to the recipes)
HarperCollins, 2009
337 pages
The sense of smell is rich in clichés: “Wake up and smell the coffee;”
“stop and smell the roses;” “relatives and fish smell after three days.”
In her book, Season to Taste, Molly Birnbaum writes of her life
without the ability to smell, so everything associated with scent
renders those sayings not just tired, but impossible.
Months before Birnbaum was to enter the Culinary Institute of Ameri-
ca she was struck by a car and suffered multiple injuries, including
losing her sense of smell which is known as anosmia. As she comes to
grip with the repercussions of this loss, she relinquishes her dream to
become a chef and latches onto the quest of learning about all things
olfactory.
Birnbaum’s writing is forthright, conversational yet occasionally bord-
erline academic. She experiences grief, anger and panic over the now-
missing sense she once took for granted. Aromas, odors, scents, what-
ever the name given, are, of course, everywhere. They evoke memories,
they provide contexts, they affect taste. With this in mind, Birnbaum
interviews numerous experts in the field of olfaction. She meets others
with anosmia. She studies at a perfume school in France, and visits flavor
design labs. Through these experiences, she relearns to identify smells,
falls in love, and reminds readers that this often under-rated of the
five senses really does enhance life in many, many ways.
The scientific information is interesting, but the best parts of Birnbaum’s
story are the personal elements she shares. That’s why it’s exciting when
she begins to cook again.
Season to Taste
Three Bookmarks
Ecco/HarperCollins, 2011
304 pages
In Great House, Nicole Krauss considers not just how an object is acquir-
ed, but how it is passed on to others. She shows that to bestow and to re-
ceive is not always a welcome, or even happy, occasion.
The novel has multiple characters, but it is really about just one thing: a
desk. Nonetheless, it is transformed from simply being household furniture
to something representing the different traits and lives of its owners. It is
imbued not only with personal histories, but also past world events. In
each of its homes, however, the desk physically overshadows everything
else, so the question that surfaces early on is: why is this particular piece
so important?
I found a lot of similarities between Kraus’s work and Accordion Dreams
by Annie Proulx. Both follow one specific item (in the latter, it’s the title
instrument) and both are haunting. The main difference is that Kraus
shows a connection among the five owners so the result is an amazingly
serendipitous puzzle. Here, Kraus, the author of A History of Love, has
written a fairy tale of sorts. In keeping true to that genre, Great House is
mournful and low on humor.
One problem lies with voice because everyone sounds the same. The pri-
mary distinction among the many narrators is in the descriptions of their
lives, rather than one personality being different from another. It’s the
situation that brings the desk into play and moves the story forward. Ulti-
mately, it’s something inanimate that drives the characters’ experiences.
Great House
Three Bookmarks
W.W. Norton & Co., 2011
289 pages
With so many recent literary references to tigers it’s easy to think
The Tiger’s Wife has something to do with Asia. That’s not the
case with Tea Obreht’s lyrical, engaging debut novel. Instead, she
writes about fear, imagination, survival, and war’s shadow – on an-
other continent altogether.
The title’s namesake and the “deathless man” are told like fairytales
along with the narrator’s, Natalia, desire to know the circumstances
of her much-loved grandfather’s death. These tales also figure promi-
nently in how he lived his life; he was a doctor and survived an earlier
war. It’s his demise that propels Natalia, and even though death is a
constant throughout the book, it is not disheartening.
Natalia, too, is a young physician in a devasted eastern European
country, whose story begins with her memories of going to the zoo
with her grandfather: to see the tigers. Other animals are mentioned,
but the tigers drive their visits. As Natalia grows up, the threat of war
is never far removed, yet she is surprised at her cavalier attitude
toward it. Later, when she treats children orphaned by war, she still
never appears to believe it’s real.
Although, she’s preoccupied with her grandfather’s death, the more
she looks for understanding, the more she explains the myths he shar-
ed. There actually was a tiger and a young girl known as its wife in
the grandfather’s childhood village. By contrast, the deathless man
was known only to the grandfather, and Natalia clearly wants to know
more about both men.
Four Bookmarks
Random House, 2011
338 pages
It’s difficult to like a character who doesn’t like herself, especially when
as a reader it is just as easy to see the positive qualities as the foibles.
Victoria Jones is Vanessa Diffienbaugh’s problematic protagonist in The
Language of Flowers.
Granted, Victoria has every right to be troubled. Abandoned at birth, in
and out of foster care most of her life, and emancipated at age 18, she has
no skills or acknowledged support system. Yet, on those few occasions
when things do go her way, Victoria is a master of sabotage.
However, this is no victim of the system story. Rather, it a poignant look
at what makes a family (for better or worse) and how people communicate
when words fail. There is, in fact, a language associated with flowers. It’s
known as floriography. Each flower has a meaning that goes beyond its
shape, color or bloom. Victoria knows this, and her knowledge isn’t just
a marketable skill, but a way for her to express herself.
Ironically, Victoria is the narrator. The short chapters alternate between
her past, which includes life in foster homes, group homes and a near-miss
adoption, and her life as an 18-year-old trying to survive alone on the streets
of San Francisco.
Unfortunately, Diffenbaugh throws in a few clichés, like the over-extended
social worker, and abandons several likeable characters. Nonetheless, this
novel is a bouquet of peonies, primrose, ginger, mustard, moss, amaryllis
and fennel. They may seem an unusual grouping, but Victoria reflects all
their meanings.
The Language of Flowers
Three Bookmarks
Ballentine Books, 2011
322 pages (including “Victoria’s Dictionary of Flowers”)
I love receiving books as gifts, especially when it’s obvious the bearer has
decided it’s something I would particularly enjoy. I try to do the same,
but am not – admittedly – always successful. I’m pleased to say my friend,
Esteban, was on the money in giving me Tracey Lawson’s A Year in the
Village of Eternity.
Lawson writes of food and Italy (two of my favorite things) and longevity.
The secret to a long life has nothing to do with a fountain of youth. Instead,
it is a cascade of fresh, organic, seasonal food augmented by family, friends
and an active lifestyle. That’s Lawson’s premise as she describes Campodimele,
Italy, where the average life expectancy, for men and women, is 95 years!
Lawson provides a month-by-month account of a year in Campodimele, thus
sharing seasonal experiences that coincide with weather, festivals, crops and
food preparation. The village is located between Rome and Naples in the
mountains above the Tyrrhenian coast. The focus is on the people, individuals
who shared their kitchens, produce and recipes, but it’s their lifestyle that is
particularly intriguing. Numerous studies have been conducted linking longe-
vity to the Campomelano diet which is low in salt, includes moderate amounts
of wine, and is full of protein-rich beans, fish and chicken. All this in addition
to fresh produce, which is canned, dried or otherwise preserved to last through-
out the year.
A bonus, besides Lawson’s vivid, sensual imagery of the landscape, people and
meals, is the collection of photographs and recipes.
A Year in the Village of Eternity
Three and a half Bookmarks
Bloomsbury, 2011
374 pages
I’ve had three dogs in my adult life, so I found the first line of Jill Abramson’s
The Puppy Diaries – Raising a Dog Named Scout powerful: “The truth
about getting a new dog is that it makes you miss the old one.”
Still, I struggled with Abramson’s combination memoir/how-to guide which
chronicles the life she and her husband share with their blond golden retriev-
er. How he came into their lives is interesting and the joy he brings is palpable,
but not necessarily unique. I don’t want to disparage the connection she has
with her dog, but anyone who has played or lived with a dog will be familiar
with everything Abramson writes about. This may be a source of reassurance
for some dog owners, but for readers it is the book’s major flaw. What sets
the story apart, and is given only a casual nod, is the way dog ownership has
changed, and that the Abramsons are “aging baby boomers with dogs …”
Don’t get me wrong, I have immense respect for Abramson. She is the first
female excutive editor of The New York Times. Her journalism creds are both
impressive and intimidating to me, a former reporter. No doubt, her journal-
istic background provided access to the sources she doles out like special
treats.
Writing about dogs is a sure-fire way to evoke emotion among dog owners.
Most wear their passion for their canine pals like a collar of pride. Clearly,
Abramson is no exception, but then neither am I.
“The Puppy Diaries”
Two Bookmarks
Times Books, 2011
242 pages
