A Work in Progress

The Terra-Cotta Dog by Andrea Camilleri

I really like Inspector Salvo Montalbano.  I mean I've almost got a literary crush on him I like him so much.  He's intelligent and funny and a little quirky (sometimes a lot quirky), and how can you not like a character named Montalbano who reads mysteries by real life author Manuel Montalbán?  He even reads William Faulkner, too.  He's smart without exactly being intellectual.  And he has a discerning palate judging by the meals he consumes.  He's not without flaws, however.  He can be cranky and opinionated, needs to be in control but he's a decent guy.  I like him.  The Terra-Cotta Dog is Andrea Camilleri's second Inspector Montalbano mystery (I wrote about the first, The Shape of Water, here), which is set in Vigàta, Sicily, a place ripe with corruption and violence. 

Camilleri is a prolific writer, and I think he's published almost twenty Montalbano mysteries in Italy, though there are (so far) only fourteen translated into English.  The Terra-Cotta Dog was a wholly satisfying read.  I thought the first book in the series was good, and I think this second one was even better.  I'm already looking forward to the third (and I won't be waiting until next summer to pick it up either, which seems to have been a trend so far with my mystery reading).  I have a lot of catching up to do since I want to read all the books, but maybe that's a good thing as I have so many to look forward to.

The Terra-Cotta Dog is a mystery inside a mystery, which is the sort I like best.  You're reading happily along thinking the murder or crime at hand has been solved and then realize you haven't even actually gotten to the real story.  I have a feeling that in Sicily that if there's been a violent act, then the Mafia is surely close by.  At least a certain kind of violence.  In Montalbano's newest case, a hard-core Mafioso hands himself to Montalbano on a platter. 

Tano the Greek, with a reputation as an "evil beast", has requested (via Montalbano's pimp friend, Gegè) that Montalbano come see him.  Alone.  As it turns out Tano wants to "retire" from the business and has decided to "let himself be arrested".  The world is changing and so is the way business is being conducted in Sicily and he's ready to get out.  But to save face he asks for a certain amount of theatrics.  Although he is essentially giving himself up, he doesn't want to let it appear that way.  Montalbano, a well-respected man and detective, is the only one Tano will deal with. 

Part of the attraction of these stories for me is the way in which they are told, which is with a thread of humor running through them.  Montalbano is a fairly self-deprecating guy with a quick wit and totally no-nonsense.  To give you a flavor of both Montalbano's personality and Camilleri's writing style, you have to read this passage.  This is the sort of situation that comes along in Camilleri's stories that makes them such a delight (as crime novels go) to read.  Montalbano has called two of his detectives to help him in the arrest of Tano and here they are circling the house ready to surprise Tano (the two men not being privy to the set up).

"Montalbano's first leap forward was one for the books, or at the very least a training manual: a decisive, balanced ascent from the ground, worthy of a high-jump specialist, a weightless, aerial suspension, and a clean, dignified landing that would have amazed a ballerina.  Galluzzo and Germanà. who were watching him from different perspectives, took equal delight in their chief's bodily grace.  The start of the second leap was even better calibrated than the first, but something happened midair that caused Montalbano, from his upright posture, to tilt suddenly sideways like the tower of Pisa, then plunge earthward in what looked truly like a clown's routine.  After tottering with arms outstretched in search of a nonexistent handle to grab onto, he crashed heavily to one side.  Instinctively, Galluzzo made a move as if to help him, but stopped himself in time, plastering himself back against the wall.  Germanà also stood up in a moment, but quickly got back down."

"A good thing this was all a sham, the inspector thought.  Otherwise Tano could have cut them down like ninepins then and there.  Muttering some of the pithiest curses in his vast repertoire, Montalbano began to crawl around in search of the pistol that had slipped from his hand during the fall.  At last he spotted it under a touch-me-not bush, but as soon as he stuck his arm in there to retrieve it, all the little cucumbers burst and sprayed his face with seeds.  With a certain melancholy rage the inspector realized he's been demoted from gangster-film hero to a character in an Abbott and Costello movie.  No longer in the mood to play the athlete or dancer, he covered the last few yards between him and the house with a few quick steps, merely hunching forward a little."

Just prior to Tano's take-down, as it were, a call concerning the robbery of a local supermarket comes in but is somewhat dismissed as being not (comparatively) very important.  A van with the missing stock shows up abandoned, which seems to solve the crime easily enough until a few murders are thrown in for good measure.  All of a sudden what appears to have been a straightforward petty crime becomes darker and more complicated. 

Then a deathbed confession leads Montalbano to a cache of arms in a cave.  It's what's hidden deep in the cave and discovered after the solution to the robbery that makes up the really interesting part of this mystery.  I've noticed that with Italian crime writers (as with European authors, at least those whose work often gets translated into English) that this secondary crime reaches back in time all the way to the Second World War.  So Montalbano is presented with a very cold case, one that intrigues him (and the reader), and one for which he must find a solution for his own peace of mind (even if the culprit is most likely dead now).

I really enjoyed this story.  It's definitely one of the better crime stories I've picked up this year.  Although I've moved on to Lucretia Grindle's The Faces of Angels (set in Florence), I'm sorely tempted to grab the next Montalbano mystery, The Snack Thief, as well.  Oh, can you tell I've decided to keep on with my Summering in Italy reading project after all?  As I'm on a roll I  might as well stick with it.

You can find the full run down of Inspector Montalbano novels at Euro Crime.  Check out Maxine's take on the book here.  And I agree it's an excellent translation (complete with end notes) by Stephen Sartarelli.   

Library Loot: Spoiled for Choice

I try and write my posts the night before they appear online, so I am actually writing this on Wednesday night even though you won't be able to read it until later on Thursday.  Today in Omaha we had a lovely sweltering day.  The air temperature was 101 (38.3C), and while I know for some of you that is probably child's play I have to say the heat makes me wilt.  No wait, the heat makes me uncomfortable.  The dew point at 72, which makes the 'feels like' temperature of 110 (43.3C) makes me wilt.  I'm counting myself lucky (I think?) as the rest of the week will only be in the mid-90s (after today being the hottest day in six years!).  The weather is forecast to remain this way for the next week and a half.  It's just too early in the summer to have a heat wave.  I mean how are we going to top this later in July and early August?

So you'll have to forgive me for going for an easy post today.  I had planned to write about the Ethel Wilson book I recently finished (set in British Columbia, Canada--by a lake--which sounds pretty darn refreshing right now!), but I'm not sure I can concentrate very well.  I know I've already shared my sob story (and really I consider myself very lucky as there are people who don't have any air conditioning at all), but I live in an older house (built in the 1870s) that has two levels and high ceilings, and you know what hot air is like--it rises.  While I do have air conditioning, the upstairs is always toasty warm, and the room where I have my computer doesn't even have a duct which makes for a stifling hour spent typing.

Thank you for allowing me to whine, and now on to bookish business.  I've got a lovely pile of library books, which I've not yet shared, so here are a few highlights.  Already some of these have nearing due dates, so I have to prioritize (or continue returning library books late and paying the fines), but as usual they all look really good and I want to read each and every one of them.  

Jassy Mackenzie's Jade de Jong mysteries have been on my list to try for a while.  I think there are two or three books out already in the series, but I like to start at the beginning when I can, which is Random Violence.  The books are set in Johannesburg, South Africa.  This is a Soho Crime book, and they have a really great looking front and backlist of crime novels.

For some reason I thought Midnight in Peking by Paul French was a novel, but as it turns out it is nonfiction.  The book's subtitle reads How the Murder of a Young Englishwoman Haunted the Last Days of Old China.  If you click on the link you can see a book trailer, which is the author speaking about the crime and it sounds totally fascinating.  I'm definitely going to try and squeeze this one in.

I've heard many good things about Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein.  Although it is a YA novel I read it is quite sophisticated and easily would appeal to an adult audience.  It is a WWII story about a young woman who crashes in Occupied France and is caught by the Gestapo. 

Jean Zimmerman's The Orphan Master is set in 17th century New York (New Amsterdam as it was known then--or Lower Manhattan).  I've been in the mood for some good historical fiction, which is preferably set earlier than the 19th or early 20th centuries which seems to be where I spend my time these days.  This is a mystery of sorts as it concerns the murders of orphans in the Dutch colony, but there is also a little political intrigue involved as well.

I don't know how I happened upon Rupert Holmes's Swing, but it is another mystery set in San Francisco.  As hinted at by the title it is set during the big band era, and the book even came with a CD of music.  I think there are clues hidden in the music, which will make for an unusual read.  I'm looking forward to popping the CD into  my computer and listening.  The book seems to have gotten good reviews, too.

And the book that will likely be the next one I reach for (as soon as I finish The Chaperone)--S.J. Bolton's Dead Scared.  I've read all but one of Bolton's books, and she is a reliably entertaining writer.  Her stories are closer to gothic thrillers than traditional crime novels.  While the stories often stretch the imagination, they are fun reads and I look forward to each new book.  I was pleased that she is bringing back DC Lacey Flint and DI Mark Joesbury from her last book. 

As always I am spoiled for choice and starved for reading time, but I'll do my best to give the books a try and will certainly read a few of them.  Sorry for the uninspired photo, but we'll just blame it on the heat!

Stay cool and happy reading.

June 26: Book Notes (Bits and Bobs)

A new book in the mail.  A bedside pile of books from which I have a hard time choosing (and from which I am pretty much contented to spend long chunks of reading time with--any and all of them) and a holiday next week ( which means a day off from work--yay). 

Life is good!  And books make it even better as you can see.

I really love books.  Honestly, they make me feel all warm and fuzzy sometimes (pretty much all the time when I'm thinking about them).  What else can transport you away from life's daily drudgeries so completely?  Sometimes stories are simply comforting, other times a little silly but entertaining, occasionally a little scary, and once and a while so amazing that they take my breath away.  What would I do without books?  I still sometimes wonder what people who don't read do with all their time (okay, I'm sure they probably have plenty to keep them busy, but still...), and feel a little sorry for them as they are surely missing out on really good stuff.  I'm digressing, however--I have lots of bookish meanderings to cover. 

See what came in the mail for me yesterday from the Book Depository (not sure why this new title wasn't embargoed like so many other new books I want seem to be from them)?  The Complete Short Stories of Elizabeth Taylor with an introduction by her daughter Joanna Kingham.  Thank you Virago Modern Classics--not only for reissuing her work, but having the forethought to put all her stories into one volume--including some previously uncollected stories.  I can't wait to crack open this book.  I've been thinking a lot about short stories lately as I seem to be accumulating interesting-looking collections and anthologies, but so far haven't been able to do much about it.  I think I need to devote some serious reading time to them, though I'm not yet sure when or in what form that's going to take.

This week I need to concentrate on a few books as they have deadlines (of sorts) attached to them.  I have finally started reading Laura Moriarty's The Chaperone in earnest.  It was in line behind another library book that just went back (I'm falling behind in writing the recent books I've finished, but I hope to catch up soon).  Although I've been looking forward to reading it since I first added my name to the library list, I was a little apprehensive as it seems to be much talked about at the moment.  I was afraid to get my hopes up only to have my expectations dashed, but I shouldn't have worried.  I am thoroughly enjoying it.  I was reading it at the gym yesterday and had become so engrossed in the story that the time felt like it passed in just minutes.  I love stories you can get so wrapped up in that you lose track of time.

I am also hoping to make a good dent in Len Deighton's Bomber, which has gotten almost universally good reviews on Amazon.  It'll be discussed this Friday for Caroline's Literature and War Readalong, but I have a feeling I won't have finished it in time.  It's a chunky book that has for me started off a little slowly--the story is centered around one bombing raid in Germany.  There's lots of details about the weather and the sorts of planes and everything leading up to the actual raid.  I know Deighton is a well-known writer of thrillers/spy novels, but this has a very different feel to it.  I'm hoping that once I get properly into the story I won't want to set this book down either.

Of course I'm continuing on with John Steinbeck's East of Eden.  Have I mentioned lately how impressed I am with it?  (I do regularly to my coworkers).  I am and want to make sure I read at least a few chapters every day even though a few other books should really take precedence.  These three books are going to be my main companions this week, though I'm sure I'll be dipping into a few others as well--whichever happens to catch my fancy at the moment.

Eudora Welty's One Writer's Beginnings came home with me from work yesterday (it really was a good book day).  I think I'm going to like it--I've already started reading.  

"I learned from the age of two or three that any room in our house, at any time of day, was there to read in, or to be read to.  My other read to me.  She'd read to me in the big bedroom in the mornings, when we were in her rocker together, which ticked in rhythm as we rocked, as though we had a cricket accompanying the story.  She'd read to me in the dining room on winter afternoons in front of the coal fire, with our cuckoo clock ending the story with 'Cuckoo,' and at night when I'd got in my own bed.  I must have given her no peace.  Sometimes she read to me in the kitchen while she sat churning, and the churning sobbed along with any story.  It was my ambition to have her read to me while I churned; once she granted my wish, but she read off my story before I had brought her butter.  She was an expressive reader.  When she was reading 'Puss in Boots,' for instance, it was impossible not to know that she distrusted all cats." 

I love reading about other people's reading experiences--especially famous authors.

The Slaves of Golconda have chosen A.S. Byatt's Ragnarok for their next book to discuss (and I do plan on reading along this time--I've even already checked the book out from the library).  It is one of the books in the Canongate Myths series.  It's a retelling of a Norse Myth so only peripherally related to  my own reading of the Greek Myths, but it will make a good companion read.  Anyone who is interested is, of course, welcome to join in.  The discussion is set to begin July 31. 

My latest Postal Reading Group book came earlier in the month, so I'll need to pull it out in July and start reading before it needs to travel on to its next destination.  This is what I'll be reading.  I've read a couple of the author's other books and liked them (with a few small hesitations).  Each book arrives with a little journal where everyone writes their thoughts on the book when they finish reading.  This one seems to have gotten mixed reviews, but I'm going to keep an open mind as I read.   

The mystery I am reaching for most often is Lucretia Grindle's The Faces of Angels.  I'm not entirely sure what I think of it so far.  I'm enjoying it but it hasn't quite caught my full attention, if that makes sense.  But it's set in Florence, so what's not to like about that?  It is a contemporary crime/mystery story.  I was thinking today how much a cozy (Golden Age or mystery with a Golden Age feel to it) mystery would be at the moment.  I could pick up the next Miss Marple book, The Moving Finger (I was told this was a really good read, too!), or Nicola Upson's Angel with Two Faces (Upson has created a fiction Josephine Tey sleuth based on the real woman--another series which has gotten mixed reactions, but that hasn't put me off), or maybe a historical mystery would do the trick.  And preferably one with a much earlier setting than is my norm of late.  I was thinking maybe Susanna Gregory's A Plague on Both Your Houses, which has a 14th century Cambridge setting.  That might be going back just far enough, I think . . .

Then again maybe I won't cave into my bookish desires to start a new book and be happy with the books I'm reading.  I'm too fickle sometimes with books, so it could go either way!

Mythology: Cupid and Psyche

Things I'm discovering about Greek Myths.  It's not a good thing to be overly curious.  Almost always looking in boxes will end up nipping you in the posterior, so try and avoid doing so at all cost.  Women often get the short end of the stick (I don't believe men are not curious, too).  Don't piss off the gods, because they will make you pay, and pay in some wretched way.  And if you ever need to get past Cerberus (the three headed dog guarding the gates of the underworld), bring him a cake.  He's a pushover for cake and will let you pass.

All kidding aside, I liked the myth of Cupid and Psyche and must read the version by Apuleius, which is what Edith Hamilton bases her retelling on.  Hamilton says "it is a prettily told tale, after the manner of Ovid.  The writer is entertained by what he writes; he believes none of it."  Obviously it still makes for an entertaining story, and one that ultimately has a happy ending.

Psyche is the youngest daughter of a king and also the most beautiful of the three.  As a matter of fact her beauty rivals that of Venus, which of course annoys Venus.  Not only is everyone paying attention to Psyche but they're wasting their time on someone who will eventually die, unlike the gods who live forever.  She decides to take matters in hand and tells her son, Cupid (also known as Love), to make her fall in love with the vilest creature he can find.  What a vengeful goddess.  You know what's going to happen, though, right?  Cupid becomes enamored by Psyche himself.

However, instead of anyone falling for Psyche, let alone a detestable creature, no one did at all.  She looked on as her sisters were married, and her father the king started to get worried.  So he went to Apollo to ask his advice, which was to send Psyche off to the top of a mountain where she would be claimed by a husband.  This wasn't the good news it sounded like, as she was destined to attract "a fearful winged serpent stronger than the gods themselves".  The wind carries her off and she finds herself in front of a beautiful house in a peaceful meadow and it is all meant for her.  At night she's visited at night by the husband and lover she dreamed of. 

She's forbidden to look upon her husband, so she doesn't know who he is or what he looks for, but he warns her that trouble is coming her way in the form of her two (now very jealous) sisters.  Upset with Psyche because she wasn't forthcoming about her husband they tell her that there's a reason she can't see him--he is the serpent she was warned about.  Once again curiosity gets the better of poor Psyche.  When her husband is sleeping that night she takes a lamp and gazes upon him and discovers he is just as handsome as she had hoped. But she tips the candle accidentally and hot oil burns him.  He knows she didn't trust him and flees.

In order to win him back she braves going to Venus and begging her to reunite them.  Venus scorns Psyche but agrees to help her if she can complete a series of impossible tasks, like sorting the tiniest of tiny grains in a night, and fetching wool from a group of irascible sheep who won't let anyone near them.  Somehow (thanks to the pity of the tiny creatures of the field who lend her a hand) she completes the tasks.  Eventually immortality is granted to Psyche, which makes everyone happy, since then Venus can welcome her into the family and there won't be any question of Cupid marrying a lesser being.  Besides Psyche will be in heaven and out of Venus's hair, and then she can have the undivided attention of the rest of the men on earth once again.

So this is the watered down version of the myth.  It has inspired many an artist in their creations, and I am sure literature must be littered with retellings of the story as well.  Thanks to Stefanie for pointing out Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis.

Next week more tales of lovers.

The Optimist's Daughter by Eudora Welty

Thanks to Cornflower for the gentle nudge to finally pick up one of Eudora Welty's novels (I read one of her essays several years ago).  I took a peek at her discussion of The Optimist's Daughter yesterday and was pleased to see she was as impressed by the story as I was.  It's a thoughtfully penned story which is sparingly told but rich in its portrayal of a daughter's grief for the death of her father.  Welty reminds me a little of Willa Cather in that each creates characters that are so perceptive.  Not much may happen in the story but by the end there is a realization and understanding of the events that in this case leaves the main character forward looking.

The Optimist's Daughter was published in 1972 and written shortly after her mother's death in 1966.  Welty won a Pulitzer for it.  It sounds as though it was somewhat autobiographical, and reading her slightly later work, One Writer's Beginnings would be highly illuminating I suspect as she delves into her own relationship with her parents.  Those experiences informed her fiction writing, so it almost sounds as though it would be a blueprint of sorts (if that ever actually happens in literature) to understanding her work a little better.

At the beginning of the story Laurel McKelva Hand has arrived in New Orleans, where her father is preparing to undergo surgery for an eye complaint.  Her mother passed away several years prior also as a result of eye trouble, so Laurel is understandably shaken.  Laurel's husband died in WWII, but she remained in Chicago to work as a designer in the theater rather than returning home to Mount Salus, Mississippi.  Unaccountably her father has remarried a much younger woman, a typist, he met in his work as a judge.  Fay McKelva is vulgar and strident and not much liked by the people of Mount Salus, but she and the judge are seen out and about prior to his illness.  Fay's selfish and self-centered behavior only hurries the judge along to his death despite signs that he had been recovering well from the operation.

Both women accompany the judge back to Mount Salus for his burial.  Unsurprisingly there is friction between not only Fay and Laurel, but Fay and everyone else, too.  It was understood that Fay would have no mourners from her family until they all show up, and quite a cast of characters they are, too.  Becky, Laurel's mother and the judge's first wife, was much loved, and while her presence is palpable there is no looking back.  Fay is happy to remind everyone that she is the judge's wife now and things will go according to her wishes, and the sense is that she will destroy everything that Laurel once valued.  When Fay decides to go back to Texas with her family for a short visit, it gives Laurel a chance to reflect on her life and memories growing up before she returns to Chicago and her own life.

The Optimist's Daughter is my first book (I am told she is an exceptional short story writer, too) by Welty, and while I was impressed by her writing as I was reading, I admit that there is something, too, that seems a little impenetrable about her work.  Ambiguous is a better word, actually, as that is what one writer used when I was doing a little additional reading about the novel.  She makes use of  complex structure and symbolism, which I am sure I mostly missed (going as I normally do for "story" first). 

The short time Laurel is left alone in her childhood home, though still amongst her friends and neighbors gives her a chance to reflect on her parent's marriage, her role in their lives and what her decision to live apart and far away from them has meant.  Life is generally messy and how we remember events is rarely accurate, and as Laurel passes through the house discovering forgotten mementos of her mother and father's life she undergoes a series of revelations that will enable her to confidently pick up and move on with her life even as Fay will return and break everything in Mount Salus down. 

At this point I think I could easily pick up One Writer's Beginnings (which I might just do as my library has a copy on the shelves) and then go back and read The Optimist's Daughter a little more carefully and confidently.  As a side note, you might also know Welty was a WPA photographer (check out this Smithsonian article).  Now I plan on enjoying her Photographs and will perhaps share more about it later.  I was also given a copy of Moon Lake (thanks again, Cath), which is sitting atop my reading pile and I plan on tackling it on the upcoming Fourth of July holiday (it seems fitting that I spend the day reading American authors).  It's one in a series of books published by Penguin that contains one short story (or a long short story in this case) with the cool silver covers (wouldn't it be nice to have the whole set?  Hmm.).

Can anyone recommend other good books, short stories by her? 

Pink Hill Manor & Bookish Miscellanea

I've made a decision on which needlework project to concentrate on.  I've decided to stitch Blackbird Designs' "Pink Hill Manor" for the State Fair in August.  I had hoped to have a little more to share up front, but you can get an idea from (this very tiny) picture what the linen and colors look like and a small sense of what the design is like--I've got the first level of the house, part of the 'lawn' and most of one of the flower vases already finished.

This is the actual design, again.  It's not really very big and when stitched will only measure about 5" x 5".  Hopefully that is a manageable project to complete in a month.  I absolutely still want to keep working away on my Mystery Sampler, and may still try and stitch the little pin cushion as well.  I need to keep motivated, so you may see more updates here!

And for a little weekend bookishness . . . Do you think it's too soon to think about what books I'm going to take on vacation in August.  It's now officially less than two months away!  I am thinking of taking three books with me--one for the plane ride there, one coming back and one for the week I'll be in San Francisco.  I get all tingly just thinking about it.  As I'm sure my book  line-up will change numerous times between now and then I'll spare you details until I'm sure which books will make the cut.

As I'm hoping that June moves speedily along, I didn't quite realize just how speedy it was going.  I'm completely turned around.  I thought I had one more full week and full weekend after this one to finish books, but no, I don't.  July 1st is just over a week away, and so are a few bookish deadlines--library book due dates are very quickly approaching.  There are two books that I am well into that are due at the library on Monday and Tuesday (I fear more fines are going to be applied to my account), which are likely to be returned late now.  The money is going to a good cause, right?

I was planning on keeping July wide open for my own reading plans, but now I am going to be tempted to join in the reading for Paris in July.  I happened across a book purely by chance in my library yesterday.  The title on the spine caught my eye, so I pulled it out to look and ended up bringing it home with me.   I love the sound of Paris Metro Tales, which is a collection of short stories by various authors written at different times.  The stories are translated by Helen Constantine, who has also perhaps edited the collection?  There are twenty-two stories and twenty-two metro stops.  The stories take place both in the metro as well as above ground in the different French arrondissements.  There is even an index in the back with notes on the different metro stops with a little history and flavor of the locations.  It sounds like fun and I don't think I can pass it up.  Many of the stories are very short, so I was thinking if I could read just one or two stories a day I could easily join in--what serendipity, eh?

I know I said I was going to put my own little reading project, summering in Italy, on hold, but I enjoyed Andrea Camilleri's The Terra-Cotta Dog so much (post to follow next week), that I decided not only do I want to read more of Camilleri, but I want to read more Italian crime fiction.  So I have now started Lucretia Grindle's The Faces of Angels, which I think is going to be very good.  It is a Felony and Mayhem book.  One the back of their books they always list "who's likely to like this?" and for the Grindle they say fans of Ian McEwan and Daphne du Maurier (in my case check next to each author).  Grindle is actually an American author who splits her time between here and the UK, but the story is set in Florence.  I'm trying to read as many Italian authors as possible, but I'm happy for just an Italian setting as well.  So I've hopped from Sicily to Florence. 

One more bookish item.  The Miles Franklin Literary Award was announced, and Anna Fulder's All That I Am won.  It was already on my library list, but now I am even more eager to read it (eventually that is since I have plenty to keep me busy at the moment).

Happy weekend everyone (may we all get in lots of uninterrupted reading time--I know I am going to need it).

Julia by Otto de Kat

Otto de Kat's short novel, Julia, is an elegiac story about how a decision made in youth and perhaps out of fear or uncertainty can change the course of one's life and happiness irrevocably.  It's a sad thing to look back on your life from the vantage point of time and experience and feel that you've made the wrong choices, which is exactly how the reader first meets Christiaan Dudock.  Now in his 70s and reflecting on the decisions he made when he was a young man working and living in Germany just before WWII, he thinks there is nothing left to live for.

The story moves around in time from the present to just before the War and the years in between.  Chris is a Dutch man who in 1938 has come to Lübeck to gain experience working in a manufacturing company.  He's a mathematician by training but will eventually take over his own family's firm in Holland.  It's love at first sight when he spots Julia Bender in the factory.  She's an engineer with just one brother and no other family, though they are very close having shared a bohemian upbringing.  Perhaps it was her liberal childhood that widened her views, as her reaction towards the claustrophobic Nazi atmosphere in which she lives is one of repulsion. Neither she nor her brother can just sit back and watch or accept the madness but their outspokenness means they have drawn attention to themselves from the wrong people and must take care not to get caught.

After Andreas, Julia's brother, refuses to give the proper respect to a Nazi official who is sitting in the audience of one of his theater performances it's understood he is a Communist.  Andreas refuses to hide or deny his beliefs, and when the knock comes on his door, Julia has only moments to crawl through a window and disappear.  By this time Chris and Julia have become lovers, but now she must move from place to place in order to avoid detection and transportation to a work camp as well.

And then the night that changed so much for so many people comes, Kristallnacht.  It's obvious now what's going to happen in Germany, and it instills fear in Chris.  When Julia pleads with him to leave Lübeck and return home to safety, he's caught between loving Julia and not wanting to leave her yet not wanting to remain in Germany either and perhaps drawing unwanted attention to her.  She reasons with Chris, telling him that his staying will endanger her, so he gets on the next train back home where he will bitterly regret his decisions and only near the end of his life understand just what his leaving meant.

For a slender novel it raises many questions about responsibility as well as culpability and the choices we make in our youth--choices that can be life altering.  Should Chris have remained and what would have happened to the two lovers?  Chris returns home to a life of convention.  He does what is expected of him--marrying the woman he had been stepping out with, taking over the helm of his family's company and going through the motions of life, a life that somehow seems empty when all is said and done.

Julia had been recklessly honest and outspoken and decided to stay in the face of danger and fear, but she had remained true to herself.  Chris had walked away.

"She took her scalpel to the propaganda and the politics, dissected the German reign of power, laid bare the impotence of the self-respecting bourgeoisie, the feebleness of generals, the silence of the church--although she knew of a few exceptions in that quarter."

Maybe it is reading too much into the story to think of it as representing something larger and broader than just one man's decisions, but it seems as though it could perhaps be seen a morality tale in a way.  Chris spends so much of his life waiting for it to begin, waiting to discover what has happened to Julia, and he wonders if it all simply passed him by.

Julia proved to be a very moving story--slight in some ways, but powerful nonetheless.  The translation from Dutch by Ina Rilke felt pretty seamless.  Thanks to Iris for pointing me in its direction.  You can read her thoughts on the book here.  I was hoping to squeeze in another book before the end of June for Dutch Lit Month, but I'm  not sure now if I'll manage it.  I have Eline Vere on my nightstand and have started reading but I won't finish before the end of the month as it is a much longer book and a hefty copy to take with me to work every day, but I have liked what I read so far. 

Julia is published by MacLehose Press by the way.  Unfortunately it has not been published yet in the US, though you can get it as a Kindle book (pity there is no Nook version!).  I see that MacLehose Press is another small press focusing on publishing books in English translation, which is nice to hear.  I'll be checking out the rest of their backlist now. 

A Tuesday Mishmash

I'm trying to do a little housecleaning and have updated my commenting options.  I have noticed that many blogs are now set up to let comments thread around discussions, so I've done the same.  Now commenters can chat with each other and not just leave static comments at the end of the post.  (So feel free to chat amongst yourselves if you so desire!).  I've left off the comment verification, which I think can be both helpful and a nuisance.  Helpful to stop spammers but a nuisance for people who want to leave a comment but have problems doing so.  I know I need to revamp the look of things here, but I'm  not very good at change and well, I'm also lazy.  So, I'll keep thinking about it and maybe one day you'll drop in and find a new design in this space (though it's best to keep your expectations low for that one).

I don't know about those of you who also blog, but summer is definitely here in my corner of the blogosphere.  It's been very quiet and erratic in terms of visitors and comments left (which is for me the best part of blogging).  I've been at an all time low in terms of people stopping by, which I know is due to a couple of things. There is just too much going on at the moment with people going on vacation or just spending time outside doing other things.  I've also not been a very good visitor myself, which I do apologize for.  I read a lot via Google Reader (which I decided to stick with even though there is now a continual feed rather than being able to mark all posts read and make them disappear--I've gotten used to it), but then tend to run out of time when it comes to clicking out and leaving comments.  I know this happens to others, too, so try not to feel bad when I do it or it goes quiet here as I suspect others are encountering the same 'lack of enough time' problem.  I generally don't pay all that much attention to behind the scenes statistics, but lately when I do go check it has been sort of painful to see the decline in visits.   But this is my online journal and I shall keep treating it as such and am always appreciative for anyone who stops by and says hello and shares a bit of bookish chat and not worry so much about numbers.

I was going to do a Tuesday Teaser today, as I have started reading Karen Armstrong's A Short History of Myth (thanks to Buried in Print for the recommendation), but laziness and a desire not to bore everyone excessively about my mythology reading means I'll put that off for a little while.  I'll just say that it is fascinating reading if you are interested in learning more about myths.  She goes all the way back to the Paleolithic Period to talk about its origins, so this is going to be a perfect companion read.   Now I'm tempted to read the rest of the books in the Canongate Myths series.  By chance the most recent addition to the Myths list is A.S. Byatt's book Ragnarok, which also happens to be one of the choices on the Slaves voting list.  If you're inclined to read along, head on over and cast your vote for the book you would most like to read.  I plan on reading Ragnarok in any case (again the timing is right), and happily the library where I work has it in on hand.  Working in a library can be so convenient when it comes to reading projects.     

Speaking of which, I received a small box of books in the mail yesterday that I recently ordered and included was Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City, which the NYTBR calls "an extended love letter to a magical San Francisco".   I've already started reading and I can tell I am going to whip right through this one.  When it came out in 1978 I believe it was serialized.  Although I was still pretty young in the 70s I have a happy recollection of the life back then (probably exactly because I was so young!), so it is going to be fun reading, too.  So far it's very light and breezy and evocative of the time and city.  I've been reading up on the various neighborhoods of San Francisco and thinking of the places I want to go and things I want to do, so there is at least name recognition even if I don't actually "know" the city--yet.  I was just thinking I would read the first book in the series (there are six), but now I think I might at least get the second book, too, though I have lots of other books on my (possible) reading list.

I could go on about the books I'm reading, and how much I am enjoying John Steinbeck's East of Eden (pretty amazing story actually--finally a classic that I find I want to keep reaching for) or Andrea Camilleri's The Terra-Cotta Dog (I'm intrigued by Inspector Montalbano--he's a serious trip--some of the things he says and does crack me up), or about the books on the top of my 'next up' reading pile like Len Deighton's Bomber (which I am a little apprehensive about as the blurb describes the bombing run by a particular crew as being their "last"--though every review I've seen has been overwhelmingly positive, so I need to dive in and not worry already about the outcome of the story), but I guess I'll save those books for later posts. 

Happy reading everyone.

Mythology: The Earliest Heroes

I'm really enjoying my weekly instalments of Edith Hamilton's Mythology.  After all the background material she's finally getting into the actual stories themselves, though she is only retelling them and occasionally quoting directly from the poems or original sources.  It's an easy and painless introduction to Greek mythology (and the occasional nod to Roman writers as well).  This week I've been reading about some of the early heroes like Prometheus and Io, Europa, the Cyclops and flower myths (I had no idea, or recollection from my earlier reading anyway, that there was such a thing).

Prometheus was introduced last week in reference to the creation myths.  He created man from clay and gave them fire, which he stole from the gods.  Prometheus met Io on a mountain peak where he was tied up after angering the gods over the fire debacle.  Io was a lovely heifer and the two got to talking, sharing their stories.  If I say Io was a beautiful princess and then mention she had a run in with Zeus, and knowing Zeus's proclivities towards young maidens it'll be a giveaway just what happened to Io.  Hera happened to her of course.  In trying to keep his latest assignation a secret he turned Io into a cow, but Hera wouldn't be fooled and asked Zeus to give her the cow as a gift.  There was nothing for it but to hand her over.   

Hera wasn't about to let Zeus change her back to her maidenly form so she  got Argus, who had a hundred eyes, to watch over Io.  Having so many eyes Argus could keep at least some of them open and watchful even when he needed to sleep.  So Zeus gave the task of slaying Argus to his son Hermes.  In the guise of a country traveler playing sweet music Hermes approached Argus and began telling him stories until finally all the eyes fell closed when Hermes quickly dispatched him.  Not to be outdone, Hera took the eyes and put them on the tail of her favorite bird--the peacock.  I think that's rather brilliant of the Greeks personally.  I'll never look at a peacock in quite the same way again.  Poor Io, however, would spend much time wandering about.  She even has two seas named after her--the Ionian and the Bosphorus (which means "the Ford of the Cow").  No worries, Zeus turns her back to her original form eventually and and one of her descendants would be the great Hercules, which I am sure I'll be reading about later.

Europa, another princess, had better luck than Io, as Hera didn't seem to catch on that Zeus had her in his sights.  This time it's Zeus who changes his shape, into a bull, before approaching her in a field where she was picking wildflowers.  She sat down on his back and whisked her away to Crete.  Although fearful at first, when she realized who he was she agreeable enough and in the end bore him many sons, though it's her name that remains known to the world.

Although the Cyclops were fearful monsters in the creation myths, they became favorites of Zeus and were allowed to remain when all the others were wiped from the earth.  They inhabited an island where the famous Odysseus (Ulysses in Latin) came ashore after the Trojan War.  In need of food Odysseus and his men set off with wine to trade, but Polyphemus the Cyclops was in no mood for visitors.  Instead of offering them hospitality he barred their way out of his cave and began eating them.  It took a little ingenuity and a red hot poker in the eye for Odysseus and what remained his crew to escape, which they did tauntingly.  Over time the myth of Polyphemus was toned down and even showed him in a pleasing manner but the "lovelorn giant" never did manage to woo the beautiful nymph Galatea with whom he was in love.  I guess everyone has a chance at redemption, but not all stories have happy endings.

I like the flower myths, reading about Narcissus and Hyacinth.  Hamilton notes that flowers in such a rocky and dry terrain as Greece are not overlooked and that the earliest storytellers told many stories about wildflowers. 

"It was the most natural thing possible to connect them with the gods.  All things in heaven and earth were mysteriously linked with divine powers, but beautiful things most of all."

Of course Narcissus, who could never be convinced to pay any attention to the lovelorn maidens who fell in love with him was fated to only love himself and pined away as he looked at his reflection in the water.  A nymph named Echo was one of his victims of unrequited love.  In a case of mistaken identity Hera punished Echo by not allowing her ever to use her tongue--she could only repeat what others have said.  Although I knew Narcissus was a man, I wouldn't have thought that a Hyacinth would be male as well.  Hyacinth, a close companion of Apollo was struck in the head and by a discus and his blood spilled onto the grass which sprouted flowers.  Charming as the stories may be, they probably had much darker beginnings.  In years when the harvest was poor humans were probably sacrificed.  Since the earth provides human nourishment it's only fair that it would at times require its own nourishment as well.   How very Shirley Jackson, eh (careful, spoilers in case you're not familiar with the short story)?  Maybe she got her inspiration from the myths, too.

Next week is Cupid and Psyche, and perhaps I'll read on a bit for more myths of lovers.

Fly Away Peter by David Malouf

How often I find myself saying I likely would not have read, or even have come across, a book had it not been for another reader.  It's thanks to Stefanie that I read David Malouf's Fly Away Peter.  Malouf is an Australian author who has won a number of awards and been shortlisted for the Booker Prize, and after this introduction to his work I can see why.  Fly Away Peter is a slim understated novel (really just a novella) about WWI that manages to convey much in few pages, and it's the first novel I can recall reading about the war from an Australian perspective.  It was so beautifully written that I wanted to read it twice, but it had to be returned to the library before I had the chance to flip back again to the beginning of the book.

Fly Away Peter is an interesting and excellent addition to my WWI reading list, one with hidden depths that could easily be mined for deeper meaning.  Superficially it is similar to many of the other stories I've read--two friends heading off to war, the inclusion of class consciousness into the story (though only in a peripheral sort of way), battlefield scenes and the horrors and senselessness of war on both mankind and nature, yet there is still something about the book that felt different as well.  There is a beauty and simplicity to the story, too, which might at first seem at odds in a war story, but it really works here.

You'll have to forgive me if I get a few of the details wrong as I didn't make very good notes and I no longer have the book on hand in order to refer back--I'm working from memory unfortunately.  The story is split into two parts.  It opens in Australia with a young man, Jim Saddler, watching birds in a field.  Jim is an observer and knows just about everything there is to know about the birds that migrate to Queensland where he lives.  He knows what they look like and sound like and when they arrive each year.  He can name them all and is in awe of the beauty of the natural world of which he is part.  For him, this small corner of Australia is his entire world.

Ashley Crowther, having been away in England to be educated, has just arrived back home where he has inherited the plantation that Jim knows so much about.  The two become friends, yet each is still in his own sphere of being.  Ashley decides to turn the land into a wildlife reserve and hires Jim to manage it.  Their small circle is widened by elderly Imogen Harcourt, herself a migrant of sorts.  Originally from England she has made Queensland her home.  She is slightly eccentric, though not of the sort that causes talk among the town's residents.  Imogen is a nature photographer who Jim meets when they both happen to be watching the same sandpiper, a bird not native to Australia though well known to Imogen from being a common sight back home in England.

This small world that the three inhabit is a complete and happy one until the war comes.  Yet even then the war seems far away and remote.  At first Jim doesn't even realize what's happening or what might be expected of him and is perhaps a little confused by the speed with which so many other young men are enlisting in the war to fight.  It's only with resignation that he joins up as well. 

"The world Jim found himself in was unlike anything he had ever known or imagined.  It was as if he had taken a wrong turning in his sleep, arrived at the dark side of his head, and got stuck there."

Eventually Ashley follows, though the two cross paths only once or twice in France.  I read somewhere that this compact world of theirs was a sort of Eden or paradise and with the war it came to an abrupt end.

This is a story of loss (and what war story isn't), not only the literal loss of lives but also of innocence.  Maybe not just the innocence of youthful ideas but also of a nation.  So many young men went off to war with happy expectations and never returned.  Like Stefanie I was perplexed by the title of the book, but it makes sense since Jim studies the migratory patterns of the birds, which are so prominent in the story.  It's not just the birds who leave and then come back again or who may find themselves off course and in a strange world.  Tied into this is the perceptions of the two men as well as Imogen in terms of the sense of purpose for everything that is happening to them.

This is a story I'd like to revisit again someday.  I liked it so much that I had to find another book by him to read and settled on his first book, Johnno.  It is another story of friendship between two young men set in Brisbane, Australia.