P&P Part 2

Death Comes to Pemberley by P.D. James

This is a tall order: Write a sequel to Pride and Prejudice, and throw in a murder. If anyone could do it justice, it’s P.D. James. And I think she does.

But still, I was a wee bit disappointed. Which actually makes me feel like a dreadful ingrate, because the book’s darn good and decently captures the feeling of both P & P and a decent historical mystery.

I’m not sure, really, what I found lacking. I think maybe I just feel like it’s somewhat bogus when anyone (even Baroness James herself) deigns to write a sequel to a classic. There’s something in me that just kind of looks askance on such a thing, even when I know it’s been done by an expert.

OK, so enough about that.

The mystery in the book is this: Mr. Denny, Wickham’s sidekick, ends up dead in the Pemberley woods. And that’s decidedly not OK, because Pemberley is meant to be all that is good and calm and decent. And it appears that the horrid Wickham has murdered his friend (heck, he even confesses).

And then the investigation and trial begin… and there were moments where I actually had the feeling I was reading an Anne Perry novel (during the trial at the Old Bailey). This isn't a bad thing, just odd. 

There are some surprises in the story, which is always a fine thing in a mystery, and it all made sense and rang true and did all the things a sequel is meant to do.

But still. I’m only mostly satisfied. 

Rules for reading

When someone tells me there are Rules for reading, I can get all tense and testy and teeth-clenched. I'm usually not like that, so it's a sign that I'm truly having a difficult time with a concept when that kind of response happens.

But when I read that these are the rules, I'm completely OK with it. 

John Cotton Dana’s 12 Rules for Reading

1. Read.

2. Read.

3. Read some more.

4. Read anything.

5. Read about everything.

6. Read enjoyable things.

7. Read things you yourself enjoy.

8. Read, and talk about it.

9. Read very carefully, some things.

10. Read on the run, most things.

11. Don’t think about reading, but

12. Just read.

I caught this over at Stephen's Lighthouse, a wonderful place to visit. 

The war is over

A House Reunited: How America Survived the Civil War by Jay Winik

It really doesn’t get any better than this. Cruising in the car (OK, commuting) and listening to a born storyteller talk about a topic you find fascinating. Truly, this is good.

Many years back, I went through a Civil War phase that eventually waned. But occasionally I have a flare-up of the old condition, and this series of lectures about the Civil War’s final months was just the ticket.

(The Modern Scholar series: Why am I late to the party on this? I’ve known about them for years, and yet it’s only now that I dive in. I can be a strange creature.)

Winik is the author of the book April 1865: The Month That Saved America, which made a good-sized splash when it was released. And he’s one heck of a good lecturer. He’s got an almost preacherly cadence (preacherly, meaning: lyrical, not didactic) that drew me right in. Also, he does this thing where he says, “Picture this scene if you will…” and then he’ll describe the situation so clearly that you can indeed visualize it. It’s a good tactic.

So this audio series is all about the way the end of the Civil War was kind of a mini-miracle—that things worked out as well as they did (given how horrible things were), and how close things were to not working out at all. It’s actually a bit chilling.

I mean, most of us know the story of the Lee’s surrender to Grant at Appomattox. And then shortly thereafter, Lincoln was assassinated. We all know that. But the thing I sure didn’t realize was that the South was considering launching into guerrilla warfare when they realized they could no longer win a conventional war. Yikes, guys. It coulda happened that way.

And if Lincoln hadn’t been all “With malice toward none, with charity for all…” we likely would’ve ended up with a country that never came back together fully.

Here’s a quote from Robert E. Lee that I really think will stick with me: “I surrendered as much to Lincoln’s goodness as I did to Grant’s armies.”

It really hits a person that so much depends on the decisions and the character and the temperament of a few key historic figures, and if any of those variables had been different, things could’ve gone so very wrong.

Seriously, thank goodness for those humans and their wisdom. 

DNF: Quitting a series

Breakdown by Sara Paretsky

Why do I keep reading V.I. Warshawski books? Why?

I wonder, because each time I start a new one, I remember that I really find Paretsky’s (or is it Warshawski’s?) tone annoyingly self-righteous. I really have a hard time getting over that.

In fact, I think I may have bailed out of the previous book in this series, but this one… this one I decided to finish.*

And I think that ties in to the reason I’ve attempted to keep reading this series: Paretsky can craft a mighty fine mystery. I like her plots just fine.

I’m just annoyed—annoyed!—that the rich people are always evil and the poor people are always noble. And Warshawski will defend—to the death, if necessary!—those poor people from those rich ones.

Nuance? Not so much.

It just bugs.

It also really makes me appreciate Sue Grafton and Kinsey Millhone all the more. I’m serious.

*So, yeah. I bailed out about halfway through. Life is short, you know? 

Downton-esque

The House at Riverton by Kate Morton

Well, that was lucky.

I wouldn’t’ve read this book except that it was assigned reading.

And I’m actually glad I read it. It’s one of those.

The happy coincidence to the timing of my reading this book is that I (like half the planet) just finished watching the second season of Downton Abbey, which is also set in a humungo English country house in the early 1900s. 

One of the things people either love or hate about this book is that it actually starts in the current day, with an elderly woman named Grace remembering back to her days as a lady’s maid at Riverton. So there are flashbacks. I actually love the whole flashback thing in a book, especially when it’s one of those end-of-life flashback situations (like in Penelope Lively’s Moon Tiger and Susan Minot’s Evening).

It’s clear from the start that all hell broke loose (are you listening, Elmore?) at some point way back when, because there was a big honking scandal, and now a filmmaker is making a movie about it. So Grace is forced to face the ugly old truth again for the first time in eons.

So then we flit back in time to the days just before WWI, when the rich and entitled (and titled) were toodling around their grand estates, and poor young Grace was a clueless new housemaid. And it’s a pretty darn good little story, as long as you can tolerate all those young, beautiful, entitled sorts. (They can be a bit hard to stomach.) It helps a lot that we're hearing the story from the perspective of the former maid, because she's more down with the people, you know?

I actually liked the last page best. Not because the book was over (I’m not being snide!) but because of the way it reveals the way everything went so very wrong… and how things also turned out so well for Grace. 

Recommended as a remedy for Downton withdrawal. 

Reading and forgetting

OK, is anyone else like this? You read something, and then a year later... it's all a blur.

I swear, it's weird.

I caught this article in Publishers Weekly, and it really resonated.

At least it's not just me.

The one mercy is that typically I retain enough of a sense of the feel of a book that I can use it as a basis for read-alikes for reader's advisory purposes.

But a year later, if you ask me whodunit in a mystery, I'll be clueless.
If you ask me to name the main characters in a novel I read... not a chance.
A detailed plot summary? Oh, man...

Though-- The blog actually really helps with the remembering part, even though I remain rather feeble on the details about books from more than a year ago. Something about writing about a book cements it a bit better in this poor little brain of mine.

Little Rock

Elizabeth and Hazel: Two Women of Little Rock by David Margolick

If this book were a novel, I wouldn’t’ve believed the plausibility of the story. But instead, it’s true, so you really have to accept the twists and turns. And this book has plenty of that stuff going on.

Many of us recognize the famous photo. It’s one of those things you wish weren’t real, but it is, and it’s important that we face it. Here it is:

(photo credit: Will Counts; Indiana University Archives)

So this book is the story of Elizabeth Eckford, one of the Little Rock Nine who integrated Central High School, and Hazel Bryan Massery, the girl jeering Elizabeth in the photo.

It’s clear from the start that somehow they meet again later in life, and it seems like there was some sort of reconciliation.

And when I got to that part of the book—as older adults, they were chatty friends who attended flower shows together!—it really seemed too good to be true.

And, of course, it was.

The friendship lasted several months, and then things got uncomfortable and tense, and they stopped speaking.  

Much about this book was sad and sobering.

I really thought Elizabeth Eckford would turn out to have a great life—becoming a professor or something like that. She was bookish as a girl. But it turns out her life served up a whole bunch of bad stuff to her, and that takes its toll, and her life was rather rocky.

And then there’s Hazel. She apologized to Elizabeth later in life, but that didn’t actually make things better in the end, and it’s unclear whether she ever completely understood how she had hurt Elizabeth all those years ago.

More complex and nuanced than it appears at first glance. 

On the Vanity Fair website, you can read Margolick's fine article about the two women.

More good guys, please

SEAL Target Geronimo: The Inside Story of the Mission to Kill Osama Bin Laden by Chuck Pfarrer

Sometimes I do really weird reader behavior things. Example: When I picked up this book, I opened it up to a random page, and I went (internally), “Eee-ooooo.” I was doing the not-so-happy sound in my mind because I didn’t like… the page margins.* That’s dumb, right?

But I’m telling you, those narrow margins made me think these two things:

1. This might just be an academic book, and if so, I’m outta here.

2. Probably the writing’s going to be deadly.

But it turned out OK. I actually started reading the book, and I discovered that the author, a former Navy SEAL himself, writes quite well. And the book was smart but not scholarly (sometimes scholarly can be agonizing—sad but true). Thank all goodness.

So, on to the book itself. I’m no bloodthirsty killer (aren’t you relieved?) but when it comes to the really, really bad guys (we’re talking Hitler, Stalin, Bin Laden—that ilk), I feel a quiet sense of relief when those dudes die.

And I like it when the good guys win.

So the one thing I didn’t like about this book was that there sure was a whole lot about Osama bin Laden. And I don’t want to read about Osama bin Laden (the Bad Guy). I want to read about Navy SEALs (the Good Guys). So while, yes, I realize some back story about bin Laden was important, it seemed to me like there was Too Much of It.

The SEALs stuff, though, was pretty amazing to read.

Here’re my favorite few sentences, which describe their launch out of the helicopter onto the roof of bin Laden’s compound: “He jumped, and his SEALs followed him, throwing themselves into a lime-colored void. They landed on the roof with a series of heavy thumps. Under the weight of their gear, several of the assaulters landed hard. They crawled to the edge of the roof and dropped onto the third-floor patio.” (p. 187)

I mean, seriously. It just makes my eyes go wide and my heart pound. ("Holy crap!" is this reader's response. [I'm very genteel like that in my head when I'm reading.])

So, yeah, my favorite parts of this book were the chapters about the SEALs and their operations, which were completely fascinating. The other stuff? I'll confess: I skimmed. 

More good guys, please. 

* Judge a book by its cover? Not me. No, I go for the page layout.

Yup, he's still my favorite

Jack Kennedy: Elusive Hero by Chris Matthews

Chris Matthews, along with Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, are heavily responsible for that political science degree of mine. Matthews’ Hardball and Woodstein’s All the President’s Men were too good to resist. I needed more.

It’s been a year or two since that first semester of college [understatement, anyone?], and I’m still hooked on this stuff.

So this new book, by Matthews, about my favorite president (even though yes, I know: Lincoln was nobler) was beyond irresistible.

It’s a glowing portrait of JFK, and I’m OK with that. 


Here’s a sense of Matthews’ take: “In searching for Jack Kennedy, I found a fighting prince never free from pain, never far from trouble, never accepting the world he found, never wanting to be his father’s son. He was a far greater hero than he ever wished us to know.” (p. 11)

Given that I’m already a Kennedyophile, those two sentences nearly did me in.  

Plus, Matthews has a fine writing style that flows right along, and you gotta like that.

Also, it was a comfort to me to read the old story* again. I’ve known the basics of JFK’s life story since way back when I was still playing with Barbies (yeah, so 4^th grade was maybe a little old for dolls, but hey). Back in those days, once I’d planted the Barbies in their dream house, I’d head for the presidential and First Lady biographies. And JFK was my fave back then, too.

So, yeah, I know the bio. Boyhood illnesses and bookishness: check. PT-109: check. Malaria and back surgeries: check. “Irish Mafia”: check.

So, I gotta say, there wasn’t too much new information here. But—the thing that sets this book apart is that Matthews incorporates snippets of interviews and memoirs of those who knew Kennedy well, and that makes it feel very fresh and somehow current.

So if you’re in the mood for an adoring biography of JFK, this book’s probably gonna do it for you.

* OK. Hymn flashback here. The phrase “the old, old story” kept running through my head while I was reading this book, which launched my brain’s secret stereo into this fine number imprinted on me during my younger years. It’s a grand old hymn that really demands to be belted out with some gusto. In keeping with the 4^th grade Barbie recollections, we’re going to hear it from the Oak Ridge Boys. Hello¸early ’80s!

(But guys? I am not suggesting that we compare JFK to Jesus. That really doesn’t work.)

Comfort author

The Very Picture of You by Isabel Wolff

It’s official: Isabel Wolff is joining my roster of comfort authors. It’s an illustrious list. Here goes:

My Comfort Authors (in order of appearance, 1980-something to 2012)

Ellen Raskin

Aline, Countess of Romanones

Laurie Colwin

Elinor Lipman

Laurie R. King

Isabel Wolff

So, what makes an author a comfort author? For me, here are the keys.

First, a likeable female main character. Often she’s narrating the story, and she has a distinct voice that sounds real to me.

Second, a plot that is believable even as it holds small surprises. And the plot should have enough going on to hold my interest (there are detective and spies in some of the books by those authors; these books will never be set in Mitford-where-nothing-interesting-ever-happens [perish the thought]), but there should be No Trauma. Nobody (except maybe a bad guy) will die or suffer terribly. There will be none of that! in my comfort books.  

Third, sometimes a romantic relationship is part of the story. And it's gonna turn out well. The guy is worthy of our likeable female narrator.

Fourth, the setting is different from my own life’s setting, without being too exotic. When I’m looking for comfort, England and Spain are fine, but made-up planets in unknown galaxies will not do.

OK, so how’s Isabel Wolff fit in here? 


Well, she’s firing on all cylinders when it comes to writing the perfect (Unruly) comfort book.

In The Very Picture of You, the main character, Ella, is a portrait painter in her mid 30s. She’s got a good life overall: her family is nearby, her best friend (a hand/foot model) is there for her, and her work is meaningful. But then some things start happening. 

She learns that her mother has been lying to her in a major way about her father, who left when Ella was 5. And then her father contacts her, so that’s a whole “What to do?” scenario. And then she falls for a man who is very much not available, and that’s a whole thing, too. And there are lots of side storylines, too, about the people Ella is painting, and that adds some nice texture to the book.

Last year I loved her book A Vintage Affair, and this year, I adore The Very Picture of You. And guys? There's a whole backlist to explore!


Feeling very comfortable here.