A Work in Progress

Short Story 'Monday': The Ambush

While I am quite tempted to continue on with reading Tove Jansson (I have several of her other books including more short stories), I decided I was in the mood for stories that are in some way about domestic situations.  I had a pile of books to choose from (mostly Viragos to be honest), but in the end Elizabeth Taylor's The Blush called out to me.  I want to read everything she has written and I know I am always in good hands with her writing.  One story in and I think I have made a good choice.  Her writing is always superlative and she does 'domestic' very well--she writes about ordinary people leading ordinary lives in such a way that you never feel like average simply equals boring.

The collection includes twelve short stories and was published in 1958 (the Virago edition is from 1987).  In the introduction the editor calls Taylor's writing effortless (and it does seem to appear that way to me, too), yet he also says the short story form cannot accommodate effort, and "its finest practitioners are wary of cleverness".  He goes on to say that the stories in this collection are neither effortful or obviously clever which is how they retain their freshness for so long.  Indeed while the details do reflect the era somewhat, ultimately the emotions and motivations remain much the same today.

It isn't until the final paragraph that the meaning of the title "The Ambush" in the first story becomes clear, and then all the elements are tied nicely together giving it all a deeper meaning.  Catherine, a young woman and artist, has come to stay with Mrs. Ingram and her elder son, Esmé.  It has been a few weeks since the younger son, and Catherine's--not quite fiancé--significant other (to put it into today's terms) has been buried.  He died in a car accident.  In the weeks since the funeral Catherine has been stunned and jolted, unable to even open the drawer where Noël's letters sit.

She's met at the train station by Esmé, so very like his brother in looks yet another person entirely.  At home everyone treats her almost as an invalid to be touched not at all or with kid gloves.  But in the Ingram home Noël's mother speaks to her directly about his death and how Catherine is coping. 

"Strangeness and the physical beauty of the place overtook her.  She was under this roof again, bu the old reason for being there was gone.  Listening to the weir, lying in the flower-scented room, between the cool sheets (Mrs. Ingram's linen was glassier than anyone else's, she thought), she fell under the spell of the family again, although the one of it she loved was dead.  Missing him, it was in this place she wanted to be, no other."

What's so interesting about this story is the interplay between characters and their relationships with each other.  Esmé has, it is revealed, always been Mrs. Ingram's favorite, and she would love for him to stay in England, but he spends most of his time abroad living the expatriate life.  Mrs. Ingram seems to be trying to push Catherine and he together in hopes of perhaps keeping him closer to home, though it's not Esmé Catherine wants to be with (and there seems to be nothing in his attitude that seems as if he has fallen for her either).  For Catherine, there is something enchanting about the life the Ingrams lead in this home so close to the weir.  It's not Esmé she is attracted to but she would like to be the daughter-in-law and remain under this 'enchantment'.

In the space of just two dozen pages Elizabeth Taylor drops the reader into this situation, already in progress so to speak, and moves them along to a realization of their feelings and manages to 'grow them' to an understanding and acceptance.  There is nothing particular earth shattering or a twist at the end to cause surprise over than a feeling of having arrived at a destination that is comfortable. 

It feels good to settle in so quickly with a collection of short stories and a happy anticipation of what is coming next.  I might well try and read two stories a week just because I am eager to read her writing.  Next weekend is the titular story, "The Blush".  Curiously, I feel like Catherine to be under her 'enchantment'.

I've even managed to read this week's (February 29) New Yorker story (I have two month's worth of catching up to do now) by Luke Mogelson, "Total Solar" which is about as far as you can get from domesticity as it is set in modern day-war torn Kabul.  There is a very dreamy quality to the story, a feeling of unreality in the horrors of what is reality for the people who live there.  It is a reporter who tells this story of a bomb attack.  One minute he is interviewing someone and the next is a total disorientation of what is happening, one minute he is talking to someone and the next they are dead.  It's especially curious since it's hard to tell if the narrator is only being affected by the attack, of if it's simply his personality coming through despite the situation.  It this gives you a hint of his personality (actually I kind of relate to him in this case) when he describes a 'naked in a dream" dream where the embarrassment is not the nakedness but the fact that he managed to get himself into that situation in the first place.  You can read the New Yorker's Q&A with Mogelson here.  His first book of short stories will be published in April.

More End of the Week Miscellanea

I have a few more books to write about, but as last night was yoga night and I never get in much computer time on those nights (and that is a good thing in my opinion--everyone needs away time from the computer), just some random (mostly) bookish miscellanea to start the weekend with.

Can I say again (or maybe I haven't here?) how much I love my yoga class?  I look forward to it from the minute I start work on Monday mornings.  It feels like Thursday night is so far away, but then it is really the perfect time since not only is the work week nearly over, but by Thursday I am in need of a little mental and physical mindfulness.

This year is sort of a milestone year for me in the birthday department and I was thinking I really deserve a treat of some kind.  A good treat, more than just a special book.  A friend mentioned she was thinking she might try and find a yoga retreat to attend and I like that idea.  That would be the perfect way to celebrate the year.  If anyone has done anything like that, please do tell me about it as I will be on the look out for something affordable and manageable (for someone more or less on a budget).

I've started listening to and visiting the website of On Being, hosted by Krista Tippett (who has also written books, I shall soon be acquiring) as it is a program that my yoga instructor has referred to.  It is filled with all sorts of good things and I heartily recommend it.  The latest show (she interviews a variety of people) is an interview with Robin Wall Kimmerer who is a bryologist and talks about mosses and strange as it sounds, she makes them sound so incredibly interesting that I am going to do a little research this weekend and see if I can find a book about them. 

Now some odds and ends that I took note of this week (I think I might get too many bookish emails and alerts, or is that possible?).

I would love this Excellent Women mug that Virago created.  I'm not a mom, but I could give one to my mom for Mother's Day (and maybe get one for me, too).

This is a list for me.  It's not that I think I don't like science fiction, but I never seem to reach for it.  I have read a couple of books on this list and it might be worth investigating the others, too.

So, I've sort of discovered Instagram.  Should I sign up for it, or will it be a huge time suck and I already don't  have enough time.  It have found some really interesting things on it, however, (via Twitter, which is also really addictive and I try and ration my visits).

I'm always curious about new books others are excited about, and here are twenty-three more!  I'm most interested in the book at the top of the list by a new-to-me Israeli author, and it is even short stories!  Which reminds me I really do need to pick up another of my unread books.

Here's an aside . . .  I still miss my cats and wish I had one now.  This makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

Check out these bookish ice sculptures!  I especially like the nod in Tove Jansson's direction with the Moomins at the end of the list!

I really liked Jojo Moyes's novel Me Before You when I read it a couple of years ago.  And now it has been adapted to the big screen and while the actors playing the roles are not quite what I had in mind (not sure what I had in mind to be honest) I am very much looking forward to seeing the movie this summer!  You can see the trailer here.  I sobbed at the end of the book, I can only imagine what will happen when I see the movie.  And I have yet to read the sequel, but now I think I might have to add it to my already-too-long list of books I want to read sooner than later.

And speaking of film adaptations, next month is a TV version of Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None, which was a great read.  I wonder how the film will compare.  You can see the trailer here.  It looks rather scary to me!

Filmmakers seem to rely heavily on books for their subject matter, but there seems to be an inordinately large number of forthcoming movies based on books, have you noticed?  There are a number I would like to see (must read books quickly--I hate watching a movie adaptation first and then reading the book later).

Oh, one more.  I have never read J.G. Ballard, but I plan to now (I do have his Empire of the Sun).  Isn't this a great cover design, and I usually don't like movie tie-in versions of books.  Another movie to add to the list that I want to see this year.  And, another book to read first.

The Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction longlist was just announced, so of course I have to investigate the contenders for the prize.  I already have two on my own reading piles (the Boyd and the Quinn) and a few others look quite promising at first glance.

I cheated and looked (there is always an ad in the NYRB) and the March book for my NYRB Classics subscription is going to be (as hoped for by me!) one of the forthcoming novels by Patrick Modiano (hooray), In the Café of Lost Youth.  I have finished reading (and will hopefully tell you about it next week) the January book, and am now reading February.  I am hoping I might be able to finish it before March arrives and fingers crossed March actually will arrive!

It's forecast to be a really lovely, mild weekend here and I hope the weather will cooperate where you are, too.  I will be going to see this this weekend, and will spend a few hours in the museum.  Whatever time left over will hopefully be filled with reading/finishing a couple of books and the usual short story reading, too.  Time to start a new short story collection.

And I will end on a 'duck-ish' note.  I so want one of these!

Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin

I've hinted at how much I loved reading Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin.  If you've not read it yet, or read him--and I now want to read everything he's written--how can I convey to you how much I think you might appreciate him, too?  He wrote so simply yet so eloquently and so very assuredly, too.  This is a man who must surely have known what it feels like to be so very conflicted about his sexuality.  What it means to know a truth yet not want to believe it.  To know even as you are hurting someone you love, how they can see inside you for what you are, even while you ignore it all.  They trust you and love you despite your shortcomings.  This is a beautiful yet tragic story and to write about it now lets me relive it just a little bit, which is a pleasure even knowing was a somewhat painful read.  

The blurb calls this a "controversial story of death and passion that reveals the unspoken complexities of the human heart", which sums it up very nicely.  And when talking about the human heart and the hidden passions and desires and the hurts involved, it is indeed complex, isn't it?  Once burned, twice shy and how easy is it to not want to risk everything.  How do you open yourself up to someone else?  How do you put your heart on the line.  And not just your heart but maybe your reputation even.  And taking it a step further, the book was written in 1956, and Baldwin's characters are trying to navigate a world not yet having experienced the sexual revolution.  The angst and uncertainties in this book are not literal so much as the fear of being unmasked as something not quite acceptable or perhaps even normal.

David, an American, narrates this story.  He is a master at subterfuge, I think.  He is more real with Giovanni than anyone else, yet he tries to be someone he really isn't.  We're all good at lying to ourselves--some better than others perhaps, or more honest.  But I am not sure he knows exactly what he really wants.  He has come to Paris to get away from his father and his life and to 'find himself'.

"Perhaps, as we say in America, I wanted to find myself.  This is an interesting phrase, not current as far as I know in the language of any other people, which certainly does not mean what it says but betrays a nagging suspicion that something has been misplaced.  I think now that if I had had any intimation that the self I was going to find would turn out to be only the same self from which I had spent so much in flight, I would have stayed at home.  But again, I think I knew, at the very bottom of my heart, exactly what I was doing when I took the boat for France."

He is telling us this story from the 'after' as he waits for the awful thing to happen to Giovanni, which is hinted at all through the story and finally revealed at the end.  Something awful happens that Giovanni does, though not at the behest of David, for David rather or because of David.  He does it out of desperation from what David does, or fails to do, for him. 

Giovanni is a pretty transparent character.  He may not come out and say what he is or what he wants, but it's obvious.  He lays bare his soul to David, and I think David knows he is more real with Giovanni (in a sense anyway) than with anyone else.  Anyone except himself, that is.  And Hella, his girlfriend/fiancé from home who is vacationing alone in Spain.  When at home, and as a youth, David had an experience with another young man that was both exhilarating and horrifying. 

"People who believe that they are strong-willed and the masters of their destiny can only continue to believe this by becoming specialists in self-deception.  Their decisions are not really decisions at all--a real decision makes one humble, one knows that it is at the mercy of more things than can be named--but elaborate systems of evasion, of illusion, designed to make themselves and the world appear to be what they are and the world are not.  This is certainly what my decision, made so long ago in Joey's bed, came to."

His experience with Joey was confusing and disconcerting.  So much so that he began a relationship with Hella, though he finds himself in a gay bar with a gay man in Paris where he first meets Giovanni.  Giovanni has left his native Italy after a rather sad episode in his former life.  They click and soon David is staying with Giovanni in his room.  This room will be both a place of happiness and a prison.  Giovanni is his truest self with David, whereas even as David tries to be most candid finds himself holding things back, like his engagement with Hella.  

Giovanni is not an innocent yet he seems so very genuine and open.  He falls irrevocably in love with David.  "Each day he invited me to witness how he had changed, how love had changed him, how he worked and sang and cherished me.  I was in a terrible confusion."  It's hard to blame David.  It's not always easy loving someone and imagine in 1950 how confusing it can be to love the wrong someone especially when that someone loves so thoroughly and without inhibitions.   When David finally tells Giovanni about Hella, a wedge is driven between the two.  David feels pressure from Hella and from his father from whom David must continually beg money.

When David finally tells Giovanni about Hella, their world begins to collapse.  Everything that is unspoken between them begins to weighs heavily.  Giovanni's face brings to him not only the deepest love, but David feels, too, the deepest loathing.  Perhaps not for who or what he is but what he signifies for David, for what David is, or cannot be.  The room, once such a place of comfort now closes in and becomes a most hated space, too small and too confining.  A symbol for everything he doesn't want to accept about himself.  Whatever David pretended at being, Giovanni has stripped away and David cannot face it.  And so David begins feeling a revulsion not only for the room but for Giovanni, but of course, the revulsion isn't really for Giovanni but for himself. 

And Giovanni knows it.  He tells David that he, David, may never have lied to him, but he also never told the truth. 

"I wanted to be inside again, with the light and safety, with my manhood unquestioned, watching my woman put my children to bed.  I wanted the same bed at night and the same arms and I wanted to rise in the morning, knowing where I was.  I wanted a woman to be for me a steady ground, like the earth itself, where I could always be renewed."

This is a story of a loss of innocence, since David may be free of the physical room that confined he and Giovanni, but that room will always be in his mind.  I wonder if after all, David would be able to find that light and safety?

This is a devastating story, but this is also the sort of story which reminds me of why I love to read.

Five Old, Five New, Five Forthcoming #2

I was going to share a new/forthcoming books list today (seeing as I am actively adding to my wishlist almost every day it seems), but when I sat down at the computer to start, I decided I wasn't much in the mood for another book list.  So, I thought I would play a little game instead.  Or my variation of a book list that is sort of a mental game anyway.  I did this before, though I must admit I have not read a single book from that post.  It is a mental game after all, or at least that's my excuse.  I have bought two of the 'forthcoming' books from that post, however.  And curiously when I was looking at my stacks considering which I would choose, two of the books and an additional same author almost made it to this post, which just goes to show I really do want to read all those books (and these books, too).  Time is always my problem.  Too bad you can't grow time, or I would plant a nice big crop of it.

So, this is the game.  If I was going to choose a new book to read (or, three as the case is here) from my newest books, my older-sitting-on-the-piles-too-long books, and those eagerly awaited forthcoming books, these are the books I would choose from.  Ask me in a week I will likely pick other books.  But then you never know, a year later and I am still reaching for the same books.  That is surely a sign I need to actually not fantasize on this and just pick the books up, open the cover and start!

First the older books.  Some have been on my shelves for years and years and a few are slightly more recent acquisitions--at least a year on hand though in most cases longer than that.  I am actually planning on reading Caro Fraser's The Pupil soon.  It is a little mental trade-off I made with myself for sticking out one in progress book I am struggling with, and this will be the reward.  I know it sounds weird, but we'll just call it mental-reading diplomacy.  Fraser wrote eight of these Caper Court books and I read one of the later books several years ago and decided I had to go back and start from the beginning.  Well, as with so much in life, better late than never.  The series follows a young barrister from his days as a student through his career.  It is "a delectable blend of sec, law, and politics."

I don't think I read a single book by Mary Stewart last year, so it is certainly time for another and I have several unread books by her on hand.  Maybe another novel set in Greece?  The Moon-Spinners was published in 1963 and is set on Crete--a usual blend of romance and mystery. 

I guess I am in the mood for a bit of romance and escapism.  Rachel Hore has been recommended to me on a number of occasions.  The Silent Tide is a duel narrative story set in the present day and 1948, both stories take place in London, and the present-day story is set in a publishing house. 

I cannot tell you how many times I have reached for Clare Clark's Beautiful Lies.  I have read one of her earlier books and think I have at least two more on my shelves.  I need at least one good novel set in Victorian England and this might just be it.  It is supposedly "steeped in the rich detail of the period." 

And I really like Dawn Tripp's novels.  I have read most of them and see she has a book out about Georgia O'Keefe.  I have some catching up to do and must read Game of Secrets first.  A few teasers from the reviews--"a hypnotic literary mystery", "a mesmerizing novel about infatuation, enduring secrets, and our relentless quest to make amends", and it is "at once a beautiful, old-fashioned love story and a heart-stopping literary thriller."

And now five new books that I have only recently bought.  Storms of War by Kate Williams is the 'oldest' of the group and the one that I put on my beginning of the year list to read.  (See, I am still keeping those plans in mind!).  It is a WWI novel and possibly (if I am remembering correctly) the first of a projected trilogy of books.

Do you know I have never read any of Natasha Solomons's books, though I think I own nearly all of them?  I am going to rectify that this year.  The Song of Hartgrove Hall is her newest set in post-WWII England and involves a romantic triangle.  I seem to recall reading a review by a fellow blogger who mentioned Solomons has come into her own with this one, so a perfect place to start I think.

Had to, had to, had to have this one!  Anna Hope's The Ballroom. Zero self-control when I spot a book I like the sound of.  "A tale of unlikely love, of madness and sanity, and of who gets to decide which is which."  This is my most recent new book, which just came in the mail earlier this week.  It is the newest so maybe I should start here.

I kept seeing Lauren Groff's Fates and Furies everywhere and so used a coupon and gift card to buy it.  It is a portrait of an "extraordinary couple" over the course of twenty-four years.  I wonder if it will make it on the forthcoming Orange/Baileys Prize list? 

And art and fiction.  I keep meaning to read something art-oriented--fiction or nonfiction.  I like the sound of B.A. Shapiro's The Muralist--"entwining the lives of both historical and fictional characters, and moving between the past and the present, The Muralist plunges readers into the divisiveness of prewar politics and the largely forgotten plight of European refugees refused entrance to the United States.  It captures both the inner workings of New York's art scene and the beginnings of the vibrant and quintessentially American school of Abstract Expressionism.

******

And how to choose just five new books that are yet to be released but which I am eagerly awaiting? 

A new mystery series to follow!  Brighton Belle by Sara Sheridan -- "In post-World War II England, former Secret Service operative Mirabelle Bevan becomes embroiled in a new kind of intrigue…"

More mystery, and this one just sounds like great fun, The Bachelor Girl's Guide to Murder by Rachel McMillan -- "In 1910 Toronto, while other bachelor girls perfect their domestic skills and find husbands, two friends perfect their sleuthing skills and find a murderer.  Inspired by their fascination with all things Sherlock Holmes, best friends and flatmates Merinda and Jem launch a consulting detective business. The deaths of young Irish women lead Merinda and Jem deeper into the mire of the city's underbelly, where the high hopes of those dreaming to make a new life in Canada are met with prejudice and squalor."

The Muse by Jessie Burton -- "From the bestselling author of The Miniaturist comes a captivating and brilliantly realized story of two young women—a Caribbean immigrant in 1960s London and a bohemian woman in 1930s Spain—and the powerful mystery that links them together."

Exposure by Helen Dunmore.  Finally a new book by an author who I have read before and enjoyed (and not one of many whose books I only seem to be forever collecting).  "It’s London, 1960. The Cold War is at its height, and a spy may be a friend or neighbor, colleague or lover. Two colleagues, Giles Holloway and Simon Callington, face a terrible dilemma over a missing top-secret file. At the end of a suburban garden, in the pouring rain, Simon’s wife, Lily, buries a briefcase containing the file deep in the earth. She believes that in doing so she is protecting her family. What she will learn is that no one is immune from betrayal or the devastating consequences of exposure."

Another novel set in Jerusalem (instead of an author I am collecting, I seem to also collect stories set in particular places), City of Secrets by Stewart O'Nan.  "In 1945, with no homes to return to, Jewish refugees by the tens of thousands set out for Palestine. Those who made it were hunted as illegals by the British mandatory authorities there and relied on the underground to shelter them; taking fake names, they blended with the population, joining the wildly different factions fighting for the independence of Israel. City of Secrets follows one survivor, Brand, as he tries to regain himself after losing everyone he's ever loved."

Plenty to choose from and I am going to choose one now, so when I decide to repeat this post sometime in the future and look back I won't be disappointed by my excitement and then subsequent failure to have made a dent in the piles by reading a few of them.

Feel free to play along, though maybe on a more abbreviated level--one old book, one new one and one you are looking forward to reading later in the year.

A Little Snow and a Big Pile of Books

I do hope I am not completely boring you with weekly views of my needlework progress.  I must say it helps me keep picking up my project and adding to it when I know I will share a weekly photo.  And I like having something new to share each week.  I thought I might get the snowman started at least, but I found it was easier to have the border finished and work from the bottom up rather than the top down (the redbird hanging there will actually be sitting on top of the snowman). 

And the snow, a row of snow, is now underway.  I am not fond of stitching snow.  It's not so much the idea of stitching snow as just working with white cotton thread.  It bothers me to see messy stitches on my work, but you can hide an awful lot with most floss.  With white, however, threads that are not lying side by side show up very well.  Twisted threads are not very pretty, and while no one else probably even notices, I can spot messy stitching.  White floss with twisted strands just seems to glare out at me.  So I put it off until last.  And here I am, not the last thing I am stitching, but I can't avoid it now.  The idea of beginning to work on the spring design is really motivating me, so I hope to have lots to share next week.

And a weekly book photo.  Here is the state of the night stand piles.  I have actually finished several books, but a new one (or two and sometimes three) always seems to sprout up and take the finished book's place.  They are so persuasive, those books sitting and waiting to be read.  I've tried to mentally prioritize, so I am hoping to finish three or perhaps four more (all but one is in the last 100 pages of being finished) before the end of the month.  It might be an optimistic plan, but you never know.  And a whole extra day to add a few more reading hours.  I think March is going to be all about cleaning up, and whittling down, though I do hope to add an Irish author or book set in Ireland to the mix in honor of St. Patrick's Day (any excuse t start a new book, eh?).

Maybe it is time to plan a day off from work?  I could use a little extra reading time as you can see.

Short Story (Monday): Tove Jansson

Well, I am a Tove Jansson convert.  Actually I knew I liked her when I first read her a few years ago.  Now I am 'collecting' her and have a couple of books coming my way in the mail and so will hopefully be reading much more of her soon.  I have never read any of her children's books, the Moomin stories, so I will have to track down one or two to get a full taste of her work.  There is also an interesting biography of her out, but as it is only in hardcover I will have to watch for a coupon or use one of my gift cards as a splurge.

I've finished the last of the stories in Travelling Light and thoroughly enjoyed the collection.  She is a fantastic story writer and each was a little gem of storytelling, though I admit I enjoyed some more than others.  I always put this down to taste and of reading circumstance.  It isn't that a few of the stories were poorly done, but there were a couple that just didn't quite click.  As I am ready to move on to a new collection of stories, I thought I'd wrap up the last here in one post rather than draw writing about them out over the next month or so.

"The Forest" is a very short story that is both disconcerting and a little perplexing.  It's the last sentence or so that has me wondering.  Two young boys, brothers, are sent to the country on their summer vacation with a child minder who mostly just wants the boys to entertain themselves outside--'go and play' she tells them.  Life becomes a little more colorful and adventurous when their mother sends them several of the Tarzan books.  They are both entertaining and full of escapism.  The two play in the forest by their vacation home.  It is so big it is that if you went looking for berries you might get lost and not find your way home.  Maybe this is meant to be a cautionary tale?  What happens when the pages of a book take on a visceral reality and the forest becomes a sort of jungle and you really are Tarzan?  When one boy says, 'we never killed anything smaller than us', well, that sets a tone, don't you think?

"The PE Teacher's Death" is about what happens when a death and a dinner party collide.  The death is by suicide and the teacher's action impinges on the diners' conversation as they try and figure out just why he did it.  The curious thing is his life seems more meaningful than the lives of those sitting around the table.  Or at least his desire to make sense of life and how well to live it.

Perhaps the most devastating and memorable story of this batch for me is "The Gulls" which is a small masterpiece of precision and understatement.  Jansson packs quite a wallop at the end of it.  Elsa and Arne set off to to the childhood island where Elsa spent happy summers when young.  Arne is frazzled and needs rest and quiet.  No work, no telephone and they'll hardly even open their books to read.  When Arne asks what they'll do with their time, Elsa replies they can play with the birds.  It all proves to be too much for Arne.  The birds are loud and flock to the island where they become territorial and angry.  Elsa is happy and finds it all as welcome as in her childhood down to remembering one of the birds that returns each year to eat out of her hand, but Arne seems pushed to his limit.  Sometimes our emotions and unsettled feelings make us lose control--anger seething and then erupting.  This is quite a story (without giving too much away), in the end there are no happy winners.

Another wonderful story is "The Hothouse" which is a portrayal of what a friendship means.  It occurs between two unlikely men, older and curmudgeonly who both enjoy sitting on the same bench in a hothouse looking over a lily pond.  Of course the initial problem is that each is disappointed when the other is already there--taking up 'his space'.  The relationship between the two men begins grimly and with few words.  One man is a reader and reflects on the words and the other is an observer and wants quiet reflection.  They don't often agree but somehow their experiences bring them together and in the end what matters is not that they convince the other of something, but only that each listens and understands.  A pity more people can't come to that same realization.

The last story almost doesn't fee like a story.  I had to do a double take as "Correspondence" is literally a correspondence. A fictionalized one, however.  I thought initially it was real, but this is another creation of Jansson's.  A young Japanese girl admires Tove's writing so much she writes her letters which the author answers thinking a simple reply is only a simple reply.  It is a reminder that fan is short for fanatic and even from a afar admiration might grow to something more and something more unwelcome.

Tove Jansson has such a unique voice.  I loved her writing and these stories.  The underlying theme or some variation on it, is indeed the idea of traveling light--sometimes easier said than done and not always traveling in a bodily, physical sense, but emotionally or psychologically.  Sometimes traveling light is a detriment and sometimes it is a journey best not taken.  I especially love the feeling of 'foreignness' to these stories, which is not necessarily something that, I believe, she set out to imply, but by virtue of who she is, the fact she is writing in another language and simply that her view is so very different than my own.  These stories really do feel like they take place somewhere far away, even if the underlying themes are universal.  The fact that Jansson lived in a country dotted with islands comes out very strongly in this collection. 

A perfect book to kick off my short story reading this year.  I think I will move on to John Updike next.  Check back next weekend, if you're curious.  And as always, feel free to share any recent short story reading experiences you have had, too!

Weekend Reading Notes

Ahh, the weekend is finally here.  You have no idea how beautiful it is outside today (just so you don't think I am endlessly complaining about the weather).  It gives me hope that we've turned the corner on winter finally.  Of course we can still have cold, blustery days and dare I jinx myself by saying even snow in the next couple of months, but at this point, even if we do, it won't last long. 

It is going to be another busy weekend, but I hope to fit in whatever reading I can manage in all those nooks and crannies.  I hope to finish Paul Kalanithi's When Breath Becomes Air, which is so beautifully elegant and eloquent that I cannot put it down.  Yet, it does bring tears to my eyes sometimes and I suspect the latter half might make for some emotional reading.  Yet it gives me hope to think there are such thoughtful people out there who are in the caring professions. 

I will be continuing on with Antonia White's Beyond the Glass.  Am still enjoying it immensely yet things have gotten kind of strange with Clara.  She's going through a divorce (an annulment in the Catholic Church if that tells you anything) and has met someone she cares for, yet she is acting really strange.  I wonder if the stress of everything she has gone through (and for such a young woman, she has gone through a lot) is beginning to wear on her and she is perhaps having a breakdown?  Maybe I will find out this weekend.  If I stick to my mental schedule--I should finish by the end of next week as I want to squeeze the book in still this month.

I now have both my NYRB subscription books, for January AND February, in my hot little hands and so it is to work with those.  Both are good and very different from each other!  I am hoping that I can get them both read (maybe?) before the March book arrives and will then be on track.  And I am really want the March book to be one by Patrick Modiano that is forthcoming.

Amidst all my wishes for finishing a few books, I have also started a new mystery since I finished reading the latest Quirke novel.  I tend to be really haphazard with my mystery reading--going from author to author and sleuth to sleuth, but I was thinking this year I  might give just a few authors more attention and perhaps 'catch up' a little with one or two of the (very, very many) series that I follow.  So, onwards with Mary Russell who I like more and more (and I have already told you how she has practically displaced Maisie as my favorite--though no worries I have room for plenty of favorites).  I have just started the seventh (!--moving right along) Mary Russell, Sherlock Holmes mystery, The Game.  This time the pair are off to India!  I'll tell you more about their adventures but they are, at the moment, on board a ship bound for Port Said.  I have a little teaser to share.  This is why I love these books.  Aside from Mary being such a delightful character, with her wry sense of humor and razor sharp intellect (to say nothing of her ability to throw a sharp knife and hit her target spot on), the atmosphere in these books is wonderful.  It is loads of adventure and a good laugh all rolled up in one.

Mary's observations of the ship and how much it mimics society ca. 1924.

"In many ways it was a duplicate of the society we had left behind: the aristocracy of First Class on the upper decks, the peasantry of enlisted men, clerks, and their families under our feet, with the true laboring classes either tidily concealed beneath P. & O. uniforms or else thoroughly hidden away in the bowels of the ship.  Rigid social custom swayed not a millimeter in the dining rooms: One never spoke to a neighbor at a table if one had not been introduced, and since there were few mutual acquaintances to proffer the necessary introductions, conversation was largely nonexistent.  Holmes and I attended few of the dining room meals."

"Other areas of the boat were less severely bound by the strictures of human intercourse.  In the exercise room, for example, it proved difficult to maintain a dignified formality with the woman at the next stationary bicycle when both of you were sweating and panting and going nowhere.  And because of the limited population in our floating village, group events such as card games, mah-jongg, or table tennis tended to require a certain loosening of rules in order to maintain a pool of players, which broke the ice sufficiently to permit one nod to one's fellow player when one came upon him or her perambulating the deck the following morning."

I had no idea there was such a thing as a stationary bike in 1924.  I can imagine Mary partaking of a little exercise, but I can imagine more her sitting with a pile of books at her side, which is the case here.  She goes on to meet a young American "Flapper" who I suspect is going to draw Mary into socializing she would prefer to avoid.  Their exchanges so far have been very amusing. 

I shall be sneaking on a few pages of this here and there this weekend, too.  I hope you have something entertaining at hand to give a little diversion as well!

Even the Dead by Benjamin Black

I'm nothing if not tidy when it comes to reading a mystery that is part of a series.  It always throws me off just a little to read the books out of order or jump into a series midway.  It's not so much that I mind not knowing some aspect of the crime or its solution of previous books (especially considering how quickly these details fade from mind as soon as I close a book), but it's the idea that I might be missing some central piece of knowledge or important development of the characters and how they interact with each other that bothers me.  So, strange as it sounds there was a certain symmetry to reading Benjamin Black's Even the Dead, the seventh Quirke novel, when I had only read the first so many years ago.  First and seventh.  There is a circuitous track to follow, I suspect, in those books in between.  Interestingly Quirke and his latest foray into murder seems to have come full circle since the days of Christine Falls.

I really liked Quirke, and his very noirish Dublin when I first met him, and only recently had been thinking it was time to get back there and start catching up.  When Henry Holt offered me a galley copy of Black's most recent novel, I hesitated only a moment before giving into temptation.  (How appropriate considering the setting and period-1950s Dublin and the fact that temptations seem to be a problem for some of the characters in this very Catholic country). 

In case you're not familiar with Benjamin Black's Quirke (Black being the penname for John Banville), he's not a detective and these books (the two I've read now anyway) are not your typical police procedurals.  Quirke is a pathologist with an interesting and perhaps checkered past.  He gets drawn into murder investigations via the nature of his work--autopsying bodies that end up in his laboratory.  Dublin of that era has a distinctly tarnished and dark side.  Hyper morality collides against more sinister and secretive deeds.  Quirke is pretty irascible, though in this book he seems somewhat toned down.  In the opening pages he has been out of work recuperating from some illness or accident.  He's taking it easy and staying away from the bottle so to speak. 

Two things, seemingly unrelated initially, happen that pull him back into his laboratory and cause him to become embroiled in a murder investigation.  A body is brought into the hospital morgue where he works and which his assistant decides has ended up there due to foul play.  Then his daughter Phoebe is approached by a young woman who she met through a training course.  Lisa Smith is visibly upset and pleads with Phoebe to help her, explaining that someone was after her and she had to hide.  She takes Lisa to a family holiday home along the coast outside of Dublin where she is sure she'll be safe.  Something niggles at Phoebe however, a fear, and when she returns to check on Lisa, she finds the house empty with not a sign that anyone had ever been there.  And so Quirke is drawn into the search for Lisa, and for the person who murdered the man lying dead in the hospital basement, the two things being related.  He turns to his friend, Detective Hackett to make a few inquiries that dredge up secrets from the past long buried (and harken back to that first book).   

The Quirke novels are not just about the solving of a mystery, though truth-finding is certainly at the heart of the story.  These books have more to do with the psychology of people, the place and of the era.  It's as much about the why as the who and motivations seem to be more important than analyzing clues left behind at the scene of the crime.  I've read and can see a nod in the direction of an author like Georges Simenon, whose dark crime novels serve as an inspiration for Black.

If the criminals, and these are not cut-out cardboard criminals with shady looks and dark demeanors, are not exactly the obvious choice, neither are Quirke and his family predictable either.  Quirke was orphaned and adopted and had a childhood not especially happy.  The mess of his life carried over into adulthood and so, too, did the secrets and lies.  Quirke carries a lot of baggage and a fair few scars, lost loves and failed relationships.  I won't go into the backstory, since that is half the pleasure in reading these books, seeing how messy life can be and how the characters manage to get through it all (sometimes not very tidily) is something Black manages to do so very well.

I was assured it would be fine to read the book without having read all the others in between, and that has proved to be the case.  Enough of the characters's histories were filled in in a manner that didn't feel extraneous yet gave just the right amount of information.  It's not surprising that Black/Banville knows just how to tell a story with many different layers so very smoothly.  While I didn't feel lost not having read the stories in between Christine Falls and this new book, I want to know just how Quirke got here nonetheless, so I'll be filling in those five books in between. 

The Crimson Rooms by Katharine McMahon

If I could inhabit the pages of a book, or better yet walk right inside a story and be at the very least an observer, I would happily do so with with Katharine McMahon's The Crimson Rooms.  It was a pitch perfect read the first time around a few years ago and it held up beautifully to a reread this year.  While it is undeniably a comfort read for me (and a reliable reread now), there is something about it that bumps it up from a nice simple entertainment to something a bit more.  An engaging story, a page turner really, interesting characters that are nicely developed-yes, tick all those boxes easily.  But the plotting is spot on and how McMahon weaves the story together with its really intriguing storylines is quite exceptional.  It is the sort of historical fiction that I love, and it all came alive, so while I was racing to the end to find out what happened (okay, it was a reread so I knew more or less what was going to happen, but it didn't matter), I didn't want to get there too soon even knowing I was revisiting the story in anticipation of finally reading the sequel, The Woman in the Picture.

So what makes this a step above your ordinary entertaining historical novel, for me anyway, is a protagonist who is not so easily definable.  She's smart and independent yet tethered to a family of, now all females (thank WWI for their situation-what you might call genteel poverty--or at least 'barely making it').  She is haunted by the death of her beloved brother who was killed in the War and by the suicide of her father.  She does her best to do her duty as a daughter to her mother, grandmother and aunt yet she forges ahead in her desire to be a lawyer.  An opportunity only available to her through her brother's death.  He was the one meant to be a solicitor and follow in their father's footsteps, not Evelyn the daughter of the family.  A waste of an education on a mere female, so she gets it only by default.

Evelyn is plagued by self-doubt that she can achieve what she has dreamed of and set out so tenaciously to do, and few are on her side and willing to help her.  She sees only her shortcomings and it is an unconventional lawyer (specializing in lost causes--just to prove the Establishment wrong--so Evelyn is right up his alley), Daniel Breen, who will give her her chance.  Being one of the first women lawyers, the odds are against her both in work and in love.  As if being a bluestocking weren't enough of a challenge against succeeding, the odds against her finding a potential partner in love are severely stacked against her (one of the War's surplus women).  And to make life even more complicated, one night a young woman with a small boy in tow arrive on the Gifford's doorstep claiming to be the wife and son of her brother.  All the way from Canada.  Meredith was James's nurse and apparently something more.

Meredith and Edmund will throw the Gifford household into an upheaval and blow new life into Evelyn's life at the same time.  Meredith is a whirlwind. Beautiful and talented she hopes to start a new life in London and study art, and she expects the Giffords to take her in and support her and James's son.  Not everyone in the Gifford family is welcoming to the strangers, yet Evelyn is drawn to both as being the closest link left to her brother, whose death is still painfully raw for her.

It's against this backdrop of uncertainties--this woman and her son filled with hope and secrets and the palpable antipathy of nearly everyone in the legal world (men and women--judges, solicitors and even secretaries) that Evelyn defends her first client and is drawn into a murder investigation Daniel Breen takes on.  It's her moment to soar, but of course it's not easy, and twice as hard thanks to being a woman.  Meredith admires and encourages her and then shares things about James that tarnish Evelyn's happy memories.  And a seemingly mutual attraction to a fellow solicitor, a man engaged to someone else, will create a happy and equally agonizing distraction.

What I love about this book, what sets it apart from being that simple entertainment, is the unpredictability of the characters, especially Evelyn.  Not everyone behaves as you expect them to in a historical novel.  Even the bit of romance in the story is turned on its head in a way you don't exactly see coming and made me admire Evelyn all the more.  No one is wholly good or bad and those gray areas feel very real and lifelike to me.  They are conflicted characters and you find yourself getting so very wrapped up in their lives.  And this isn't a typical story of happy endings, yet that said, it is an entirely satisfying ending, which I admire all the more.  Thankfully the story continues on and I am once again finding myself getting lost in the pages of The Girl in the Picture as well. 

Katharine McMahon is one of my 'must read everything she's written' authors and I think I have nearly all her books. I've read several and happily have several more unread and waiting for me.  I see an untitled novel slated for fall publication and I hope it is not simply wishful thinking.  I have no idea what the book will be--something new?  I think I could happily read more about Evelyn or Meredith, but then maybe the book I am reading now will have a finality to it.  Even so, there will be more stories to explore.  And as you see, she is an author I will also happily reread.

Winter Progress and (finally) a NYRB

And . . . moving right along.  So, what do you think?  The red really makes a difference, doesn't it?  It adds a little zing to the design.  The redbird is going to be sitting on top of a snowman, so maybe he will be the next motif I work on.  I must admit, that I am Very Ready to see winter turn to spring, and while I am enjoying my daily stitching very much, I am ready for the spring design as well.  The red is great, but it just makes me think of Christmas.  So maybe this will be incentive for me to really move along and try and finish this as soon as I can.  And then jump into the spring design--greens, blues, maybe even yellow . . .

Drum roll please!  A little fanfare, some streamers thrown out of windows of tall buildings and maybe even a parade.  Finally, I have gotten one of my subscription books from NYRB!  The February selection arrived over the weekend.  January has been declared lost in the mail and I have been told a replacement has been mailed out to me (I wonder if it will include the freebie book?--I guess beggars can't be choosers and at this point I will just be happy to get the book).  What a rocky start.  If I decide to subscribe again next year, I will be renewing much, much, much earlier than I did last time around.

So, February's book is a memoir, parts of which "read more delightfully than fiction" according to one of the blurbs on the back cover.  More Was Lost: A Memoir by Eleanor Perényi will be dropped in the bookbag this week.  I have just barely started reading, but it promises to be quite entertaining.

"Best known for her classic book Green Thoughts: A Writer in the Garden, Eleanor Perényi led a worldly life before settling down in Connecticut. More Was Lost is a memoir of her youth abroad, written in the early days of World War II, after her return to the United States. In 1937, at the age of nineteen, Perényi falls in love with a poor Hungarian baron and in short order acquires both a title and a struggling country estate at the edge of the Carpathians. She throws herself into this life with zeal, learning Hungarian and observing the invisible order of the Czech rule, the resentment of the native Ruthenians, and the haughtiness of the dispossessed Hungarians. In the midst of massive political upheaval, Perényi and her husband remain steadfast in their dedication to their new life, an alliance that will soon be tested by the war. With old-fashioned frankness and wit, Perényi recounts this poignant tale of how much was gained and how much more was lost."

I don't really have many goals for this year, but I did want to try and keep up with my NYRB subscription this year.  I'll have some serious catching up when the January book arrives.   Nothing like a few obstacles thrown in my way to test my perseverance, eh?!