Thrillers are not my go-to reading genre, but I do like them when traveling. The tedious airplane trips especially call for a good page-turner. My only thriller requirement is that it has to be well written with good reviews.
I chose the The Kind Worth Killing because the Washington Post said “it should be a contender for crime fiction’s best first novel of 2014.” It has also been compared to Gone Girl, a thriller which I really admired (the film, not so much). This is a modern re-imagining of Patricia Highsmith’s 1950 classic thriller, Strangers on a Train, but trust me, with many different and unique twists.
The flight from London to Boston is delayed and Lily, a young beautiful woman sits down next to Ted and as alcohol loosens his tongue, he tells her about his cheating wife. It turns out they are on the same flight and arrange to sit next to each other. By the end of the flight and more discussion, Lily says:
Truthfully, I don’t think murder is necessarily as bad as people make it out to be. Everyone dies. What difference does it make if a few bad apples get pushed along a little sooner than God intended? And your wife, for example, seems like the kind worth killing.
At first, it is very, very similar to “Strangers on a Train” but about a third of the way through The Kind Worth Killing takes some jaw-dropping twists and turns, and things get more and more complicated. (turns out murder is really hard, you guys.)
The novel uses alternating narratives of the main characters, and it switches between past and current timelines. Mr. Swanson does this masterfully, using the past narratives to provide details, previous connections and clues. At the same time, he manages to hold back enough specifics to keep you guessing on how everything is going to end.
The writing never feels gimmicky or contrived. Every time I thought I knew where it was going, more twists would happen but the writing kept it natural and soberly real. What I found most enjoyable, was when the layers were peeled back to reveal more information about each character, and new ones were introduced.
It’s a game of cat and mouse…but just who is the cat and who is the mouse? My head was spinning – who is the killer? Who is the victim? Is there anyone you can trust?
I was shocked at the ending, and read it twice. I did not see it coming and the story ends a far cry from what I expected…hmmmm.
And I think I will stop here, and not reveal anything further so I don’t spoil it for you. Because if you like thrillers, or need a good vacation read – you must read A Kind Worth Killing.
And because I will never learn…
There is a second in this series, which I hope picks up where this left off.
And another to add to my list — Mr. Swanson also wrote The Girl with a Clock for a Heart—which the Washington Post raves, “should be a contender for crime fiction’s best first novel of 2014.”
Yes, two more books to add to my pile – it’s a sickness I tell you, but I don’t need or want help…Okay?
Our dear friends’ dream has come true. For 25+ years these friends have dreamed of moving to France and when they recently became empty-nesters, it was time to start seriously figuring it all out. They’ve spent many hours looking at hundreds and hundreds of homes on-line, and finally landed on (and bought) an old stone house in the countryside of France. The house needs some serious renovations, but it’s all theirs and with a combination of trepidation and giddy excitement, they gave notice to their landlord, quit jobs, and are packing up.
They won’t get a car, trains will take them long distances and bicycles for shorter trips. Their village (and yes, it is a small village) has all they require, a shop, a bakery, a hardware store, a bar, and a cafe – all a short walk down the main street. They plan to have a vegetable garden, currently buried in the overgrown yard. Their french is improving every day as they practice. We are so excited for them and they leave in just a few weeks.
Books (you knew this would turn to books) on this very same subject are legion and I’ve read many (as have my friends). So I thought I would share some here – in case you, too, are dreaming of a move to France.
Peter Mayle is probably the best known author of such memoirs and novels. They are a delight and worth picking up any of them at book sales or the library.
Then there is this series by Janine Marsh which I haven’t read, but are on my Kindle. Notice how similar the covers – they paint such an idyllic and charming picture of life in France. These look fun and I’ll get to them someday.
I read The French House years ago and passed it on to our francophile friends. This is an enchanting account of a family that tackles a house in rubbles, wins the hearts of a historic village, and finally finds the home they’ve been seeking off the wild coast of France.
The Olive Farmby Carol Drinkwater was another good read. Written by the famed actress from All Creatures Great and Small, this warm and funny memoir takes the reader from the glamour of Cannes to the sunny charm of their small plot of land, which they back breakingly transform from overgrown weeds into a thriving olive farm producing some of the finest olive oil in Provence.
Of course, one of my favorites is My Life in France, a brilliant journey with Julia Child — to read this book is to be right with her in France — tasting the food, smelling the baking bread, walking on the French cobblestones and embracing it all with Julia’s delight and gusto. Full review HERE.
French Dirt is a very fun and different memoir on moving to France and, yes, starting a garden. Part travelogue, part gardener’s journal, part pilgrimage and wholly enjoyable. What sets this tale apart from the plethora of “my life in France” books, is that Richard is such a hapless American on so many levels. His plans for his garden, forming friendships with the locals, and settling in to a new life often go awry.
You’ll chuckle and wince as he binge-buys plants and tries to sort out conflicting advice from the villagers — but then you cheer as he toils and worries over his garden, delights in its growth and is distraught by his garden disasters — all while the neighbors politely hide their amusement at the silly American.
And then there was the wonderfully quirky documentary series , Escape to the Chateau, which follows a British family as they trade in their two-bed apartment in Essex for a dilapidated 19th-century French chateau. Upon finding their fairytale castle, the pair begin work to restore it back to its former glory.
Bon Voyage Mes Amis~~ off to live your dream come true
N.B. They often asked if we would join them on this wonderful French venture, but we’ve already warned them that we’ll be frequent guests. Our dream came true 40 years ago when moved to San Francisco and found our little row house out here by the ocean.
We don’t go downtown much anymore – since the pandemic and our own little neighborhood sprouting with good cafes, shops, bakeries and the farmer’s market on Sundays – there’s no reason. However, we updated some legal documents and needed to sign them in person at our lawyer’s office – you guessed it – downtown. So we dug out our transit cards and hopped on our public transport.
Husband had a great idea – lunch at Tadich Grill – a very special place, and located right on the cable car line – it’s the real San Francisco treat.
You see, Tadich’s opened in 1849, and is the oldest running restaurant in California.
Now, I know you folks on the East Coast and Europe undoubtedly have much older places, I’m thinking of Durgan Park in Boston and almost any pub in the UK – but for us this is a piece of history.
I used to work right across the street (see brown building to the right above) and many a time I would join co-workers and grab seats at the counter. And, if I remember, martinis were involved – it was the 80’s.
But this day Husband and I got a proper table, right in the window, with fresh starched table linen.
Many of the waiters have been there forever and they wear long starched aprons and range from fun to surly. All part of the experience.
Tadich’s has had never closed since their opening, but had to shut down during Covid for 55 weeks and, like so many other eating establishments, many of us feared it might not re-open.
I am happy to report it is back and bustling.
I never take photos of our food when out eating (we put phones away) but because this was the first time we’d been here since it was closed down, I decided to make an exception — everyone else was. Tadich’s is known for its seafood – so we both had fish – locally caught and very very good. I think it’s all in the butter sauces.
If you’re coming to San Francisco, this is a must – and happy to say — reservations recommended
I very much enjoy reading and learning about history through fiction. The few non-fiction history books I’ve read were quite worthy, but I’ll admit, a struggle. I decided to finally read this much-touted historical novel which the publisher kindly sent me two years ago .
The novel revolves around early 20th-century Colorado mine workers and their struggles to unionize.
Hmm, I thought, this could be really interesting part of American history, of which I know nothing about.
The Gilded Mountain is set in a 1907, and opens with the Pelletier family’s treacherous journey from the east to Colorado to join their father who has secured work in a mine. Sylvie, her mother and two brothers travel through winter storms and rough terrain until they reach Moonstone Colorado, the mining town where they reunite with their father.
Once there Sylvie and her family endure hunger and dismal living conditions in a company-owned shack. Her father faces the dangerous conditions working in the marble mine and like the other workers, struggle for the paltry wages that are eaten up by rent and sparse food. Often the workers are not paid at all. Thus begins the roots of the Colorado mine workers labor movement.
As we follow Sylvie she first gets hired as the personal secretary to the mine owner’s wife and spends a summer observing the gilded life that the other half lives. The next summer, she gets a job with the town newspaper and begins to report and write about the mine labor issues and their attempts to form a mine workers union. She finds herself falling for Jace, the idealistic son of the mine owner, as well as George, a union organizer. Sylvie struggles with what to do with her life and her heart.
Still with me? Well good for you, because even trying to write about this book – I’m bored. And that’s exactly what happened with this novel. Oh readers, I wanted to like it, and the first half of the book was good, absorbing the reader in the grim realities of the Pelletier family trying to just survive just a day, a week — in the mining camp. The author does a nice job of settings – the descriptions of the dazzling white marble being mined by overworked miners, in unsafe conditions, often without pay, really stuck out.
But eventually it dawned on me, I had been putting this book down, and reading it became more and more laborious — I was bored, disinterested and had been forcing myself to keep on reading – but why?
Truth be told, I did not care a wit about any of the one-dimensional characters, I kept expecting more development – more depth to any of them. Sylvie became especially unbearable. But a bright spot before I left the book was Mother Mary Harris Jones — yes that Mother Jones – a force to be reckoned with. She marched and protested for the miners, with great energy and despite her ancient age. Her dialogue was snappy and real, but not enough to keep me reading.
There are racial issues brought up in the story line, even including quotes from one of the black writers of the time, W.E B. DuBois. But while racial conflicts had great consequences during this time – it felt forced into this story line.
Although I would have liked to know how everything ended, I looked at my pile of un-read books and thought this low key boredom is not why I read.
What did I take away from what I did read?
The Gilded Mountain is a stark treatise on the harsh life of miners in early 20th Century and I learned a bit about mining, union organizing and busting, entitled rich and the ways they kept their workers desperately poor.
But none of it had any real soul. I should have read a history book.
N.B. You all know how much I dislike bashing books and their authors and I truly recognize all the pain, work and dedication it takes to write and publish a book. But I have to be honest about my (and only my) assessment. Others obviously disagree — there are many rave reviews for this book — but well – that’s what makes the world go ’round.
There are plenty of other books and stories out in the world — many of them here at Book Barmy headquarters.
I’m off to start something new.
A digital review copy of The Gilded Mountainwas kindly provided by Scribner via Netgalley
It has been rainy and windy, my garden daffodils got pelted, and I was gloomy. So, as usual, I turned to my book shelves searching for something springlike.
I found this book, which I read ages ago — it even had my notes written up inside. I decided to revisit The Language of Flowers and ended up re-reading the entire book – ignoring the other stack of books awaiting me.
The novel follows Victoria Jones, a young woman who grew up in foster care system. Emotionally damaged by being abandoned at birth and childhood abuse, she is unable to maintain healthy relationships. She chooses self-destructing behavior and pushes herself away from those who might care.
Her one true connection is to flowers, and as a flower arranger, Victoria realizes she has a gift for helping others through the flowers she chooses for them. Each plant and flower holds a meaning and when placed skillfully and precisely in an arrangement, conveys deep meaning. The novel was inspired by a flower dictionary, a type of Victorian-era book which defines what different types of flowers mean (more on that at the end).
Victoria is flawed, insecure and yet strong — an often quite unlikeable. Nevertheless, she stole my heart from the beginning and I grew to empathize and love her more with each page. There were times when I just wanted to yell at her to wake up and get a grip. And, just when I thought she wouldn’t, she did just that. I truly enjoyed following Victoria’s journey. The characters and relationships that surround and shape her are complex and layered. Many of Victoria’s personal choices had me shaking my head, but as I re-read this fine novel,I found I was rooting for her to find her true happiness and contentment.
The flowers and their meanings are not just a gimmick of the novel — they add much depth and feelings to the story.
“I’m talking about the language of flowers. It’s from the Victorian era, like your name. If a man gave a young lady a bouquet of flowers, she would race home and try to decode it like a secret message. Red roses mean love; yellow roses infidelity. So a man would have to choose his flowers carefully.”
The Language of Flowers, offers a story of survival, strength and love, and it made my heart smile.
N.B. As I finished the book, I remembered a book in my gardening section (Yes, no surprise here, I have collections/and sections in my shelves.) someone in a former book group gave me this little gem. I put it next to my stack of books I plan to read – just to dip into – fascinating.
And our author, Ms. Diffenbaugh, has written the introduction to modern and updated take on this Victorian classic – but, I will stick with my cherished version above.
Only once was I able to visit Powell’s Bookstore in Portland, Oregon — the largest independent bookstore in the world. Husband and I were there on a short holiday to see the gardens (beautiful), explore the city (nice), and of course this infamous bookstore. Husband took a long look at the sign, then saw my astounded and delighted face — and decided he would retreat to a bar across the street to watch the basketball playoffs. It’s still a wonder that he puts up with me.
It was a wonderful hour or so just exploring and browsing. But, we had flown up to Portland for a long weekend, with only two small bags, so I had to limit my purchases to what I (and/or Husband) could carry. In the end, I showed up at the bar with tired feet and just a small bag of books.
These books were part of that haul:
These are the first two in a series of orchid murder mysteries set in Dordogne region of south west France. I read the first, Deadly Slipper immediately upon returning from out trip, but the second one, Orchid Shroud, has long waited patiently on my shelves, unread…
I went back and skimmed through the first to remind myself what the mystery was about and soon I was re-reading entire chapters. I found my notes in the back of the book, so will tell you this all about this well-written and unique mystery
Deadly Slipper by Michelle Wan
In the Dordogne in the south west of France, Mara Dunn is trying to find out what happened to her twin sister, Bedie, who disappeared nineteen years earlier. While it is a long shot, Mara needs to find out what happened to her sister and get on with her life.
Beatrice “Bede” Dunn was fascinated with wild orchids and wild orchid hunting, and became passionate about documenting the existence the breeding grounds of a particular species. In 1984 she and her boyfriend, Scott, went on a hiking and orchid hunting holiday in the Dordogne. When it began to rain, the couple had an argument about whether to leave their camp and seek shelter elsewhere or to stay put. Bede was adamant about remaining and so she did – alone. When Scott returned two days later the tent and their things were still at the campsite, but Bede was gone, along with her camera, backpack, Michelin guide and a book on wildflowers and orchids. No one ever saw the young woman again. After a massive search and investigation, which garnered much publicity, no evidence of foul play was discovered as there was no body, no crime scene.
Mara has found a loaded camera that she believed was owned by her sister, and had the deteriorated film processed and prints made. She has come to the Dordogne area to consult with orchid expert Julian Wood to see if he is able to identify the locations shown in the photos. The police have already told Mara that there is not enough identifying features in the photos, but she is determined to learn the truth.
Julian feels there is no chance of finding where these photos were taken, let alone finding Bedie, but he is fascinated with the final photo – a photo of Cypripedium – Sabot de Venus in French, sometimes called Lady’s Slipper in English. Julian becomes motivated to begin a search as Mara, but for different reasons. And since this rare wild orchid does not grow in the Dordogne, or anywhere in Europe, he has his own mystery to unravel – and he decides to become involved with Mara and her investigation.This extremely rare orchid could not be growing in this area — yet there it is, clearly photographed.
Not only a good literary mystery, Deadly Slipper was a really a fun book to read. Filled with an exotic cast of characters – from the local bogeyman and his mother, who is even scarier than her son, to the bizarre Sauvignac family, (the local nobility), to an indifferent French police inspector, to Julian Wood’s fanatic orchid hunting nemesis, and the regulars down at Chez Nous, the town’s cafe/bar/gourmet restaurant. The narrative surrounding the orchids are fascinating, and then there’s the food, wine and the gorgeous countryside – the setting is totally realistic and French.
Ms. Wan is a fascinating person as well. She was born in Kunming, China, grew up in the United States, and has lived in India, England, France and Brazil. She and her husband, a tropical horticulturalist, visit the Dordogne annually to photograph and chart wild orchids.
One day in southwest France Ms. Wan found her first wild orchid, and thus orchids and murder came together in the Death in the Dordogne series.
So, I’ve decided to keep these books, and put the second one Orchid Shroud on my staggering TBR file. But first I have to finish one – at least one — of the three books I’m currently reading (see previous post).
There are still two more in the Death in the Dordogne series ~~perhaps? maybe? should I?
I’d love to tell you about a book I’ve finished, but regretfully, I have none to share. It’s not that I’m not reading — I am! But I’ve got myself reading several books at the same time, so my book completion rate is nil.
I did wander into my local bookshop the other day, ducking out of the rain before meeting a friend for lunch. I didn’t buy anything (see my quandary above) but I did admire this very clever display for Valentines day.
It got me thinking about how creative booksellers have to be. Not only keeping displays fresh, but also coming up with events. Every week, my local bookshop hosts a children’s reading hour, a knitting night, open poetry readings, and of course, lots of author readings – lots of work to sell a book or two or three.
Kepler’s Bookstore once had a display called Blind Date with a Book which looked something like this:
I wonder how many customers actually buy books blind, I’m not sure I would, but it is a very creative idea.
There’s funny displays based on customer questions ~~
Scary and spooky Halloween reading recommendations:
And a great idea for around the holidays, a perfect gift for a reader on your list — a series of books, a book for each day of Hanukah or a book a day advent calendar.
Perhaps I’ll start planning my bookish gift list now.
But enough distraction, back to the pile of books I’m currently reading…
They’re all so different that I can read in and out of each without confusion…depending on my mood. But then again, I’m barmy.
BARMY: British • informal 1. marked by spirited enjoyment
2. informal or slang term for mentally irregular
Origin late 15th century
It’s not that I don’t like people. It’s just when I’m in the company of others, even my nearest and dearest, there always comes a moment when I’d rather be reading a book.
