At the Water’s Edge by Sara Gruen

How do I decide which books to take on holiday? My requirements:  They must be an easy read, yet intelligent enough to hold my interest when I’m sure to be reading in fits and starts.  I read At the Water’s Edge while galloping across Central Europe and it fit the bill beautifully.

From the blurb:

After disgracing themselves at a high society New Year’s Eve party in Philadelphia in 1944, Madeline Hyde and her husband, Ellis, are cut off financially by his father, a former army colonel who is already ashamed of his son’s inability to serve in the war. When Ellis and his best friend, Hank, decide that the only way to regain the Colonel’s favor is to succeed where the Colonel very publicly failed—by hunting down the famous Loch Ness monster—Maddie reluctantly follows them across the Atlantic, leaving her sheltered world behind.

WWII is raging and yet this unlikely trio arranges passage across the Atlantic sailing through U-boats to a small Scottish village on the shores of Loch Ness.  The only inn falls far below their usual standards, there is no electricity at night, there are severe food shortages, and rations on what little food is available. 

Ellis and Hank are unwilling to adapt to the war-time conditions, expecting room cleaning, laundry service, and extravagant meals after their outings attempting to photograph the Loch Ness Monster.

Maddie, happily left behind during the men’s outings, starts to become friendly with the two young women who work in the inn and begins to see beyond her wealthy Philadelphia background.  Maddie soon dons an apron and helps out around the inn, grows even fonder of her new friends — and especially the rugged Scotsman inn manager.

Meanwhile, our hapless American males grow even more obnoxious as they set out to interview locals who have reportedly seen “Nessie”.  The villagers are having none of these monster seekers. They have no interest in helping out, so tell conflicting stories and give wildly inaccurate locations.  As Ellis and Hank continue to fail in their quest, they drink excessively, stay out for days, and there are repercussions, not only to the marriage and their friendship– but throughout the village.  Maddie grew on me, just as she did with the Scottish villagers. And the range of village characters were well drawn and unique.

This novel isn’t just about a Scottish village or searching for the Loch Ness Monster — there’s a hint of murder, a haunted castle, ghosts, a war story, superstitions, abuse and romance– and in the end — good versus evil.

I’ll admit there were some downright silly elements to the book. Normally I would roll my eyes but for some reason I was able to forgive them in this story.  (See above — requirements for books when I travel.)

While the ending is a bit predictable, and sometimes the characters were either a bit all-too-good or all-bad, but this historical romance was a fun read with a beautiful setting and compelling story line.

Good vacation reading.

 

 

 

Readable Piffle

Now here’s a book rating system I really like.

Lifetime reader, Stefanie Dreyfuss, used her own personal system of book rating abbreviations, and it’s totally inspired and brutally honest.

 

Here’s her delightful rating system:

Author Lauren Tarshis, Dreyfuss’ daughter-in-law, shared her discovery of Dreyfuss’ codes as she sorted through her belongings after Dreyfuss’s death last week at the age of 96. 

I think I would have really liked this lovely lady, and without question, I’ll be pilfering her rating system

Excerpted from BuzzFeed.  Full article HERE.

 

In a Dark, Dark Wood by Ruth Ware

Remember the old, creepy nursery rhyme?

In the dark, dark wood, There was a dark, dark house.

And in the dark, dark house, there was a dark, dark room.

And in the dark, dark room, There was a dark, dark cupboard.

And in the dark, dark cupboard, There was a dark dark shelf.

And on the dark, dark shelf, There was a dark, dark box.

And in the dark, dark box,  there was a big white ghost!

With this rhyme as it’s preface, I knew this book was going to be scary and — well — dark.  I saved In a Dark, Dark Wood for the plane home from Europe.   Turns out it was the perfect antidote for the mind-numbing flight.  Here’s the blurb from the book:

When reclusive writer Leonora (Nora) is invited to a hen party (British for bachelorette party)  in an eerie glass house deep in the English countryside, she reluctantly agrees to make the trip. But as the first night falls, revelations unfold among friends old and new and a haunting realization creeps in—they are not alone in the woods.

Forty-eight hours later, Nora wakes up in a hospital bed injured but alive, with the knowledge that someone is dead. Wondering not “what happened?” but “what have I done?” she tries to piece together the events of the past weekend. Working to uncover secrets, reveal motives, and find answers, Nora must revisit parts of herself that she would much rather leave buried where they belong: in the past.

Creepy and yes, dark  — this is pure thriller enjoyment — complete with an Agatha Christie-ish limited list of suspects, much Gothic foreshadowing, and a story line that twists and turns.   Like all good mysteries, the reader is challenged to piece together all the elements —  who, what, where, when, how and why. I had figured out some of it, but was surprised by the final tying up of loose ends.

Ms. Ware has crafted a perfectly creepy setting — a cold, modern glass house that looks out a large forest– a “wood” which looms dark, large and menacing throughout.

The characters were engaging and the story moved at a steady, never once bored, pace.  I must admit that I didn’t find the book to be the scary read promised —  to me it was just creepy — which is plenty for me.  (I’m still recovering from reading my one and only Stephen King novel back in my teens.)  In a Dark, Dark Wood was an easy read that kept me engaged for hours.

I wasn’t a fan of Ms. Ware’s other book The Woman in Cabin 10, but this, her first novel published in 2015 — is much better.

Recommended for your summer reading list– especially if you have a long plane journey ahead of you.

And, guess what folks, Reese Witherspoon is developing In a Dark, Dark Wood it into a film.

A digital review copy was kindly provided by Gallery/Scout Press via Netgalley.

No! I Don’t Want to Join a Book Club by Virginia Ironside

A joke birthday gift from a friend, No! I Don’t Want to Join a Book Club languished on my shelf for several years now.  I plucked it out the other evening, needing a break from a serious read.

Virginia Ironside is a British humor writer well known for her writings about getting older.   She’s also an agony aunt (British for advice columnist) with a column in the Independent, and once had a one-woman show,’Growing Old Disgracefully’.

In this novel/fictionalized diary, Marie has just turned sixty and decides to chronicle her life. Often funny, sometimes a bit sad, and usually snarky, this book has a cover blurb that calls it an AARP-issued ‘Bridget Jones Diary’.  

She has a curmudgeonly outlook on growing old gracefully,

~~ or not:

The thing is: I don’t want to join a book group to keep young and stimulated.  I don’t want to be young and stimulated anymore.

I’ve done fascinated, I’ve done curious.  I want to wind down,  I want to have the blissful relief of not being interested.  Like being able to spend a day doing nothing instead of being obliged to cram it with diversionary activity to avoid guilt and anxiety.

Ms. Ironside uses the diary format to up the humor.  She calls memory lapses CRAFT moments  —  as in ‘can’t remember a f***ing thing’.  She journals about a party discussion wherein no one can remember an actress’s name from a famous film.   Then two days later, this appears as the single entry, ‘Glenn Close’.

Here she argues with a friend, who talks about getting older as a time to have adventures and learn new things:  Marie just wants to put her feet up and ‘start doing old things’.

That’s what’s so great about getting old. You no longer have to think about going to university, or go bungee jumping. It’s a huge release! I’ve been feeling guilty about not learning another language for most of my adult life. At last I find that now, being old, I don’t have to! There aren’t enough years left to speak it. It’d be pointless!

Marie’s life is constantly changing and evolving, there’s the arrival of a grandson, and the loss of some dear friends.   And, although she hasn’t had sex in five years, she doesn’t lose sleep over it. She’s thinking of giving it up – unless a nice, rich and attractive crush from her childhood can change her mind.

This novel is an honest look at life as we age and, at times, I found it both touching and humorous.

However, half way through, the journal format starts to loose it’s charm and her continued grumpy treatises on the same points became tiresome.

Ms. Ironside has much more to say about being old (sorry, older) as there are two other books the Marie series all with equally funny titles:  No I Don’t Need Reading Glasses and No Thanks, I’m Quite Happy Standing.

The title cracked me up, but sadly No! I Don’t Want to Join a Bookclub got put aside unfinished.  Marie (and the author) would be OK with that, she would understand and give me a high five — it’s our age –we don’t have to finish a book or go bungee jumping.

 

N.B.:  While we’re on the subject of humorous essays on aging, I found Nora Ephron’s “I Feel Bad About my Neck” and “I Remember Nothing” ever so much better, and well worth whatever free time you have when not learning Swahili.

The Chinese Shawl by Patricia Wentworth

Where I have been that I’d never read any Miss Silver mysteries? Naturally, I was aware of this series and even have had one on my shelf for ages.  But not until my friend (and devoted Book Barmy fan), Sally mentioned this series, did I crack open The Chinese Shawl.

But first a trip down memory lane.  If you want to get right to the book you can skip this.  But, you’ll miss a good story.

Let me take a moment to tell you about Sally.  Sally is my mother’s best friend. They met in the 1960’s through a babysitting club where young parents on a budget exchanged free babysitting.   I’ve now forgotten the nameless mothers (and sometimes fathers) who came to babysit when my parents went out.  Except one — Sally, who came over in black Capri pants and a red sweater.  Sally exuded Glamour with a capital G.  Beautifully coiffed hair, dramatic eye makeup framing brilliant aquamarine eyes, and she smelled really good — I think it may have been Chanel No. 5.  Sally brought exciting new-to-us books from her own children’s library.  My little brother and I snuggled up next to this exotic creature as she read aloud.

Sally was, and still is, a cross between Elizabeth Taylor and Mary Poppins.  Turns out her daughter was my age, she had a son my brother’s age and two other little ones who were my littlest sister’s age.  Her husband and my father shared a love of cars and woodworking.  So our families soon became close and we all grew up together in the suburbs of D. C.

To this day, Sally, my mother and I share a secret love of cozy mysteries both on TV (yes, Murder She Wrote – don’t judge) and on the written page (talking about you, Dame Agatha Christie).  The other day Sally sent an email admitting she had binged watched some old Murder She Wrotes and while embarrassed, they got her out of a funk.  She went on to say that she greatly admired Patricia Wentworth’s Miss Silver series on whom it is reputed Agatha Christie stole based her own Miss Marple character.  I remembered my mother also admired the Miss Silver series, so I rummaged through my piles of books book collection until I found The Chinese Shawl and dove right in.

This is the story of Laura Fane, whose parents died while she was quite young and left her a historic estate called The Priory. Laura didn’t have the funds required  to maintain The Priory, so was forced to lease it to her wealthy Aunt Agnes. Now that Laura has turned 21 and gained her inheritance she has come to the Priory to determine if she wants to inhabit or sell it to her Aunt Agnes and her other niece Tanis Lyle.  Laura soon discovers  there is family bitterness over old wounds, and this bitterness is personified most strongly by Tanis Lyle. Tanis is known for stealing other women’s  boyfriends, then unceremoniously dumping them.  We soon realize that Tanis has many enemies who could happily kill her.   And dead she turns up.  

As it happens, Miss Maud Silver, amateur detective is already a guest at the Priory.   And, the Superintendent sent to investigate the murder was a young charge of Miss Silver when she was a governess.  So the investigation proceeds with lively exchanges between these two. Miss Silver gently chiding her “dear Randall” over his hasty judgments and guiding his efforts — all while clicking away on her knitting needles.  The Priory setting is beautifully rendered and Laura is a nicely developed character.  There are plenty of suspects from jilted boyfriends, to angry ex-girlfriends, to a pilfering maid. 

As all this is going on, Laura is falling in love with a handsome war veteran and one of Tanis’s discards.   It’s a old-fashioned 1920’s style courtship but Ms. Wentworth adds just the right bit of heavy breathing   Just read this exchange between the couple as they first fall for each other:

“I shouldn’t be surprised if it meant that we were falling in love.”

She changed colour, but the change was to white, not red.  She looked for a moment as if she had been shocked right out of her senses.  There was a rushing around in her ears like water, like great waves.  And then Carey saying her name urgently

“Laura – what’s the matter?”

“I – don’t  – know”

Then he saw the colour come back and her lips begin to tremble.

“Laura are you alright?”

“Yes, she said.”  He was holding both her hands.

“Would you mind if I fell in love with you?  Because I’m going to.”

“You’ve only got to look me in the eye and say you don’t want me to fall in love with you.”

Laura’s tongue was suddenly loosened  “What would you do if I did?”

He said, “Fall a little deeper.”

I was totally engaged by this splendid mystery. The suspects are characters in and of themselves.  I enjoyed them all, but also tried ascertain their motives, could they have done the deed?    There’s some great writing, such as this small passage:

It was the entry of Lucy Adams which broke the tension.  Flushed with hurry, on the edge of being late, clanking with chains, bangles and assorted brooches, she plunged into the midst of the situation without the slightest idea that it existed.

I had a great time with Miss Silver and the Superintendent, as we solved the crime — actually they solved it — I still hadn’t quite figured out in the end.

Stereotypical? Certainly.  Similar to Miss Marple series? Of course.

I’ve learned the 1920’s Miss Silver series, while lesser known than Ms. Christie’s, set the standard for cozy mysteries solved in old estates, with lots of fun characters, cups of tea, and charming old (OK Older) ladies who knit.

Count me in any day.

A Lowcountry Heart by Pat Conroy

Have I told your about Pat Conroy?  I’m a card-carrying adoring fan. 

Mr. Conroy wrote books unlike anyone else, he was a magician storyteller and wove tales that explored the many layers of human nature. Fearless in his writing, his perfect wording could give any character or life event a voice — the frail families of the old South, uncertain love, the angst of loyal and betrayed friendship, the pain of suicide, and the infinity of human flaws  — really, just awe-inspiring.

Cancer took him quickly in 2016, at age 70.

A Lowcountry Heart is a collection of his blog entries, articles, speeches and letters but also contains writings and eulogies by those that loved him.  But fear not, this slender volume never treads into the saccharine, but instead is a joyful reflection of his life and times. Mr. Conroy shares his time in Vietnam, teachers in his life, his beloved Citadel, his adored second wife, and of course his love for the South Carolina lowcountry –the lifeblood of his books and his life.

When his publishers advised him that he should start a blog, Mr. Conroy hated the idea but then took it as a challenge. He used it as both a journal and a way to reach out to his readers. His blog posts always began with “Hey out there,” and closed with “Great love…”.

Unlike many authors Mr. Conroy loved book tours and especially meeting with his readers.

It (book tours) is part of the covenant I sign with Doubleday that I’ll do everything possible to help the sell the book, including not getting drunk on tour or embarrassing my publishing company with my cutting-up on the road. I go out to sell books and it has become one of the greatest things about being a writer during my lifetime. No writer should turn down the chance of meeting the readers of his work.

His book signings often went late into the night because he wanted to speak personally, and at length, with each reader. They opened up to Mr. Conroy because he asked, “so, what’s your story?”.  (I wonder what story I would’ve told…)

Mr. Conroy could have easily been a Southern ‘good old boy’, but it turns out he was a role model of humanity and progressiveness.  He actively supported racial equality, even having a public meeting with Dr. Martin Luther King at a time when race was still a heated issue in southern society.  On learning that a stranger and fellow southerner was dying of AIDS, Conroy went to be at his side so he wouldn’t die alone. Once, accidentally in a gay bar, he danced with a man because his mother raised him not to hurt anyone’s feelings.

His wife and fellow author, Cassandra King  wrote the introduction to A Lowcountry Heart — a beautiful piece of writing I read several times.

The book also contains his 2001 Citadel commencement speech — I’ll just say, I found myself trying to read it through my tears.

Mr. Conroy is likely best known for his books (and the films based on his books);  The Lords of Discipline, The Prince of Tides and  The Great Santini. 

But instead, get thee to your favorite library or bookstore read my favorites; The River is Wide, Beach Music, and South of Broad. 

I’ll leave you with this, perhaps the most compelling part of this collection; Mr. Conroy is buried on a small island off the coast of South Carolina , in a modest cemetery of a Gullah Baptist church among a community that “graciously allowed a non-Baptist, non-African American writer to rest among them.”

 

A digital review copy was kindly provided by Doubleday Books/Nan A. Talese via NetGalley