Book Review: Murder at the Grand Alpine Hotel by Lucy Foley – the new Miss Marple mystery novel

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I am unapologetically an Agatha Christie fan – probably something to do with fond reading memories as a teenager. I have a stash of Christie fiction salted away for when I need a relaxing read and I still find them engaging. I’ve also really enjoyed several of Lucy Foley’s thrillers, so I was both excited and intrigued when I heard she’d penned a new Miss Marple.

From the start of Murder at the Grand Alpine Hotel, Lucy Foley seems to have made several wise choices about how she set about planning the story, capturing the spirit of the earlier books but making it appealing to the modern reader. She has written in a similar style to her own previously published books, with several narrative voices, though it’s Diana Glass we warm to. She’s Mrs Bantry’s companion. You may remember Dolly Bantry, a main character in The Body in the Library, and a good friend of Miss Marple’s. Since the death of her husband and sale of her home, Gossington Hall, she has made some changes – taking on a companion and deciding to do a little travelling.

Enter Diana Glass who helps her choose what kind of trip and Miss Marple, who comes along to keep Dolly company. Not long into their stay in the Swiss Alpine resort, there’s a murder. The narrative flips to Catherine Narracott, the wife of a prominent politician, Anthony Narracott. Anthony has a veneer of charm – he’s good-looking and a war hero – while underneath is a grasping, autocratic and conniving individual. Catherine is much younger than her husband and never seems able to please him.

Other narrative voices include Anthony’s scruffy, unlikely friend Bruno Crane and Sylvia Sinclair, a movie star who has a more romantic connection with Anthony. There are more characters who seem to have an odd reason for being at the resort, including a young man anxious to talk to Catherine about her husband. Nobody’s very happy, and everyone seems to want something beyond a nice day’s skiing.

  I lift my camera and take a few photographs of the peaks that seem to surge above us.
   ‘I wonder,’ says Miss Marple, ‘if your photography is a little like my bird-watching.’
   ‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
   ‘Well, that it often proves a useful way of satisfying one’s curiosity.’
   I manage a laugh. ‘Well, I take pictures of landscapes and animals. You make it sound a little … prurient.’
   ‘Oh, I didn’t mean that. Only … I wondered if you ever experience the same thing I do. One goes to observe one thing, but people will keep getting in the way.’

There’s a modern, present tense style of writing, which keeps things humming along, but there are enough references to the Miss Marple canon to make old fans like me nod their heads and smile. The character of Dolly Bantry and in particular Miss Marple ring true, and while she doesn’t do a lot to start with, her sharp eyes taking things in, as the story progresses and the body count rises, she swings into investigating in true Miss Marple form. We’ve also got a setting away from Miss Marple’s village, like quite a few of the earlier books, so I wonder if there will be more novels like this, planting our elderly sleuth in an interesting environment.

Murder at the Grand Alpine Hotel is a light, enjoyable mystery with a nice 1950s feel – World War II still casting a shadow, the role of women explored, and the feeling from several characters’ points of view that things need to change. There are red herrings and plot-twists, just as you’d expect, and while I still prefer the original Miss Marples, this is still well worth picking up. A three-and-half star read from me.

Book Review: May We Feed the King by Rebecca Perry – a poetic and original novel from the Booker shortlist

~ Judith ~ 1 Comment

I don’t often get around to reading the entire Booker shortlist but I do like to read at least one or two before the winner is announced. This year there are several that have caught my eye, and this one looked particularly interesting. May We Feed the King is set in a palace over two time frames. Beginning with an unnamed museum curator, we follow her work bringing to life the home and world of a largely forgotten king. She takes her time dressing the rooms, which she aims to look as if someone from the period has just walked out.

We’re in the Medieval era and the work is to commemorate the 750-year anniversary of the palace. There’s a lot of research involved and the curator is devoted to getting everything just right. She has recently suffered a personal loss, and she’s a withdrawn sort of person, which at times makes the people paying her nervous. Only the archivist seems to inspire any softening of her reserve.

In this way she is not completely dissimilar to the King, the reluctant monarch, unprepared and suddenly on the throne following the death of a brother. Both his brothers seem to have taken to leadership with gusto, the eldest having a reputation for bravery and a willingness to go to war, the middle brother learning the ropes and following his advisors’ suggestions. But our new King would rather stroll through the garden, avoiding calls from his advisors to act.

We follow the King’s story which is told in snippets, often asides of what a courtier saw, what an attendant heard. Facts and the truth are hard to pinpoint, while rumour and gossip run amok. And you can hardly blame people, when the King is so reluctant to put himself forward, to make a declaration or even to present an opinion. Just one attendant seems to have earned his trust, a young man who was there when his brother died.

When the King’s shock has settled, he finds that his other feelings come into focus.

Loneliness, like a terrible cave.

His companions from before he was King, select though they were, now bow to him, and won’t turn their backs to leave a room. When he is able to receive their company in his chambers, they are stiff and uncomfortable, despite his assurances.

There are men who seek to attach themselves to power, and there are those who do not. For some, a King is the cure, and for others, he is the disease.

We feel for this king, suddenly having to do a job he has no aptitude or ambition for, as well as the curator trying to find the truth of his time. Was it really like this? How can we be sure that this or that happened as it has been portrayed? These are the thoughts that the author seems to be playing with. It’s a different kind of story that might make you rethink what you imagine when you visit a museum or heritage site or even think about history.

May We Feed the King is beautifully written in a straight-forward, elegant style that suggests thought has been given every word as well as the way the text is arranged. Dialogue is mostly revealed as reported speech. Paragraphs are separated by spaces. So it’s easy to rattle through the book quite quickly, but I felt I could easily read it again and find more to enjoy and more to think about, and with such lovely language, why not? A five-star read from me.

Book Review: Country People by Daniel Mason – a quirky tale of family, friendship and finding your way

~ Judith ~ 2 Comments

It is so refreshing when you come across a writer who is just such a good storyteller, has a wonderful way with language, and a completely original idea that just works. This was the case for me with Daniel Mason’s new book Country People.

The story is told from the point of view of Miles, forty-something, a man who has never quite finished his PhD, which is something to do with Tolstoy, but keeps shifting its focus. When his wife Kate is offered a visiting professorship at a college in Vermont, the idea is this will be the perfect opportunity to complete that dissertation. So they pack up the kids (Wesley and Olive) and their dog Giuseppe, which is the kind bred for truffle digging, and leave California.

The story follows their time in Vermont, through the seasons, as Miles finds endless distractions and slowly builds a sense of community. Kate, a warm-hearted and engaging teacher soon makes friends among her colleagues. But she worries about Miles, who is charming and can strike up a conversation with anyone, but seems a bit lonely. She never seems frustrated at his failure to complete his studies, or build a career, which might upset other spouses.

A colleague of Kate’s suggests he visit her husband, who has an orchard and who shows Miles how to scythe a field, which he can justify as research – Tolstoy’s peasants scythed. He helps out with the school production of a Shakespearean play directed by a flirty young thespian and meets a random collection of odd characters who are committed to discovering a hidden world. But none of these people are the kinds of people he imagines Kate would approve of, so he finds himself keeping secrets from her.

Seventeen miles away, at a gas station, they found themselves in a land of culinary abundance. What exotic flavours! What strange delectations! Raised in the land of the unprocessed and organic, attending public schools that maintained their own gardens, never had the children tasted of the Slurpee, the Twinkie, or the Pepperoni Pizza Cracker. Pringles they knew, but only at a distance. The friendly werewolf smiling on the chicken-flavoured puffs was still a stranger. Could they guess the central ingredient of the Corn Nut? Who was this Sara Lee of such extraordinary industry? Or “Slim Jim,” and why were his meat sticks packaged in the same colour scheme as Pennzoil?

One thing I really liked about the book was that in spite of some of their odd ideas, all the characters are kind. Miles and his family are all good sorts too, which makes a welcome change as often contemporary fiction is peppered with characters who have issues, who rage or who are just unpleasant. But here the author, like Miles, seems to find the good in everyone and yet still make them really interesting. And when disaster strikes, they all come together when they need to.

The other thing I really enjoyed was the way you read through the seasons and the setting changes to suit that, along with the local activities. Swimming in the river, autumn harvesting to skiing lessons and everything in between. It kind of meanders a little, but in an enjoyable way, and is never boring, before building up to a brilliant conclusion. Maybe this is also because Miles is good company, and that Mason is such a witty writer. All in all, this was a great read, and a new author for that must-read list. Country People is a five-star read from me.

Book Review: My Father’s House by Joseph O’Connor – terror and courage in German occupied Rome

~ Judith ~ 3 Comments

My Father’s House has been on my radar since it was short-listed for the Walter Scott Prize. With a second book in the trilogy already out (The Ghosts of Rome) and the third (The City of Echoes) due early next year, it was high time to pick it up. I was fascinated by the story of the daring escapades of the Escape Line, the underground network of unlikely comrades, knowns as The Choir, who worked to get Allied escaped prisoners, diplomats and refugees out of Rome during the German occupation. But also just as interesting were the characters of those involved, in particular, the Vatican priest who led their mission.

The occupation began in September of 1943 led by Gestapo chief, Obersturmbannfüher Paul Hauptmann, who is under pressure from Himmler to get results. It doesn’t take long for him to notice that one particular priest, Hugh O’Flaherty, gets about a lot and has some interesting friends. Among them singer and the Irish diplomat Delia Kiernan, Jo Landini a countess, and Sir D’Arcy Osborne, a British envoy to the Vatican. It’s fascinating that the Vatican City was a safe haven, a tiny, neutral and independent state within Rome. This made it a kind of bolt-hole when a bombed and terrorised Rome became unsafe for so many escapees.

The book opens with Delia driving through the night to get one of The Choir, Major Sam Derry, to hospital when he falls dangerously ill with appendicitis. He’s dressed in a Nazi uniform, the car is struggling and there’s a curfew on. So plenty to ramp up the tension. Derry is an important cog in the wheel of their work, as an important mission looms – the Rendimento. Money accumulated by the group needs to be dispersed among the safe houses around Rome to get the escapees out before an expected clamp-down by Hauptmann in the new year. Dated for Christmas Eve, there’s an expectation that German forces will be a little thin on the ground, so a good time for the plan.

Presently Ugo would call the group to order and play the keynote on a harmonica. As the singing began, which usually happened ten or fifteen minutes after the last of us had arrived, sometimes white-faced and breathless, up the haunted steps, his practice was to systematically make his way around the table, from one of us to another, talking in whispers or showing scribbled notes on lavatory paper, which he would tear up and burn in the stove when we had memorised them. Rome was of course a nest of spies in those months; Hauptmann’s Gestapo had planted microphones widely. It was common knowledge that they had taken over the telephone exchange, that every operator was now an SS agent, every call monitored, every meeting of more than six people covertly photographed. A secured radio transmitter at Nazi Headquarters in the fashionable hotel neighbourhood had a direct channel to Hitler’s lair, the Berghof at Obersalszberg.

With Derry ill, Hugh is anxious to find a replacement for the Rendimento, and this becomes a part of the plot, leading up to the night itself. But the story is told in an unusual way, swapping between the characters of The Choir and even a bit with Hauptmann himself. Some of these appear as transcripts from BBC interviews, parts of a memoir, as well as regular narrative. It keeps things interesting and also gives insight into the lives and characters of the key players.

I also really enjoyed the dialogue. Hugh, a big-hearted man, can be blunt and witty, Delia has the charm of the Irish, D’Arcy the languid insolence of someone of his class. Then there’s the Italian candle-seller, Enzo Angelucci, who knows Rome as well as anybody and has the passion of a man whose city is under siege. Hauptmann himself is well-imagined – a ruthless narcissist – but with an ability to shake off the horrors of his day by vanishing to his bolt-hole, a lakeside house in woodland, dreaming of catching his priest.

While Joseph O’Connor admits in his author’s note that this is a novel and that he has fictionalised much of what happens to suit the story, you can tell he’s done a heap of research and knows his subject well. You get an authentic feel of what Rome was like, its cobbled streets and dark alleyways, the bomb craters and riverside. While we get a satisfying ending – a glimpse of The Choir two decades later with a This Is Your Life TV episode – there’s still a way to go with the war. So plenty more work for the Escape Line. I will very much look forward to the next two books.

My Father’s House handily suited one of the tasks in the 52 Book Club challenge – a book “inspired by the top-grossing movie the year you were born”. For me this was Spartacus (yes, I know that’s a long time ago), similarly set in Rome and also with rebels and fugitives. The book was the perfect choice for me – and a terrific five-star read.

The Eights by Joanna Miller – a immersive story of female friendship at an Oxford college in the 1920s

~ Judith ~ 3 Comments

Debut novelist Joanna Miller recreates the struggles of women to be taken seriously at Oxford in the post-WWI era. At the time, the women’s suffrage movement had won the vote for British women over 30, with some provisos. You would think a university like Oxford would be at the forefront of social movements and ideas, but sadly this is not the case for the young women at the heart of The Eights. While some professors were happy to have women in their classes, others point blank refused, or were deliberately obstructive.

The book follows four female students over the course of their first academic year. Dora, Beatrice, Otto (Ottoline) and Marianne have little in common, apart from the fact that at St Hughs, their rooms are on Corridor Eight. This is what makes the book interesting as each of them has come to study from completely different backgrounds. And that this is the first year that women can be conferred degrees at Oxford. Before that, while they were allowed to study, no degrees were awarded when they finished the same courses as men.

It’s 1920, Britain is still reeling from the war, and young, eligible men are in short supply. Which is the only reason Dora’s mother thought Oxford a good idea. Here at least there are plenty of young men and very few women. She just wants to see Dora married off to someone suitable. Dora is however grieving for her lost love, Charles, and for her brother, both lost to the trenches.

Dora’s mother is not the most sympathetic, but not as bad as Otto’s mother who doesn’t care for her daughter a bit. Otto is the oldest of the four students, comes from wealth, runs with a rather fast set, drinks a lot and is in no hurry to marry. She’s also brilliant at mathematics. Beatrice, also super bright, has mother problems too. Her mother is famous suffragette, still furiously campaigning for women’s rights and good on her for that. But poor Beatrice, tall and ungainly, struggles to win any maternal feelings from her.

Marianne has no mother at all, and has come on a scholarship. She disappears odd weekends to help her widowed, clergyman father, she says, but the reader soon knows she’s hiding a secret. We don’t find out what that is until the end of the book, but other secrets bubble to the surface for all of them, one way and another. Meanwhile there are endless rules, tests and exams and even bells. Discipline is rigid, while the young male students seem to get up to all sorts of hijinks, and drinking, seriously a no-no for the girls, is quite the done thing for the lads.

She is aware she looks ridiculous in her academic dress. Which genius decided that women should wear the floppy cap sported by students four hundred years ago? It is impossibly itchy. She has tried a jaunty angle, pulling it down around her ears or wearing it at the back of her head. Nothing works. Oddly enough Marianne, long-necked like a goose, looks as if she was born wearing one. The last few days have revealed that Marianne exhibits both empathy and a dry wit, a surprisingly appealing combination to Otto, but today Marianne seems anxious again, wringing her hands until her knuckles glow like pearls.
‘It’s just a talk, we’re not going down with the Titanic,’ Otto whispers in her ear.

Each character is nicely developed and faces her own challenges, disappointments and triumphs. They learn more than what’s on their syllabuses and the story nicely ambles along. Miller has done a lot of research and recreates the geography of Oxford with care, also peppering the book with snippets of news articles, notices and rules from the time, which give the book a nice authentic feel. While there’s some romance, it isn’t the main part of the story, which is as it should be. Our characters didn’t come to Oxford to get married off in their first year.

I found The Eights is a charming, entertaining and at times moving story and the pages whipped by. I’d be happy to find out what happens to Dora, Marianne, Beatrice and Otto next – I do hope they finish their degrees and go on to do wonderful things. Altogether this is a brilliant debut, and a four-star read from me.

Book Review: The Newer World by Sebastian Barry – life beyond the American Civil War for a man born into slavery

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Sebastian Barry is one of those writers who can create such perfect sentences you pause in your need to find out what happens next just to enjoy them again. So I was happy to throw my hat in the ring for his new book, The Newer World, when it was offered on Netgalley.

The story kind of follows on from Barry’s earlier books set in America around the time of the Civil War (Days Without End and A Thousand Moons). Characters from those books cross paths with our main character in this one – Tennyson Bouguereau, a man born into slavery. We’re in rural Tennessee, where Tennyson grows up with his twin sister Rosalee, losing his parents in one act of brutality after another. The Civil War and the end of slavery brings hope of freedom, but there are many in the area who supported the Confederate cause and don’t see the freed slaves as anymore deserving of a decent life than before.

The farm where Tennyson and Rosalee work is owned by the Magan family, who only just make a living from their land. But at least they are more kindly than other landowners. Luther Magan even allows the children to be educated and passes on a patch of land to the twins when he dies. His son Elija (Lige) however signs up for the Union during the war, which marks the Magans out among their neighbours. The war seems to bring out the worst in them, and when Tennyson defends the Magans property and his new friends (Lige has opened his home to Cole, McNulty and Winona, from the earlier books), he must leave abruptly, or risk being lynched.

So begins a tale of new beginnings and abrupt departures as Tennyson attempts to make a life for himself. A sympathetic lawyer named Briscoe helps him on his way and Tennyson makes the journey to Nashville where his singing voice lands him an opportunity to join a touring choir. A new friend, George, helps him adapt to his new life. As a reader you realise how basic a slave’s life could be as Tennyson learns about cleanliness and to dress in a suit, his old rags thrown away.

Still, it seems that whatever Tennyson learns and however much he adapts, freedom doesn’t equal acceptance in a white dominated society, and danger and injustice hover around him. But you can’t help feeling hopeful, particularly when he falls in love and is appreciated for his singing voice. Nothing is plain sailing, though, and Tennyson must make a terrible choice, between love and the obligations of friendship.

Barry does an amazing job of recreating the period and the people, his main character feels truly authentic and his struggles really tug on your heart. He’s also a witness to an America putting its colonial stamp on its land which is truly illuminating. For all he endures, he’s a survivor and by the end of the book, you can’t help but feel that there might be another story for Tennyson, and another book. I’d certainly be keen to see how his story continues. Another masterly work from Sebastian Barry, The Newer World is a five-star read from me.

The Newer World can certainly be read as a stand-alone novel and is due for publication on 10 September. With thanks to Netgalley and Faber & Faber, in return for an honest review.

Book Review: The Cromarty Library Circle by Shona MacLean – a novel about life in a Scottish town on the brink of change

~ Judith ~ 4 Comments

This book could almost be titled Love in the Time of Cholera, or possibly The Book Group if those titles hadn’t already been taken. The Cromarty Library Circle takes us to 1830 and a small coastal town in the north of Scotland, where a group of its more genteel citizens decide to start a small library, a kind of book group where each member chooses a book. These are purchased, read and passed on to the next in the circle, which also meets regularly to discuss them.

I must say I quite like the idea of this kind of book group. The circle includes the minister, Alasdair Mackay and his younger wife Rachel; the local gentry, Sir William Mackenzie, also with a younger wife, Charlotte, who is a friend of Rachel’s. There’s Janet Cameron, the hotelkeeper, and her bank-teller son Ludovic, and the spinster sisters Elspeth and Anna Rose. There’s a quaint old antiquarian and a young romantic-minded schoolteacher. The Hossacks, representing new money, are the owners of the rope works.

The story follows the problematic marriages of the Mackays, which is mostly happy, and the Mackenzies, which isn’t. We’ve got the predatory Farquhar Hossack, a thorough ne’er do well, and also medical student, making life uncomfortable for Ludovic, whom he’s bullied since childhood, and Ludovic’s sister, a young black girl brought back from a sugar plantation by Sir William. In the background, an abolitionist bill is slowly making its way through parliament, and this drives some dire predictions around future prosperity by those who have made their fortunes on the back of slavery.

Ludovic is friends with John, the schoolteacher, and Stanislaus, the clockmaker’s apprentice. Stan’s a refugee from Poland following the Russian quashing of an uprising, a former count now making his home in Cromarty. I enjoyed their discussions about the wider world – Ludovic dreaming of America, Stan dreaming of home, while John mostly seems to dream about the fine-looking ladies of the library circle.

‘But why are you not there?’
Despite the young man’s great intelligence, James often had to remind himself that Stanislas had much to learn about life in a Scottish town. He laughed. ‘Me? Because I am neither great nor good. And there are amongst the chosen ones a goodly few whose memories stretch back forty years and are not inclined to forgive what they have been so careful not to forget.’ What they would neither forgive nor forget was James’s youthful enthusiasm for the French and their revolution that had, in his younger days, drawn him to Paris itself.
‘But you have read more than those people. You have read more than anyone in this town.’
James took out his eyeglass and pointed it at Stanislas. ‘Not quite, Stan. Miller, the stonemason, has read more than anyone else in this town, and I can assure you, they haven’t invited him to join their number either.

The story is charming in its portrayal of these characters, all brought to life in a believable way, with their worries and foibles. But the issue of wealth from plantations worked by slaves casts a dark shadow. Also in the background there’s the emigration ships, preparing to take people to Canada and beyond. These are people who have lost their crofts due to the land enclosures – sheep replacing small-scale farming. Also in the harbour are the quarantine ships – an attempt to stem the spread of cholera which has been slowly creeping up the British Isles.

I loved these characters, their stories each coming to dramatic points throughout the book in a more than satisfying way. The stranglehold on people’s lives by duty and a strict social hierarchy, which I kind of expected. And also the power of the minister and his barbed comments about behaviour from the pulpit, which I hadn’t. But I’m also impressed by MacLean’s dept of research into the politics and concerns of the time which adds depth to the novel and creates an interesting world.

There is both joy and sadness in the story, and the feeling that while our characters have been through a lot by the end of the book, they have much more to face. But perhaps they are finally strong enough to weather the storms coming. The Cromarty Library Circle is a terrific historical novel and a five star read from me.

Book Review: The Only Survivors by Megan Miranda – an atmospheric thriller with plenty of twists

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Megan Miranda’s always a safe pair of hands for a solid psychological thriller. There’s usually an atmospheric setting and that’s the case here with The Only Survivors. The story follows a group who went to the same high school, who in their senior year were on a school trip that went horribly wrong. Of the original nine survivors, seven are left, meeting up once a year for a week to check in with each other, to make sure they’re all OK.

It’s now ten years since the accident that saw two vans of kids drive off a twisty bit of road into a river. Twelve people lost their lives, but no one really knows what happened. Amaya’s lawyer parents stepped in; their firm produced an acceptable story and that was that, no blame, no repercussions. Just a tidy payout to the survivors, a memorial library in honour of those who died.

As the anniversary looms, with their usual week away at The Shallows, a rambling beach house on a sandy peninsula, Cassidy has almost decided to stay home. She has a new relationship, which unlike those before, might be going somewhere, and she has been trying to distance herself from the group, changing her contact details. However an email telling her that one of the survivors has taken his life gets through. Ian was always fragile, and Ian was the one Cassidy was closest to. Driven by guilt for not being there for him, Cassidy changes her mind and packs her bag.

The story follows Cassidy’s growing unease at The Shallows, a feeling that someone is watching them. Woven into this are switches back in time to the hours following the crash. It soon appears that those who made it out aren’t just suffering from survivor guilt but have other reasons for remorse. There’s finger pointing and blame hovering just under the surface of their interactions, particularly now there’s the threat of a new inquiry.

As an older reader, you can’t help but imagine how your eighteen-year-old self would cope in a life and death situation like this accident. It’s easy at first to forgive – they’re so young and did well to get out alive. Ten years on they’ve made good lives for themselves career-wise but have they really moved on? Secrets emerge in the snippets from the accident that have you guessing – secrets involving arguments and a knife – nicely upping the tension.

As the man called 911, he counted them in the beam of the headlights. “Seven, eight, nine kids – “
“We have to go back,” Clara sobbed. “There are – ” But Joshua pulled her tighter, so tight, her cries were muffled into his shoulder.
“Shh,” Josh said, close to her ear.
They’d all heard the violence of the river. The crash of the water flooding through the gorge, close at their heels. They knew there was no surviving it.
Amaya saw it all, a montage: the people they had left behind – injured, huddled along the base of the cliffs. The haunting look in their eyes. It was too late for them, she knew. She’d known it from the start.

In the present day, as another weather emergency threatens, it’s hard for Cassidy to know who to trust, especially when Amaya makes an early departure. Megan Miranda does a nice job of working the psychology of the different characters, the way they bicker and lurk alone in their rooms, or clump together at the local bar for hours in apparent solidarity. Everyone seems to have secrets.

Tension builds nicely, helped by the atmosphere of the house, with its unlatched doors that blow open in the wind, the creaky floorboards and ramshackle balconies, as the story works to a surprising and shocking conclusion. But the most shocking thing of all is that you can just imagine how this could actually happen. The Only Survivors is a terrific page-turner, and a four-star read from me.

Book Review: Margaret, Are You Leaving? by Dianne Yarwood – an empathetic, insightful story about finding your roots

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Yet another book about a character coming to terms with her family’s past, but no less enjoyable for all that. I’d chosen the book for its interesting and attractive cover – yes, covers do matter – and was soon engrossed in Maggie’s story. She’s an engaging character, a real live-wire, now in her forties. We’re in Sydney a couple of decades ago and Maggie’s at work where she fields calls from viewers for a television channel. She’s interrupted by a phone call from her brother Lucas with the news that her adoptive mother is dead.

The news is a shock, but not because of grief, but rather because it reminds Maggie of her terrible childhood. Lucas also reveals that he has found some documents about Maggie’s birthmother, but she’s reluctant to go down that path, aware that the woman gave her up when she was two, and that makes two mothers that were unable to love her. The book follows Maggie’s eventual decision to find out more about her origins and the journey that takes her.

When Maggie’s not at work at the station, she also has a job as a part-time teacher aide, which she loves and has a talent for. She’s particularly good with troubled children, seeing in them the need for connection that she had missed out on. You can’t help thinking what a terrific mother she’d have been herself.

I loved the character of Maggie, who really carries the novel. She’s madly enthusiastic for cooking – there’s lots of delicious food described – and when she’s unhappy, goes fishing, whatever the hour. I particularly loved her dog, a pointer called Brian, who strikes me as one of the best literary dogs I’ve met.

She drove to Rodd Point and parked by the water, then set herself up on the stone sea wall with Brian locked by her side. The water was inky and changing in the moonlight. She wore a small head torch and it lit up her hands, the fishing line, the ledge where she sat with her legs dangling over its edge.
It occurred to her that she’d come here to scream. To scream and scream and not be heard. But there was someone else. A little further along a man stood on one of the small rocky ledges in front of the wall. Fishing as she was. Alone and quiet as she was.
So instead she held one finger on the line waiting for movement and worked to fend off despair. Her chest rose and fell, water lapped. Brian lay beside her with his head resting on her leg.

Maggie also bonds with her TV channel co-worker Anna, who has her own mother-related subplot. As an Englishwoman having settled in Australia, Anna desperately misses her family back home – particularly her mother. This mother is the opposite of Maggie’s mother, the two phoning each other most days, while Anna’s own home life revolves around children and family.

The story reveals some sad truths about Australia’s immigration history – particularly the difficulties European migrants found adjusting to life in Australia, often carrying the burden of their wartime experiences. Maggie’s experiences in institutional care as a troublesome child also make for sobering reading. In the Author’s Note at the back of the story, more of this is explained plus that this book is inspired by the life of the author’s friend.

But the overall feel of the book is uplifting, a feel-good read due to the empathy Dianne Yarwood creates for her characters, even the not very nice ones. There’s wisdom and humour as well, and maybe it was a little too feel-good for me, but you can’t help wanting a happy ending for someone who has had so much sorrow. Margaret, Are You Leaving? is a three-and-half star read from me.

Book Review: More Than Enough by Anna Quindlen – a warm and witty novel about family, friendship and DNA

~ Judith ~ 4 Comments

Anna Quindlen’s new book has some similar themes as Ann Patchett’s Whistler. And while Patchett’s obviously the heavyweight here, both authors have a wisdom and warmth about them with a real empathy for their characters. More Than Enough follows forty-two-year-old English teacher Polly Goodman who belongs to a book group where no one is allowed to read the book. They buy the book, each taking turns to choose the book, but no one is to read or talk about the book, because their monthly get together is a chance to talk about themselves and share what’s important.

It’s her three friends from her book group that have bought Polly a DNA kit as a kind of joke. Perhaps if she’d had a happier relationship with her mother, if her father wasn’t in a care home for early onset dementia, she would have hesitated longer before sending away her sample for analysis.

When Polly discovers she has a match with someone outside her family, the sceptre of a family secret emerges and she agrees to meet Talia, a troubled young girl she instantly warms to. Garrison, Polly’s brother is gay and insists there isn’t a chance of his fathering a child – I love Garrison, who’s both worldly wise and hilarious. She can’t talk to her father about it, and her mother’s a formidable, high-flying judge who doesn’t inspire confidences.

Meanwhile, Polly and her lovely husband Mark, a large-animal vet at the zoo, are trying desperately to have a child, have had several disappointing rounds of IVF, to the point that it begins to seem impossible. There are more book group meetings, and Talia introduces Polly to her grandmother, a wise and empathetic breeder of alpacas, which she uses for her absurdly expensive range of knitwear.

Polly and Mark are lovely characters, you want the best for them and you get the backstory of their relationship. There’s Polly’s school teaching and her growing up with that tough-cookie of a mother – something Polly has always resented. This reminded me of the mother-daughter relationship in Whistler, along with the sense of a mother keeping secrets. Again, we have characters that are well-meaning – there’s nobody whose nasty or manipulative , nobody driven to do something terrible – maybe because there can be enough things going on in ordinary lives to create the tension a story needs to keep you reading.

Each term I put a poster on the old cork board with a quote from a writer. This year it’s from Louisa May Alcott: “I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.” At least a few of my first-years will copy it down, worried that it will make its way onto the exam. Every time I look at it, I will think to myself, Lies, lies and damn lies. But that’s just me, still afraid of storms, and of capsizing.
“Who is George Eliot?” I’ll ask them right out of the gate so that I can get a snapshot: the ones who had researched the writer, the ones woh hadn’t, the ones who didn’t know who I was talking about, even occasionally the ones, usually transfers from other schools, who thought George Eliot was male. I loved my job, and I loved Windsor, but I had to start playing intellectual chess day one.

Over all, this is a warm, gentle read, laced with sad moments as well as humour. Although it may seem a little slow going, it’s well worth it as you become invested in the characters. I had to put it aside for a few days when I was away for a weekend – I don’t like taking library books on holiday – and couldn’t wait to get back to Polly’s story on my return. I’ve enjoyed other novels by this author and More Than Enough did not disappoint – a four-star read from me.