Meet Me at the Museum by Anne Youngson

A few years ago, Meet me at the Museum was pegged by NPR as “the charmer of the summer.”

That peeked my interest, and when I learned this debut novel was written by the author at 70 years old, well I knew I had to see if the publisher would grant me a copy.

I was delighted when they did just that

Shameful, but two years later, I finally got around to reading this book and found it much more than just a “charmer”.

But wait, I’ll start at the beginning.

Meet me at the Museum is written as an epistolary novel (one of my favorite style of books) and opens with a women’s letter to a Danish museum inquiring about the The Tollund Man*, whose well preserved corpse is exhibited there. I had never heard of The Tollund Man, who lived during the Iron Age, 250 BC, but I learned about him (it?) through this book. This initial inquiry turns into a correspondence between a widower and a farmer’s wife in Great Britain.

These two older adults are both in very different, and difficult, places in their lives, and through the correspondence they develop an candid and close friendship.

The lost art of letter writing is alive and well in this slim novel book. Both characters open up slowly — but eventually they drop their formal addressing and are soon using each other’s first names – Anders and Tina. They are also slow to reveal their past stories and reluctant to share their dis-satisfactions with their current lives — the walls of their privacy, slow to break down.

I found the ways they shared and expressed their viewpoints of both their own and others thoughts and behaviors insightful and often poetic. I kept stopping to mark a passage and would think — what a wonderful way to put that — such as this one.

We should look inside ourselves for fulfillment. It is not fair to burden children or grandchildren with the obligation to make us whole. Our obligation to them is to make them safe and provide them with an education. Karin can do that alone, if she chooses. She owes no one anything else. She owes it to herself to do what is best for her. When I had said this, Mary kissed me. I can’t remember the last time she did that. Or the last time I enjoyed a conversation more.

There are some lovely metaphors in Meet Me at the Museum — such as picking the raspberries in life, and a story of about a Rag Man — both treasures. (Sorry, you’ll have to read it to find out.)

As I read this book, I really enjoyed piecing together these humble character’s lives through their honest and heartfelt correspondence.

This is not a fast-paced, plot-driven novel – it is thoughtful and quiet — rich in depth and language — it was a real reading pleasure.

A digital review copy was kindly provided by Flatiron Books, via Netgalley.

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N.B. Meet Me at the Museum is reminiscent of another favorite of mine Our Souls at Night. (I know I’m getting older, but so many novels are aimed to the under 50 reading audience, and I find myself drawn to books with older, wiser perspectives on life and living

* And now for a little geeky-ness background:

The book was inspired by a poem written by Seamus Heaney – The Tollund Man – which you can read HERE. Mr. Heaney, inscribed part of the poem in the guest book at the Silkeborg Museum (Denmark) in 1973 after he gave a talk on his memories of the Irish bogs where the Tollund Man was discovered.

Even more information HERE — if you’re interested.

Take a Book, Leave a Book

All through this last year, Little Free Libraries have sustained readers. Especially when our regular libraries were closed, these little neighborhood boxes were a wonderful way to drop off and pick up books for free.

There are several of these little boxes on the walks I take. During this very looooong year, I’ve been stopping by, leaving and picking up a few extra books. And because of the pandemic, all of them had hand sanitizer — a nice touch. Even with things starting to open up, I think I will continue to drop off and, occasionally, pick up a few books here and there.

You can find these boxes near you at the Free Little Library website there’s a national map.

I’ve been working on Husband for years to build us me one for our teeny tiny front yard. Finally, he has reluctantly agreed, but I’m sure it will be awhile – he’s a busy guy

In the meantime, let’s browse a few little library designs and plans — also on their website.

What do you think?

This one?

Or maybe I’ll go large?

Or elegant

I could go artistic

But I think in the end, something like this would be perfect.

So, find a Free Little Library near you and make them one of your regular ‘go to’ stops.

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Now, I have to work on Husband for the new, next project — this time for the back garden.

I’m sure he’ll be very excited…

If you can’t leave a comment (this comment thing is a bit wonky sometimes), just email bookbarmy@yahoo.com

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie

Back in January, I watched a PBS documentary on the work and life of Agatha Christie. It turned out to be a most enjoyable hour of television. You can watch it HERE.

I was very keen on Agatha Christie’s novels as a teen, as we had them on the family bookshelves. But for some reason, in my adult years, I stopped reading them. I can’t remember why — perhaps it was the overly convoluted plots or the one-dimensional characters. I do enjoy catching the odd Miss Marple on PBS. But it’s been years (and years) since I’ve read any of her mystery novels.

This documentary re-kindled my interest, especially when it hailed The Murder of Roger Ackroyd as one of the finest mysteries ever written and went on to say it breaks all the rules of traditional mystery writing — Having just finished a very thoughtful and wonderful book (more in a future post), I went to my handy digital library system and downloaded the novel to my Kindle. Turns out it’s one of Christie’s Herclue Poirot novels.

Now, I’ve never been a fan of Poirot either in novel or television — I’ve always found his character a bit ridiculous and pretentious – sorry to all you David Suchet fans.

On the other hand, Poirot has been called one of the greatest fictional detectives of all time, and given I was committed to reading such a highly acclaimed Christie novel, I plowed right in.

There’s a certain charm of tradition that comes with Agatha Christie’s novels, and I soon settled in to the once-familiar writing style. Patiently, I waited for Poirot to complete at least one or two sentences — at least before he solved the mystery. But I soon got used to that as well.

Poirot has retired to a small English village and is happy to putter around his garden and cottage. But he is soon drawn in to investigate two deaths. One due to an overdose of a sleeping drug, which some called accidental and others suicide. The other is a more obvious murder, as the victim, Roger Ackroyd, has been stabbed. Poirot, of course, will have to use his little gray cells to solve these two seemingly unrelated deaths. He is aided in his investigation by the town doctor, Dr. Sheppard, and his gossipy sister, Caroline. We soon meet a parade of interesting characters — and most of them seem to have had a motive to kill Roger Ackroyd. Poirot eliminates them from consideration one-by-one. Until we come to the murderer, that is.

In case you haven’t read The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, I won’t give away any more that that. I will tell you it was a real surprise and quite clever ending. I finished it with a sigh of contentment, but I also kicked myself because I had considered the final murder suspect early on, but due to Agatha Christie’s deftness in offering up red herrings and other plausible paths, I abandoned my supposition far too soon. But in the end:

“Everything is simple, if you arrange the facts methodically”

The characters are, per usual, a bit one-dimensional, but perhaps it’s pandemic brain (or my older self), this time I found them enjoyable. The sister, Caroline, was a especially funny character in this novel. All-in-all I enjoyed revisiting Dame Christie’s writing.

You can read the book just relaxing on a Saturday afternoon and enjoy the twists and reveals as they come. However, I plan to re-read it to see where I was lead astray, the clues I missed, and upon second reading better appreciate the art of this brilliantly written murder mystery. Either way — it will be a satisfying experience.

Full disclosure And Then There Were None is still my most favorite Christie novel.

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I don’t know if I’m cheating to offer you this — HERE’S the film adaptation.

I am trying to decide whether or not I want to watch it. Pandemic brain says “oh why not?” But Book Barmy brain says “no, no, don’t do it! — the book is always better.”

I know, I know – this is a very trivial decision. I should be using my little grey cells on other things, like world peace, Oprah’s interview with royalty, or what to make for dinner (again!)

~~~ I’m obviously bored.

D.I.Why?

The Sketchbook from the back of the New York Times Book Review is always quirky, sometimes strange, and often creative.

I found their list of do-it-yourself-during-pandemic-titles especially funny.

Click HERE for the full list

From Scratch by Tembi Locke

Friends and loved ones often say I have too many books. I still love these clueless souls, but they don’t understand. It’s not that I have too many books, it’s that these books are quite happy on my shelves, just waiting for me to find them.

Such was the case with From Scratch. A friend gave me this book and because we have different tastes in reading, it has languished in my ‘maybe I’ll read, maybe I won’t’ section. Rattling around the house on a rainy afternoon, I picked it up and decided to give it a try. I didn’t have any idea what I was getting into when I started this book, but before long I was deeply entangled in a beautiful story of love and loss, and all that comes with it.

“In Sicily, every story begins with a marriage or a death. In my case it’s both. And so it was that I found myself driving a rusted Fiat through a winding country road on the outskirts of Alimunusa, a small Sicilian village, with my husband’s ashes in a small wooden box tucked between my legs.”

So begins this luscious memoir by Tembi Locke (that word luscious will be back). Tembi is an American television and film actress and she recounts her college semester abroad in Florence where she meets Saro, a chef. At first, Tembi is not interested in a relationship. But, for Saro, it’s love at first sight. She tries to discourage him, but he doesn’t give up. He makes her amazing romantic meals in his restaurant, he brings her flowers, in short, he woos her until she falls for him too.

When the semester ends and Tembi goes back to California, Saro eventually comes to the US where their relationship blossoms. They marry in Florence several years later. They build a happy life in Los Angeles, with fulfilling careers, luscious meals, deep friendships and the love of their lives: a baby girl they adopt at birth.

Don’t leave me now folks, there’s so much more.

There are gorgeous food descriptions and beautiful Sicilian countryside. There are cultural and family dramas to work through when Saro’s Italian family rejects Tembi because she is black. They navigate their way through two clashing cultures and eventually create their own.

Saro develops cancer and they struggle through ten years of his sickness …and as we know from the first paragraph, sadly he dies. Yes, From Scratch is sad (have tissues nearby) but it is also a fascinatingly upbeat tale, that once I was 50 pages in, I had to give it my complete attention.

Saro’s death changes Tembi’s relationship with his family. After his death, Tembi returns to Saro’s family home every summer with their daughter. And, against the backdrop of Sicilian culture & countryside — they heal and cook together – a new relationship and mutual appreciation develops. They connect as a family and Saro’s family lay aside their previous rejection of both the marriage and her. Tembi and her daughter soon also accept and understand the Sicilian culture:

I was witnessing another example of the way community functioned so tightly here, for better or for worse. Each of the women on this street will be called upon and expected to participate in the illness or death of the others. They held one another up, it was a custom as ancient and alive as the ruins of Sicily’s Harrah temple.

From Scratch shines with the food –there are luscious (there’s that word again) descriptions of food and how it bridged relationships, how it can be both comforting and sensual, but mostly it’s shows food’s significance to every family and culture.

Tembi tells of the Sicilian homemade tomato sauce, fresh made pasta, olive oil made from olives grown on the family’s land, fresh bread, lemons, herbs, and bonus — there is a collection of these family recipes at the end of the book — many of which I’ve marked to try.

This beautiful reflection on grief and healing is sometimes overly dramatic, but the majority of the writing is poetic, warm and heartfelt. This memoir is an age-old story of love, loss, reconciliation and belonging. Yes, it’s sad but yet also joyful. The food, the language, the love, the families– all of it — well just luscious.

From Scratch was a captivating read. I’m glad I found it on my happily-waiting book shelves.

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After I closed the book, I made Husband his favorite pasta sauce and hugged him close and tight.

A Good American by Alex George

Sometimes, just sometimes, a book just grabs the reader by the lapels and never lets go. Such was the case for me with A Good American. I opened it on a rainy night in January and was immediately engrossed in this multi-generational story of an immigrant German family.

It’s 1904 Germany, and Jette Furst has fallen in love after hearing Frederick Meisenheimer’s wonderful singing through a garden hedge on one of her walks.

They meet face-to-face and fall in love, but Jette’s socially conscious mother disapproves of the poor young man with no real prospects and disowns her daughter because of the relationship. The young couple fall pregnant, and knowing that her mother will not accept this situation, Jette and Frederick decide to embark for a new life in a new land. Bound first for New York, they find themselves en route to New Orleans and then through a chance encounter, they end up in to the small town of Beatrice, Missouri – where there is a thriving German immigrant community. As with all unexpected changes in course, this move will create a new path for their lives, the lives of their children, and grandchildren.

Told through the voice of their Grandson, the family story is told of four generations of Meisenheimer’s with gentle humor and and heartbreak. I loved one of the early scenes where Fredrick hires a man in a bar to teach him English over the course of the few weeks they have left in New Orleans. Fredrick is a good student and soon is excitingly speaking his new language, only to discover when they arrive in Missouri, that no one will converse with him and they actually turn their backs in disdain. Finally someone explains that the rascal teacher taught Fredrick Polish as a prank – which was met with hostility given the beginnings of WWI in Europe.

Mr. George enthralls with his story of the Meisenheimer family; their struggles, successes, talents, love, sorrows, family secrets — at the same time he weaves in the major historic events of the 20th century which impact their new country. The family has musical talents throughout the generations, so even during the bleakest times, the family can fall back on the joys of their music.

The book does has it flaws so be prepared for an excessively (and in my opinion), unnecessarily violent lynching scene. And when the story draws to a close and we are reading the adolescent grandson’s own story there is an overabundance of masturbation scenes. I’m not a prude, and I understand puberty, but I found it excessive.

But in the end, I was able to put aside these flaws because Mr. George is a fine storyteller — and he tells his story – as all good storytellers do – with a gripping narrative, well developed characters, and a keep-turning-the- pages plot. It’s a rich and highly relatable story of an immigrant family — quite possibly a similar story for any our of families.

What was most compelling about A Good American is the depiction of the struggles to live the American dream and assimilate. This is a perfect time to read this story, when I fear we have forgotten that we are, and always will be — a nation of hard working immigrants with dreams of a better life all trying so hard to be good Americans.

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I also recommend Finding Your Roots on PBS. Took me awhile to warm up to the somewhat slow pacing, but now I find the show fascinating. Much like Antiques Roadshow, but then again, I’m an antique myself.