I was going to say, we’re slothing our way toward the end of a full year under pandemic conditions. But look at that guy. He’s not worried about cooties, or mouth-breathing jackholes who don’t want to cover their yawps with a mask, or vaccine distribution, or businesses going under. He’s just happy he’s in a tree and that was his mission for the day. So no, we’re not slothing near as much as we should be. Here’s to a slothy-er near future, and books – always, here’s to the books!
An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth by Chris Hadfield. This memoir held my attention to the last page. Different from many memoirs, in my experience at least, is that I was much less fascinated by the person behind the adventure than the adventure itself. For me, it’s usually the opposite. Chris Hadfield just seems, I don’t know, like a genuinely decent, extremely focused and hardworking person with a big, well-earned ego, and an extremely accomplished resume. That’s how he presents himself and there doesn’t seem to be more onion to peel. Not a criticism, please note! But not terribly fascinating reading. But the day-to-day details of living in the International Space Station: sleeping in zero gravity, the challenge of getting urine samples, velcro on everything, dulled taste buds, what time zone they use, emergency space walks! Amazing.
The Guest List by Lucy Foley. A very quick and compelling read, ideally suited for a long weekend and not many obligations. I sped through this novel on Family Day weekend and ended up with weekend left over. As you might guess, it’s not challenging in the intellectual sense, but it is an excellent ride with a few twists along the way. Plus, the isolated setting – a formerly abandoned island off the Irish Coast, populated only by the couple who owns an old castle-like inn, and the raucous wedding party there for the weekend – evokes Agatha Christie. By the time the murder happens and we find out who the victim is, well… the murderer could be just about any of them.
No Game for a Dame by M. Ruth Myers. As you might guess from the word “Dame” in the title, this is a snappy 40s detective novel that takes place in Dayton, Ohio. What makes it a particular standout is that in this series, the hard-boiled gumshoe is the dame: Maggie Sullivan, the adult child and protege of Irish cops, and an accomplished PI in her own right. It’s a clever story and a whole lot of fun.
Fury (A Kate Redman Mystery) by Celina Grace. As I was thinking about the plot of this book, I started second-guessing myself. I had mental imagery of scenes that were making me think I was confusing it with a show I’d watched. No, indeed. It was the novel I was remembering. Apparently I was so absorbed in the action of it, I had developed an inner visual of it. That has rarely happened to me before. So, yeah. I guess I’m giving this book a hearty endorsement. Also, the series would be an actual basis for the kind of British cop dramas I tend to binge.
Aged for Murder by Fiona Grace. This book, on the other hand, was a perfect, possibly computer-generated, mash-up of a stereotypical big-city-girl-comes-to-a-small-town cosy with “Under the Tuscan Sun” or “A Year in Provence.” There’s a big life change, an old friend with a villa, an Italian hunk, misunderstandings, a mischievous goat, and plenty of luck – both good and bad. Oh, and a murder - but no one liked him anyway. That said, while I did have to work hard to maintain suspension of disbelief and avoid eye-roll injuries, I actually enjoyed it a fair bit.
