September & October 2017: Let's pretend the 2 month post was planned, shall we?

If I ever catch up with everything I intend to do, it's pretty much going to be a sign that the end of days (at least for me personally) is nigh. I think I need to just embrace being one or two steps behind where I want to be at any given moment and just go with it.

In that spirit, when I realized it was like Oct 15 and I hadn't listed my September books yet, I simply decided to make end of October a double post. Now that's what I call problem-solving! Anyhow, here we go!

September reads:

Fall of Giants - Ken Follett. First of a trilogy that begins before the First World War and carries up to the Obama era, I believe. I'm thoroughly hooked. Had to force myself not to dive immediately into Book 2 after this one. I'm going to savour the series. 

Dying in the Wool - Frances Brody. A rather enjoyable mystery. 

A Spy Among Friends - Ben Macintyre. Spies! Double crosses! And it's about real people and events. Pretty fascinating stuff. 

The Hangman - Louise Penny. A highly snackable novella. 

Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk - Kathleen Rooney. I highly recommend this lovely, entertaining novel about a fictionalized Macy's copywriter of the 30s and 40s who glories in words and wordcraft.  

Twelfth Night - William Shakespeare. Still funny. 

Sign of the Cross - Anne Emery. Enjoyed both this book and the next.

The Obit - Anne Emery. Now I'll have to take a bit of a pause so I don't over read this author and start getting irritated by stylistic habits. (Hey, it happened to me with Atwood, No one is immune.)

October reads:

The Grownup - Gillian Flynn. Nicely twisted.

Blind Sight - Carol O'Connell. Kind of a lame and forgettable title but it's a good read for planes.  

The Hundred Lies of Lizzie Lovett - Chelsea Sedoti. Interesting book from a teenager's perspective. It's a YA novel and definitely has some of the expected qualities that genre would lead you to expect - angst, (sorta) forbidden love, being misunderstood, heartbreak... - but it's definitely not conventional, and I quite enjoyed it. 

The Girl Who Drank the Moon - Kelly Barnhill. Oh wow. You really should read this one for sure. A "young reader" novel in the very best tradition of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe or Harry Potter. Yes, big praise, and worthy of it. 

The Children of Men - P.D. James. A dystopian novel set in the near future, it's the British stiff-upper-lip/keep-calm-and-carry-on-to-the-nth-degree parallel to the American-right-wing-Christian-misogynistic-fundie-extremist response to infertility found in Margaret Atwood's Handmaid's Tale.  

The Elegance of the Hedgehog - Muriel Barbary. This beautifully written book was ultimately frustrating to me. Read it and tell me what you think. 

I think that's the round up! In theory, I'm going to keep track as I go in November so posting will be easy. But of course, "The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,  Gang aft agley"... so we'll see. 

August 2017: Good books and other intriguing things

Lots of good reading this month. Long weekends, long summer evenings, not as many lazy days as one might wish, but I'm not complaining!

A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness - Perfect for those, like me, who wanted to love Outlander, but thought it just wasn't a fabulous read. I really enjoyed this novel with its witch protagonist and vampire love interest. 

Burning Down George Orwell's House by Andrew Ervin - I just saw that this novel has 3.5 stars our of 5 on GoodReads. Excellent that GoodReads ratings are not necessarily a good indicator of my opinions. I'd give it 4.5 for sure. 

Wildflower by Drew Barrymore - I've always had a soft spot for Drew Barrymore because it seemed like there was only a blink of time between when she was the adorable little girl in ET and when she became a tabloid wild child. This collection of her own remembrances looks back from the time before ET all the way to her present life as a businesswoman and mom. She glosses over many of the hard times, yet she doesn't pretend she is doing otherwise. This book is a lovely representation of her voice and how she chooses to understand her life. 

Never Look Away by Linwood Barclay - This man knows how to write a page turner! I always enjoy Barclay's novels, and this one was no exception. I had read the first book of the "Promise Falls" trilogy, which follows the same main character after this book takes place, so I did have a good sense of what was going to happen. Nevertheless, I enjoyed it thoroughly. 

The Endless Knot by Gail Bowen – Another Canadian writer who never lets me down. Her protagonist, Joanne Kilbourn, is a Saskatchewan-based prof and political analyst who is also a widow, mom, and romantically active lady in her mid-50s. I appreciate that she has a rich life, and the mysteries she encounters always feel somehow organic in that they are connected to her naturally through the wide circle of friends and acquaintances established throughout the novels. 

Blood on a Saint by Anne Emery – While this is the first novel I've read by Anne Emery, it will not be the last. In fact, I have a couple on my Kobo from the library as I type. This mystery is based in Halifax, which is what attracted me to it in the first place. 

Is Fat Bob Dead Yet? by Stephen Dobyns – It was the title that drew me to this book, but the story pulled me in. Bikers, families of con artists, and other societal misfits abound. Dobyns has such fun with language, this novel was a delight to read – I read some sentences aloud for the enjoyment of them –and a great story to boot.

End in Tears by Ruth Rendell – I admit I had to look up a summary of the novel to remind myself what it was about to write this blurb. That's a sign of how many books I read this month, it was one of the earlier ones, and it didn't stand out as particularly distinctive. That's okay. I enjoyed it just fine.

Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris – David Sedaris is a gem, especially when he reads his own work or you can hear his voice in your head reading it to you. That said, this was probably my least favourite of his books. He often comes off as a bit of a self-involved jerk - it's part of his shtick - but in this series of stories, it's rarely counterbalanced with warmth or adequate self-awareness. 

13 Ways of Looking at a Fat Girl by Mona Awad – This novel has an interesting structure and is really well written. The woman referred to in the title is the "hero", sort of, of the novel, but she is not a hero, or a victim, or a brave-but-misunderstood blah blah blah... She's an authentic, dimensional, dark, ordinary person. The title creates a pigeonhole that the thirteen vignettes – some told through the main character's perspective, others through those of secondary characters - work to break out of. It's not a light-hearted feel-good read, but it's worthwhile.

Guardians of Guilt by Michael Connelly - A Lincoln Lawyer story. If you liked the others, you'll enjoy this one. I did. 'Nuff said?

July 2017: Time flies when you're in July

Long weekend, vacation week, girls' road trip to Nova Scotia with my mom and daughter (and Ernie, cause he's a ladies' man) - it's been a busy and happy July. Lots of time for reading and stitching and some canning, of course, but I've gotten behind on posting. All good. I'll catch up sometime. I don't like to let the book posts get too far behind though, or I forget what I've read.

Here goes for July. Mostly genuine goodies in the mix and no real duds. 

Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew'd by Alan Bradley. I continue to find this series with its precocious young protagonist completely charming. 

The Marriage of Opposites by Alice Hoffman. About a woman growing up on the island of St. Thomas when she really feels like she belongs in Paris. Her life, her loves, and it turns out she is the mother of Impressionist master Camille Pissarro.

Brand Failures by Matt Haig. No new ground here for students of marketing. Given that it was published in 2002 or so, that's probably not a surprise!

Fates and Furies by Lauren Goff. I guess you could call this novel a study of a (mostly successful?) marriage. The first half is told through the lens of one partner, then the second retells and enriches and contradicts and reexamines the same timespan through the other partner's perspective. Really good.

The Western Light by Susan Swan. I appreciate the small scale of this novel. It tells the story of one young girl at a very specific time and place in (fictional, I think) Madoc's Landing on the shores of Georgian Bay. Lovely.

I also read a couple of mystery cozies. I don't have them at hand so I can't remember what they're called or what they were about, which probably tells you all you need to know!

June 2017: No theme here

Silence of the Flans by Laura Bradford. Dave brought both this and the next book home from the library for me. He knows my weakness for puns. Neither of these books should trouble you to search them out, but should they appear on your night table after a long day, they'll be a perfectly inoffensive way to wind down.

Roux the Day by Linda Wiken. I feel bad for this book now. I just googled the book title with its punnish spelling to double check the author's name, and I had to scroll down several results on page 2 of the returns before I found it. Bummer.

The Cyclist Who Went Out in the Cold: Adventures Along the Iron Curtain Trail by Tim Moore. Unlike many of Tim Moore's books, this one was not a super-delight. I start it in March and put it down, then just picked it up in a book lull this month. He's doing one of his ridiculous stunt tours, riding an East German shopping bike over a route more than 10,000 km long. The thing is, he's miserable the whole way, legitimately so, and it's just not a fun read. I hope he treats himself (and his readers) to something a little less grueling next time.

The Outside Boy by Jeanine Cummins. (Full disclosure: the Dave is a friend of Jeanine's. If I didn't thoroughly enjoy this book, I wouldn't be listing it here. I just wouldn't mention it at all. But it was really good, so here it is.) The story is about Irish travellers, also called Pavee, or gypsies if you want to be rude. It focuses on one boy in particular as he learns more about his past, his mother, and where she came from, which causes him to rethink his own life on the road. I can't say with any kind of authority if the dialect or the culture is captured accurately in this novel, but I will say it rings absolutely true. 

The Human Universe by Professor Brian Cox and Andrew Cohen.  I started reading this book more than a year ago. It was a tough go. I just don't absorb information about astronomy or physics very quickly, apparently... It is based on a BBC series. I wonder if the TV version would have been more successful for me. In good news, I can now return it to its owner. 

May 2017: Where it go and how did it get there?

Since it took me two weeks to get this list out for May, I'm going to give myself permission not to say much. Some of these books felt like they took a long time to read, so I'm actually a little surprised to see how many of them there are. 

If I had to choose one book in particular to recommend of May's reading, it would be The Spawning Grounds by Gail Anderson-Dargatz. There has been a lot of discussion lately about cultural appropriation. I think this novel is a beautiful example of cultural appreciation. It draws on Canadian First Nations mythology to inspire a story of the intertwined and challenging relationships between white settlers and Native people across generations of a small community. 

Other books I read in May:

Cigar Box Banjo by Paul Quarrington

Yiddish for Pirates by Gary Baldwin

Do Not Say We Have Nothing by Madeline Thien

Us Conductors by Sean Michaels

Invisible Influence by Jonah Berger

The Massey Murder by Charlotte Gray

Lady Cop Makes Trouble by Amy Stewart

April 2017: Here comes the sun (doo doo doo do)

I've been a bit rulesy with my reading in the last few months. Yeah, I had enough of that nonsense. This month I didn't give myself any assigned reading, and it turned out quite well. 

Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari was a fascinating and accessible journey through the evolutionary and cultural history of humankind.  Some ideas Harari explores I was already at least somewhat familiar with – the theories around language development, for example – while others were entirely new to me. This book  blew my mind in small and large ways repeatedly. I feel like I should read it again because I know there is more to absorb. 

The Book of Negroes by Lawrence Hill is a novel I've been meaning to read for some time. I finally put it on hold at the library during my month of banned books, and it became available a few weeks later. It's the life story of one woman, Aminata, who is kidnapped as a child from her village, marched in chains to the coast, and shipped to America as a slave. The story opens with her narrating from a prospect of old age, providing assurance to the reader that she will survive her grim ordeals. I think that was probably the least realistic part of the narrative, that she would survive to become an elderly woman – but as the reader bearing witness, I'm so grateful she did. I learned a lot from this novel, some very uncomfortable truths. We don't actually learn much in school about Canada's complicity with the slave trade; we prefer to focus on stories about the Underground Railroad.

Picture Perfect by Jodi Picoult was... fine. To be honest, this month I didn't make notes as I read. I just wrote down the book titles. And when I sat down to write this post, my mind was a complete blank about this book. I googled for a quick refresher, and it came back to me. That's the kind of impression it made. Not much. People have raved to me about Jodi Picoult as a writer. Based on this book and this book only, I don't get it. I mean, it wasn't bad. It just wasn't good. Plus, I was irked by plot holes the size of a freight train and the lack of any depth or texture to the characters. If the plot was startlingly original, I might be able to get past it, but it wasn't. Anyhoo....

A Tap on the Window by Linwood Barclay was next up. Now this is a writer who knows how to craft a thriller with well-realized characters. I may have mentioned this before about Barclay, but one of the things I really enjoy is that I feel like he could tell me the whole back story of each of his characters, even the most minor. This novel is no exception. Cal Weaver, a private investigator whose teenage son has recently died, gives a ride a to a young woman one rainy night because she had known his son and says she's stranded. He thinks maybe she can help him understand what happened to his son. What he has no way to anticipate is the sequence of events kicked off by this short drive. And speaking of writers who know things...

On Writing by Stephen King was a Christmas gift from the Dave this year. Somehow, it ended up on a bookshelf without being read until now. Probably that frenzy of tidying that hits me every year on December 27 or so when I want to get everything OUT of the living room so we can move without slipping on a scrap of wrapping paper or stepping on a stray battery. Anyway, the book opens with a brief memoir of his writing life, which to me made the book before I even got to the meat of it. I grew up with King's novels. My dad was a big fan; I think they appealed to his dark sense of humour and enjoyment of the macabre. Learning about King's process and perspective on writing was fascinating, and he offers several tips that a hopeful writer can action right away.   

The High Mountains of Portugal by Yann Martel is a wonderful, delightful, magical read. If you love the writing of Gabriel García Márquez, you will love this novel. (And if you don't love his writing, what is wrong with you?) In three sections, this book tells the story of three men who have each been widowed and are struggling to cope with the loss. Bizarre and beautiful, yet strangely believable. Plus, there's a chimpanzee motif.   

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood is everywhere again with a new TV mini-series. I haven't seen it, but I hear it's very good and does justice to the novel. Like 1984, which I read again summer, the dystopian future painted here feels like it's even more prescient than when the novel was written. If anything, the utter moral hypocrisy of the elite is more hidden in Gilead than it is in present-day America. I should probably stop there - Big Brother and all.

Happy reading!

March 2017: In which I tried (and failed) to read only banned books

I said I was going to spend March reading banned and challenged books. Many of the books I read this month were indeed challenging. Grueling even, in some cases. After a few months of not feeling quite up to emotional snuff, I'm not really sure why I decided to do this. I made it just over halfway through the month before I decided to switch gears. 

Here are the banned books I read:

When Everything Feels Like the Movies by Raziel Reed won the Governor General's Award for Children's Literature in the young adult category, which touched off petitions because of its very adult themes. I found it rather repugnant (vulgar, crass, choose your own adjective) at first, if I'm honest, then a single sentence gave me a way in: "I wanted them to hate me; hate was as close to love as I thought I'd ever be." Suddenly, I went from being perplexed and repulsed by Jude – the young, gay, cross-dressing, provocative protagonist – to feeling much more empathetic. I don't think either of my children (12 and 14 years old) are emotionally mature or worldly enough to read it yet, and I'm grateful they're sheltered. I would be very uncomfortable with this book being on the shelf of a grade school library. But, say, grade 11 and 12? Yup - especially with access to supportive material and good conversation. 

A Jest of God by Margaret Laurence is another GG winner. A quiet book about the constrained, strained life of a Manitoba school teacher seems a surprising source of controversy now, but when you consider that it was published in 1966, it makes more sense. The unmarried main character has sex; she contemplates abortion if she were to become pregnant. She gets away with her sins unpunished. Shocking stuff then; still a beautiful exploration of a woman trying to survive a life lived within society's narrow expectations for her. The mother–daughter relationship is especially painful. This book holds up, even if it's shock value has evaporated. 

The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz by Mordecai Richler. Duddy is pretty much an asshole, but hey, that's no reason to ban him. I can't say I'm a huge Mordecai Richler fan, but he sure does create a vivid and realistic world of Anglo-Jewish Montreal in the mid-century. 

The Jungle by Upton Sinclair was published in 1906, but it's waaay too current feeling in many respects. A fictionalized account of an immigrant family trying to make a living in the meat-packing district of Chicago at the turn of the previous century, this is a difficult read. I had to take breaks and read something else several times before I could get all the way through it. So much hardship and sadness and poor judgement and naivete and cynicism and general grossness. It apparently led to many reforms in the food industry as well as strengthened government regulations. Unfortunately, it did not do much to achieve Sinclair's principal goal, which was better working conditions for the labour force. In his own words: "I aimed at the public's heart, and by accident I hit it in the stomach."  

I Am the Cheese by Robert Cormier is a novel geared at young teens. When it was first published in the 70s, it apparently reinvented fiction for this age group. Told in disjointed flashbacks by an unreliable narrator, it builds suspense to the very last page. I'm not sure why it would have been banned – maybe because of the government as bad guy inferences? Some swears? Doesn't have a happily ever after ending? Clearly, it was a different time. Compare it to Reed's book, and it seems so quaint! But it opened the door for much more subversive and dark YA books to come. 

Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret by Judy Blume. Whisper, whisper, whisper. This book was a classic by the time I was a kid. I remember it was one of the books in our school library marked with a sticker that said "Grade 7 and 8 only." Sweet, sweet forbidden fruit. This is a great example of society's shaming of the most natural biological functions. Margaret wants to grow boobs. She's anticipating her first period. Shock, horror! It's a perfectly nice, somewhat dated read that never hurt anyone. 

Three Wishes: Palestinean and Israeli Children Speak by Deborah Ellis is a series of interviews with kids living in the war zone. Maybe I don't know the issues intimately enough (I don't), but I appreciated how this book gives voice to the children without pushing a specific agenda - other than, you know, war is bad for children and other living things. 

The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier has some casual misogyny here and there sprinkled in that stuck in my craw. In my mind, that's what dates it and would make me uncomfortable with kids reading it without additional contextualizing and discussion. I'm sure the objectification of girls and women aren't want earned it the attention of banners though – most likely, it was the swearing, maybe the violence, most certainly the masturbation. 

Blubber by Judy Blume features Jill, a fifth grader who is pretty much a jerk and a follower. I was surprised at what an unsympathetic character she is. With much greater awareness and discussion of bullying in schools these days, I wonder how much currency this novel still has with the grade school set, or maybe even more than in the past when the theme of "bullying" was enough to earn a book a banning.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. He was on drugs, right? It's all drug references, right? I mean, a hookah? Mushrooms? A pig–baby fantasy/hallucination?  But it was banned in China for the talking animal characters, so what do I know... 

And that's where the banned books end. I did not make it through the whole month reading only banned books. I think it was the 17th when that resolution ground to a halt. 

After a snowed-in day at the cottage on March Break (heaven!), I ran out of reading material - okay, I didn't technically run out of things to read. I could have dove into the back copies of Ontario Out of Doors magazine and Readers' Digest or about three dozen Louis Lamour novels. But I did run out of banned books, and I didn't feel like learning about best lures for big water bass, three ways grapefruit can kill you, or sexy/deadly times in the old west.

So I dove into my peeps' library books, and once we were plowed out, we took a jaunt into Almonte to an absolutely lovely book shop, Mill Street Books (52 Mill St, Almonte). You should go there and spend all your monies. 

As You Wish: Inconceivable Tales from the Making of The Princess Bride by Cary Elwes and Joe Layden. Andre the Giant really was the best. Sigh.

Still Life by Louise Penny. So, so much better than your average murder mystery. Beautifully written. 

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley. Charming and thoroughly enjoyable.

Here Comes the Bribe by Mary Daheim. Meh. (I'm not ready for punny cozies yet.)

Last Year by Robert Charles Wilson. Time travel, sort of. So original, so good. 

Dark Matter by Blake Crouch. Time travel, sort of.  Also so original and so good - a completely different way than the preceding novel. I lost sleep because I could not put this book down. 

And the other thing that happened in the past few days? The Canada Reads live discussion and voting. In an utter travesty, The Break was voted off first. I now know how people get so worked up about their team losing in the playoffs. I'm still grumpy about it. Hmph!

February 2017: Canada Reads, and so do I

What a joy to have a fresh stack of five books on my night table, knowing that there's not likely to be a loser in the bunch. Canada Reads is the annual CBC-run competition where five well-known Canadians each choose a book (fiction, non-fiction, short stories, poetry, or a play) to promote and defend. Over the course of 5 days (this year, it will be March 27–31), the books are discussed and debated with one eliminated from contention each day until the last book – the one book deemed that all Canadians should read – is left standing. 

This is the kind of reality programming I can get behind. Well, this and Battle of the Blades (RIP), where professional hockey players and figure skaters pair up to compete in pairs figure skating. 

Anyway, I decided to read all of this year's shortlist in advance of the broadcasts. They'll be televised, broadcast on radio, and streamed. I may even make a point of listening to all of the episodes this year. I'm hoping for podcast format where I can listen as I drive. In the meantime, here are my thoughts listed in the order I read the books, which was completely random. 

Fifteen Dogs by André Alexis takes place in Toronto, across the waterfront from High Park all the way to the Beach. Fifteen dogs, left overnight in a vet's office for care, are granted the power of language by a couple of bored gods, Hermes and Apollo. As their lives unfold, many questions are raised about the nature of consciousness, the role of language in enabling consciousness, and whether it's a blessing or a curse. Yes, it's an allegory but the dogs and their doggishness feel deeply authentic. They are richly understood individual characters, not just literary devices. It's beautiful, fascinating, and one hell of a good story. You should read this book. 

The Break by Katherina Vermette looks at family, culture and identity through the lens of several Métis and Native women of different generations living in Winnipeg. Each woman's relationship to her childhood, heritage, the bush and the city, her dreams and her choices are woven together in an absolutely riveting story. The book opens with a young mother witnessing through her window what she believes is an assault. Based on her appearance – Métis and not entirely pulled together – the senior police officer on the scene essentially dismisses her concerns. As the story unfolds with the narration shifting between characters, it becomes clear that a terrible crime was committed and that no one has much faith that justice will be done. You should read this book.  

The Right to Be Cold: One Woman's Story of Protecting Her Culture, The Arctic and the Whole Planet by Sheila Watt-Cloutier is the sole non-fiction title on this year's list. It's part childhood memoir, part call to (metaphorical) arms to defend the arctic and the Earth's vulnerable environment. Watt-Cloutier grew up in an arctic that didn't yet know it was on the cusp of dramatic cultural and environmental change. Her tales of her traditional childhood paint a vivid picture and very much set the scene for what is lost over the subsequent years: community connections, safety, millennia's-old skills, and the ability to be still. The narrative bogged down for me as she talked about committees and task forces and long-range plans. It felt a bit like reading from a day planner. The human rights issues and looming environmental catastrophe is most persuasively conveyed through her personal experiences and observations, rather than her very laudable professional achievements. You should read this book. 

Company Town by Madeline Ashby takes place in a dystopian near-future on a deep sea oil rig. Most of the people have been at least somewhat surgically engineered to help them survive the degraded environment; babies are designed rather than conceived; and one family controls the whole rig and beyond. When the heroine Hwa is hired to be bodyguard/physical trainer for the Lynch family's scion, her friends start being brutally murdered one by one. I have to admit, this novel simply didn't catch my imagination like the others on the list did. I've been telling Dave he should read it, as more of a fan of science fiction than me, and tell me if it's good or not.  To be fair, it's well-written and it's the best serial killer action adventure featuring an ass-kicking female Newfoundland-raised Korean-Canadian martial arts expert I've ever read. If that sounds appealing, you should read this book.

Nostalgia by M.G. Vassanji has a fair bit in common with Company Town. To me, it was strange that they were both short-listed given their commonalities, or quite possibly my thinking that just reveals my shallow experience of the speculative fiction of a dystopian future genre. In this world, the old do not have to die, but rather can simply move to a different body, implanted with new memories, and continue on. (I don't really know where the new bodies come from. I must have skim-read that part.) "Leaked memory syndrome"– that is, nostalgia or memories from the person's former life – are a dangerous medical issue that must be hidden or otherwise dealt with.  There are a lot of au courant themes at play here: terrorism, generational tensions, xenophobia, the danger of nuclear arms, national borders, and poverty tourism. Dave should probably read this one as well, and you too. 

If I were to choose my favourite of these books, I'd be hard pressed indeed to choose between Fifteen Dogs and The Break. Both so beautifully written and captivating. If the questions is, "What is the one book Canadians need now?" I'd likely choose The Right to Be Cold. We need to understand what's at stake for our planet and that the degraded future is already here. 

Canada reads, and so should you! 

And then, cause there was still some month left, I read The Uprising by Ian Tregillis. It's Book 2 in The Alchemy Wars, following The Mechanical. Honestly, both these books knock my socks off. They take place in our world, but with a history that diverges from ours starting in the 1600s, when the Dutch invent alchemical robots (Clakkers) who work as slaves for their human masters. This incredible invention gives the Dutch such an advantage over the rest of Europe that they become the dominant world power. The story focuses on one mechanical in particular. I actually don't want to reveal another detail because the joy of the story is in part how the details are revealed. I'll say one thing though, "Clockmakers lie."

This year, Freedom to Read Week is February 26–March 4. For the month of March, I'm going to focus on books that have been banned or challenged in Canada or elsewhere around the world. 

“The sooner we all learn to make a decision between disapproval and censorship, the better off society will be....Censorship cannot get at the real evil, and it is an evil in itself.” 
― Granville Hicks

January 2017: New year, new leaves

I'd love to say January was a fresh new start for me, with a new attitude and a whole new helping of mojo. It was, alas, not. I seem to be going through a bit of a rough stretch. Hell, the entire planet seems to be going through a rough stretch so I feel that I am perhaps not entitled to complain. So anyway, let's ignore the dour mood and carry on, shall we? 

Most of the books I read this month were recommended to me. I treasure that I am surrounded by so many book-loving people and that we all have different tastes and experiences to inform our choices. Keeps things interesting, for sure. Another theme this month seems to be that most of them are non-fiction that feels like fiction, or vice versa. 

First up was Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America by Erik Larson. It tells two overarching stories simultaneously: that of the 1893 Chicago World's Fair and of a serial killer that preyed on the women who flocked to the city at that time. It reads like a novel, yet it is deeply researched and rooted in fact.

I recommend this book highly. It's a great read and educational. It's like – this may sound creepy and weird – but it's like the serial murderer story is the spoonful of sugar that makes the learning about history and architecture go down. Yeah, I knew that would sound creepy.

I really did learn a lot though. The Chicago World's Fair is pretty much solely responsible for all the lookalike architecture for seats of state and local governments across the US. Chicago is called the Windy City not because of the wind. And it's where the Ferris Wheel made its debut! Thanks to the Dave for the recommendation.  

The Girls by Emma Cline was recommended to me by a client. It's an exploration of how someone who's lost and looking to belong could find themselves enmeshed in a cult. When young teenager Evie first connects with a group of hippies near her California home, she is beguiled by their seeming freedom and unconventionality, their attachment to their charismatic (older, male) leader. Over the course of the novel, the rot begins to manifest. 

If you're familiar with the story of the Manson Family (is everyone, still?), this novel will evoke strong echoes. It very much feels like a fictionalized telling of real events. It is beautifully written and strongly reminded this very grown-up (grown-up chronically speaking, at least) reader of the challenges of being 14. You're so young, so naive, yet so hungry to not be. I'm not going to tell you how it turns out. Go ahead and read it yourself. 

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt. It's hard to believe this book is actually classified as non-fiction. Its bizarre cast of characters and its surreal setting in Savannah, Georgia seem to plead the case for fiction. I first read this book shortly after it was published back in the mid-90s. I remember enjoying it a lot the first time around. I know it made me want to visit Savannah.

The reason I picked it up again was because we were considering a trip for March Break, maybe to Savannah. So I thought I'd see if it would rekindle the enthusiasm and inspire some planning. This time, I did not find it quite as magical. The supporting characters seemed more in the nature of caricatures; I'd like to learn more about them as humans, particularly The Lady Chablis, the drag queen and Minerva, the Voodoo practitioner. And the main character, Jim Williams, is not particularly interesting nor are most of the others as riveting as I'd remembered. As it happens, we've decided there are a lot of reasons to stay domestic this year for March Break – and this book didn't dissuade me. 

The Girls by Lori Lansen. Why yes, this is the same title as the novel previously mentioned! As I was reading the other, I mentioned it to a couple of different people who each assumed I was talking about this one and enthusiastically endorsed it. Once we unravelled that we were talking about two different novels, I decided I simply had to read this one as well.

Seriously, so good. It tells the life story of conjoined twins, "the girls" of the title, Rose and Ruby Darlen. Each chapter alternates first-person perspective from one girl to the other. Over the course of the novel, the reader gets to know each girl intimately. It's a fascinating study in how two people who have, of necessity, virtually identical life stories can experience those events so very differently.

This novel is fiction, yet it reads so believably as a memoir. Even the peripheral stories are so genuine. It was a bonus as well that it takes place in the fictional town of Leaford, very near my little corner as well as the very real cities of Chatham, Windsor, London, and Toronto. Lori Lansens is certainly an author I'll look for again.

The Clay Girl by Heather Tucker. This novel came very highly recommended by one of the friends who also recommended Lansens' The Girls. I have mixed feelings about it when I think it through. On the positive, I was held rapt at many points by the language and storytelling, especially when the main character, Ari, is very young. She is one of several sisters from a tremendously damaged family. I found myself thinking about this book frequently when I was doing something else entirely. I almost worried about the characters when I wasn't with them. Wow, right?

Increasingly throughout the novel, however, it seems like the author is simply too enamored by her creation. Ari is perfect. Captivatingly beautiful, astoundingly intelligent, deeply empathetic, and gloriously creative. Pretty much utterly flawless. Everyone around her falls in love with her. Honestly, it gets a little tiresome. I want a little more nuance, a little more darkness, mixed in with the light in a character. On the other hand, if you're in the market for hagiography,  have I got a story for you.  

The Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. Okay, so nothing memoir-like or particularly educational here. I had to laugh when Dave said he tried to read this novel because it was classified as time travel. It's really more of a Harlequin romance set in ye olde Scottish Highlands with time travel as the convenient device for a fish out of water heroine. Lots of smouldering glances and sexy times. Also some graphic sexual violence, which is less my cup of tea. I don't know if I'll read any further in the series, but I did get a kick out of this one. Based on its enduring popularity (turns out there's a TV show now and, no surprise, the lead male actor is hot like fire), I expected something more. But if you're looking for a entertaining story, fairly well told, you'll not go wrong with this one. 

December 2016: A tough month for reading (much better for eating)

Many moons ago, a former co-worker of mine shared a useful metaphor. She compared being emotionally or mentally overloaded with the state of meniscus. That is, when surface tension allows water to actually curve up above the rim of your glass. It will stay there indefinitely at the maximal amount, but add just one more tiny drop and over it runs. 

That's how I felt pretty much constantly this month, fully whelmed and just one drop away from over. It's probably why I found most of the books I read this month kind of hum-drum. I simply did not have any extra care or attention to give them, so they didn't give much back to me either. None of them offended me with their badness though (looking at you, Northanger Abbey), so that's something. 

God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian by Kurt Vonnegut. This weird little collection of fictional interviews with the likes of dead people including Adolph Hitler, William Shakespeare, and Sir Isaac Newton is a bit of a head scratcher. I would love to know more of the "why" behind it. Did he have a book contract he needed to fill? Was he doing a favour to a friend at the radio station where these 90 second spots were originally aired? Did he have a larger point? I wish I had taken notes while reading because I know I had moments of being utterly beguiled but the memory of specifics apparently didn't take. Ah well. Maybe not prime Vonnegut, but Vonnegut nevertheless.

Bill Bryson's African Diary by Bill Bryson. It's not much of a book on the Bryson scale of travel writing. Call something an "African Diary," you give me expectations – not the least of which is that it will involve more than one African country. I kept waiting for him to dig in to the adventure, then it ended. This is a challenge with digital library books; no weight in the hand or book jacket to provide clues as to contents. This book was written in support of the charitable organization CARE International. It details a 10-day trip he took to Kenya at their request. (So, why not Bill Bryson's Kenyan Diary, hmmm?) It was meant as a gift with donation. A lovely idea that doesn't make for much of a satisfying library experience. 

Dark Places by Gillian Flynn. Here, my friends, is what you call a page turner. Turns out, it was adapted into a 2015 movie starring Charlize Theron. The fact that I had no idea of that until I went searching for a jpeg of the book's cover speaks volumes about the success of the movie.  The book , on the other hand, kept me riveted. Libby Day, the hard-to-like protagonist, was just a small girl when her entire family was murdered. Largely on her testimony, her brother is convicted of the slaughter. But what really happened that night? No spoilers here. You should read it yourself. 

The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson. It's a memoir of Bryson's highly privileged (by his own admission) midwestern childhood. With all the "Make America Great Again" nonsense being slung around, I found myself very reluctant to dig into this book.  I just didn't want to have my highly favourable impression of Bryson to be tinged by association with those who suggest that there is some bygone era where everything was better and that the people for whom it wasn't better simply don't matter. Fortunately, Bryson is highly aware that what was an idyll for him had a very dark underbelly. He walks this line quite admirably, conveying both the naivete of a sheltered child and the wisdom of the adult looking back.

The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd. Hey! This novel is yet another that has been made into a movie. I also did not know that. Unlike Bee Time or The Bees (wow, bees are really having a moment for me this year), this book is not about bees as such. Rather, bees offer a recurring motif that signals stages in the protagonist's life and understanding of her world. Lily is a 14 year old white girl who flees her hometown accompanied by the black housekeeper who has been like a mother to her. A lovely story, well-told.  

You Can't Touch My Hair: And Other Things I Still Have to Explain by Phoebe Robinson. A stand up comedian and actress, Robinson writes with an engaging, conversational voice a series of personal essays (I guess that's what to call them? she writes a blog and these feel like blog posts) about important and trivial issues. And issues that on the surface could be seen as trivial – hair – but are emblematic of much deeper societal ills. She speaks frankly about the world as she sees it and experiences it. She says, "Don't be lazy. Do your own research. I'm not here to be an encyclopedia for you. But I think there is a way to have a conversation between two people where they are are just sharing information." And that's what this book feels like. 

The Portable Veblen by Elizabeth Mckenzie. I want to call this a "quirky little novel," but I feel like that's an unfair reduction of an original, charming, and insightful story about love and family dysfunction, corporate and individual greed, the medical–industrial complex, mental illness, and squirrels. Yup, that about sums it up. Unless you've read this novel, you haven't read this story before. Unlike, say...

The Litigators by John Grisham. As I was reading this story, I was honestly straining to recall if I've actually read it before or just several like it. There's really no new ground here. Scrappy rogue lawyer fighting the system and his own demons. Sound familiar? But that's not to say that I didn't enjoy it, because I absolutely did. When your brain is at capacity, sometimes formulaic is just what you need to unwind. It was a perfect way to usher in the holidays. 

So that marks the end of a year of reading. I'd love to close out the year with something profound, but nah. I've got nothin'. Imma keep reading, canning, knitting, sharing in the new year. All the very best to you and yours! 

November 2016: No booze, limited carbs, no cozies (WHAT AM I DOING HELP ME)

Animal Farm by George Orwell. This novel was much tougher to read now as an adult than I remember it being as a teen. Not sure if the difference is one entirely of my perspective or if society is regressing such that this satire of the Russian revolution feels increasingly apt once again. Like 1984, which I read again in August, this novel hits close to home – especially with all the coverage of the tumultuous American election. Feels like the mass of people (oh, jeepers, I want to say "sheeple" - this. must. stop.), regardless of political stripe, non-critically eat up what they are fed. 

Broken Promise by Linwood Barclay. This novel opens with the discovery of 23 dead squirrels. That mystery is not solved - or even much explored - as it is very quickly overtaken by the murder/kidnapping that becomes the main thrust of the plot. Barclay crafts a great read, with intersecting plot lines and well-drawn characters, where it's hard to tell who are the good guys and who the bad because, as in real life, most people are a mix of both elements. I particularly appreciated the depth and sensitivity with which Barclay handles the relationship between the adult son and his aging parents.

The main plot gets a satisfying resolution, yet the many other plot lines do not. I was rather admiring at the same time as baffled, until I realized this book is part 1 of a trilogy. That makes more sense. I found it pretty surprising that a modern thriller writer would leave pieces of the story hanging. Usually everything gets tied up in a neat little bow. So there will be two more novels in which to do that, and I suspect I'll read them.

Everyone We've Been by Sarah Everett. A psychological suspense novel. A broken-hearted love story. With ghosts (sort of). Just because its protagonist is a teen, does that make it a YA novel? I don't know the answer to that, but I know that I thoroughly enjoyed this read. It's well-written, offers a gripping story with engaging characters, and kept me raptly turning pages to see how it would all turn out. I had an appointment that I arrived at early, and I was half-disappointed when I was called in early because I had brought it with me to read just in case. (I might have been fully disappointed except the waiting room was pungent with someone's tagalong cigarette smoke and it was making my eyes water - not what you want before getting a new photo ID.) 

Why Not Me? by Mindy Kaling. I starting reading this collection of personal essays as the returns started coming in for the US election. It was precisely the antidote I needed. Mindy Kaling writes as if she is bent on creating a charming, confident-but-not-too-confident, smart, ambitious persona, and she's does it successfully. Why it really works for me though is that she has an executive function of her consciousness overseeing it all, so that when she oversteps, she calls bullshit on herself.  And she's really funny. I read lines and paragraphs  to Dave because he'd ask what it was that made me laugh out loud. A nice light snack, yet very satisfying. 

Northanger Abbey by Val McDermid is meant to be a fresh take on the Jane Austen universe, but it's beyond stale. The story never comes to life, telling rather than showing at every step of the way. Late in the book, when the heroine is described as "insatiably curious" – or some equivalently cliched descriptor; I can't be arsed to go double-check the wording – I found myself actually rolling my eyes. Up to then, her actions have shown her to be strangely incurious and unimaginative. Austen would never create such a dullard.

After a few chapters, I wondered if McDermid was setting up a parody. Or that at some point, the story would zoom out and expose the narrator as a frustrated author trying to write an Austen story at the behest of their editor to tap into a trend and make big bucks. Never happened. The novel turned out to be just what it appeared on the surface: a painfully bland story with a threadbare premise. I wasted my time so you don't have to. 

Redshirts by John Scalzi. Now this is a parody, sort of. And a play-within-a-play, sort of. It's a hoot is what it is, and it refreshed my perspective nicely after that last bit of nonsense. Earlier this year, I read Lock In by Scalzi and enjoyed it thoroughly. This is a very different type of story, but also excellent. You might find a familiarity with the Star Trek world or other TV science fiction/space travel shows to be beneficial, but I think it stands on its own. Funny, silly, smart. Very much in contrast to McDermid's Northanger Abbey in that I felt like the author very much respects his readers and the world he's sending up.  

Astray by Emma Donoghue. I had to work up the gumption to read this book because her Room was so devastating. I mean brilliant, obviously, but tough-going. As it turns out, Astray is a very different experience. It's a collection of short stories that share a common theme: each protagonist leaves home and the familiar, either literally or figuratively – in one story, through age-related dementia. At the end of each story, Donoghue shares the historical snippet that inspired the story. She's certainly not one for the trite happily-ever-after, and it makes for a wonderful collection of very human stories. 

Bee Time: Lessons from the Hive by Mark L. Winston. One of the things I love - and crave - about knitting is the meditative reverie state I can achieve with the right combination of pattern and yarn. Winston describes a similar experience for experienced keepers amongst the hives. He calls it "bee time." This book offers wide-ranging reflections about his long academic and personal experience with bees as well as consideration of the alarming environmental and economic impacts of colony collapse disorder. There is much we can learn from bees' social structure, division of labour, work–rest balance (turns out that "busy as a bee" is not all that busy actually), communication patterns, the list goes on. Winston covers it all. What's more, his prose is gorgeous. I found myself soothed by his cadence, a little slice of bee time between the covers.  

Tibetan Peach Pie: A True Account of an Imaginative Life by Tom Robbins. Reading this collection of remembrances – he shies away from calling it a memoir – I absolutely had the sense of the author's presence, like he was actually there talking to me. It felt like a (I'm about to use a five dollar word here) disintermediated experience. Not to say the storytelling isn't well-crafted because it is, it simply has the sense of stories crafted and recrafted in the telling, rather than on the page. Now in his 80s, Robbins has really lived. From a poor boyhood in the Jim Crow south to a military deployment in Korea to a bohemian lifestyle to authordom, he tells it like he sees it with his characteristic humour and robust vocabulary. And, perhaps as a testament to his emotional honesty, he seldom comes out looking particularly good. 

So it's the end of November, and I pretty much achieved what I set out to. Nary a drop of alcohol touched my lips, restoring my liver to vigorous readiness. Not a single cozy page did I read either, and I find myself much less grumpy book-wise. Except for that dumb Northanger Abbey. I'm still offended on my dear Miss Austen's behalf. Oh, and I watched Murder She Wrote on TV with my mom last night, which kind of felt like cheating but it totally wasn't. And on the avoid simple carbs thing, well, let's just say I made a really good showing on that score the first half of the month. Progress, not perfection! 

October 2016: Shifting gears

This month started off light with a couple of cozies. They were fine. They passed the time. Nothing wrong with either of them. Damning with faint praise, you say? Yeah. It's not them, it's me. 

I've read too many. I need a break.

Back in high school, I went on a Margaret Atwood bender, reading novel after beautiful novel. Cat's Eye. The Handmaid's Tale. The Edible Woman. Surfacing. And short stories. And poetry. Wonderful, all. Until one day, I couldn't look at another cover with her name on it. Her wording seemed overly careful, precious. I was so over it. I was full.

It was probably at least a decade, maybe a decade and a half, before I picked up another book by Ms Atwood. I know. Ridiculous. How does one get through an English BA and a Master's degree without a close read of Margaret Atwood? Yet I did. And now, after the extended break, I can read her work with absolute pleasure again. 

Anyway, I'm not saying that cozy mysteries are anywhere near Atwood calibre. But I'm not saying they're not either. I'm just saying that when reading something becomes an endurance sport and if no one is paying you to read it, then don't. So in October after enduring my way through two cozies, I stopped.

I've decided November will be entirely cozy mystery free. I've told The Dave, my library mule, not to bring me any. It's gonna be weird. 

If you're curious, here was the October book lineup:

[GAHHHH!! &$%! I just lost the descriptors for all of these books. CRAP. Anyhow, I'll have a go at rewriting. Bummer. Jesus saves, so should you, Frances!]

Grilling the Subject by Daryl Wood Gerber. Fine.

Cheddar Off Dead by Julia Buckley. Also fine. 

So those were the last two proverbial straws that caused the breakage. The following books have all more or less set my reading brain on the path to restoration.  

A Banquet of Consequences by Elizabeth George. I probably should have stepped away from popular mysteries entirely for a bit because I think my experience of this book was affected by the fact that it's part of a series of which I have read many. Still though, Elizabeth George is a titan and even if not one of my favourites by her, it was still really very good.   

In Everyone Brave is Forgiven by Chris Cleave, World War 2  London comes alive with the horrors of continual bombing, casual racism, and everyday cruelty to the disadvantaged, including mentally and physically disabled children and black people. This beautiful novel tells the story of a privileged young woman, 18 at the beginning of the book and the war, who chooses to serve by teaching the children left behind in London when most have been evacuated to the countryside. She's rapidly becoming an adult, finding love, and losing it, while living through utter horror – yet there is beauty and joy too. The cast of characters feel dimensional and real. I reread many pages and passages for sheer pleasure. It's a rich story, well told, and I learned from it as well.  

The Mysterious Disappearance of the Reluctant Book Fairy by Elizabeth George. More of a novel than a novella, this charming fantasy lasts approximately the length of the flight from Dulles to Pearson. 

Betty Boo by Claudia Piñeiro. Piñeiro is Argentina's most popular crime writer, and I can certainly understand why. This novel unveils a series of deathsm which from the outset do not appear to be linked. The main protagonist is a novelist who has undergone a crisis of confidence and is now making a living ghost writing for vanity projects. The secondary characters are a mix of old school and new school journalists, who find they have a lot to learn from each other. The translator, Miranda France, has done a superb job in using language that feels utterly true to Buenos Aires (I mean, at least to me, having never been to South America, so what do I know?), without feeling forced or like there is a layer n front of the story. I will most certainly seek out other novels by this duo – but not in a row. Each novel shall have breathing room for itself. 

The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August by Claire North. This novel was highly, highly recommended by Dave. I think I have mentioned that we have very different preferences for reading, but when he makes a reco of something he thinks I'll enjoy, he's almost never wrong. This novel was another win for him. I guess you could describe it as a time travel story crossed with the movie Groundhog Day. Harry August is born, lives, and dies in the 20th Century. Then is born again, lives and dies again, in the same timeline repeatedly. Except in every new life he has the accumulated memories of previous lives. AMAZING concept. So the title is literal - the book tells the story of his first fifteen lives. It's a page turner. 

The White Queen by Philippa Gregory. Last but not least is this sort-of-sympathetic retelling of the warring reign of King Edward IV from the perspective of his wife, the traditionally vilified Elizabeth Woodville and her family. (Those poor boys in the tower. More than 500 years later, and it's still heartbreaking.) Even knowing how it all turns out, I found the story engaging to read and I appreciated the strong female view of the world. If you don't know how it turns out, may I suggest the podcast Rex Factor? It's the no-effort, highly enjoyable way to get up to speed on all the kings and queens of England from Alfred the Great to Elizabeth the Second. As for me, I'm all caught up with episodes of the kings and queens of Scots and waiting for the next. Love it! 

September 2016: One stand out, a buncha enjoyables, and one sad trombone

The stand out

Dietland by Sarai Walker. So good. You should probably read it rather than my description. But I'll take a stab at it. Let's just say societal pressure around dieting and body image leads to terrorism in this book. Like, realistically. 

I mean, as a concept it's out there, but not so far as you might prefer to think. 

The enjoyables

Arsenic and Old Books by Miranda James. "A cat in the stacks mystery." The rare male protagonist in the cozy genre. 

Knot Guilty by Betty Hechtman. "A crochet mystery." Makes much of the rivalry between knitters and crocheters. Is that a thing?

Death by Devil's Breath by Kylie Logan. "A chili cook-off mystery."

License to Dill by Mary Ellen Hughes. "A pickled & preserved mystery." This one is where a character mentions making jam from apples and onions. So I did. Liked the book, love the jam. Thumbs up!

A Beeline to Murder by Meera Lester. "A Henny Penny Farmette mystery."

Midnight Crossroad by Charlaine Harris. Cover says "first in a new series." I kind of need to read more than one before I endorse the series, but this first one is rather promising. A potentially interesting cast of characters that I'd like to see develop.

Rogue Lawyer by John Grisham. 

Firm Ambitions by Michael A Kahn.

The sad trombone

Funny Girl by Nick Hornby. Started off strong, but ultimately very disappointing. It was like Hornby lost interest in the titular character after a handful of chapters. Bummer, cause she was much more gripping than the male characters that dominated the rest of the book. Wah waaaah. 

August 2016: Lazy, hazy, crazy etc.

Some quality pun titles this month. And by "quality," I mean truly awful puns that made the whole family laugh (seriously, Caught Bread Handed) and inspired lots of giddy conversation and ideas for punny mystery titles of our own. 

With a long weekend, a week of vacation and not one but two business trips, I read a lot of books in August. I'm not even sure if I have them all listed here. No recaps this month. Too many. So here's the occasionally annotated list. 

1. Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - JK Rowling. Technically, I read this one in July but I forgot to list it. So here it is. I liked it, no shocker.
2. Silence of the Lamps - Karen Rose Smith. Pun alert! 
3. The Mirror Thief – Martin Seay. This book really wants to be taken seriously. I should probably reread it sometime when I feel like reading a more serious book. I think I missed a lot. Or it wanted me to think I was missing a lot. On the surface, it was an enjoyable three-layer story: 1500s Venice, 1950s Venice Beach, California and modern day Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas. There was definitely more going on under the surface. Or at least I think there probably was.
4. Caught Bread Handed: A Bakeshop Mystery - Ellie Alexander. Puntastic! Plus, I actually really like this series.
5. That Old Black Magic - Mary Jane Clark.
6. Death of a Bacon Heiress - Lee Hollis.
7. Seventh Grave and No Body - Darynda Jones. Yup, charm of thsi series has worn off for sure.
8. Something Strange and Deadly - Susan Dennard.
9. 1984 - George Orwell. Lily just read 1984, and we've been having some great conversations. I thought I better reread this book since the first time I read it way back when I was a kid,it was still “fiction.” I remember needing some contextualizing around totalitarianism and the WW2 to really understand it. Amazing how it actually feels more relevant now than it did in the '80s.  
10. Vinyl Cafe Turns the Page - Stuart McLean. Love, comfort. No need for cheesy chicken soup books when the Vinyl Cafe is around. 
11. Lullabies for Little Criminals - Heather O'Neill. Seriously so good. Heartachingly well-written and absorbing.
12. Southern Peach Pie and a Dead Guy - A. Gardner.
13. Finding Audrey - Sophie Kinsella.
14. Musseled Out - Barbara Ross.
15. Irma Voth - Miriam Toews. 
16. Guidebook to Murder - Lynn Calhoun.
17. The Kingmaker's Daughter - Phillipa Gregory. 
18. What the Fly Saw  - Frankie Bailey.

July 2016: Vacation reading

Starting with a long weekend and having a week of vacation in the middle, July turned out to be a big reading month for me. And, since I added books as I was reading them, I think this list is complete except for books I read that were primarily work-related. 

Bone to Be Wild by Carolyn Haines is part of a series that follows Sarah Booth Delaney, a failed Broadway actress returned to her Georgia plantation home. She's not alone in her rambling home; she has a resident "haint," a former slave named Jitney. This series is a great example of why, though I keep threatening to, I can't quit cozies entirely. Witty, charming, and entertaining, and not at all dark despite being rife with murder. It's got it all.  

I Am Half-Sick of Shadows by Alan Bradley. So I may have been a smidge skeptical about a mystery whose protagonist is an 11 year old. Glad I dove in anyway though because Flavia De Luce is a delight. She's precocious but not at all tiresome. She's smart and ridiculously overconfident - that's she's oblivious to some of the cross-currents apparent to the reader is a testament to the line that Alan Bradley walks so well.

Six and a Half Deadly Sins by Colin Cotterill takes place in Laos, 1979. A "treasure hunt" by two elderly gents and a woman is kicked off by the discovery of a strangely well-preserved finger in the hem of a traditionally woven Laotian skirt called a pha sin. The story unwinds as the trio travels from village to village looking for clues.  I really should learn more about Laos. The political–historical context that emerged was rich and sad, and I'm terribly ignorant. 

A Murder in Time by Julie McElwain offers a tremendous fish-out-of-water concept  – modern day FBI agent hurtles more than 200 years into the past and finds herself in the midst of a murder investigation. Naturally, she has none of the tools of modern forensics and has to be guarded about what knowledge she shares so as not to upset the course of human discovery. The concept itself kept me reading. Unfortunately, the characters – including protagonist Kendra Donovan – were more in the nature of caricatures, and story itself a little too ripe with genre conventions like the plucky maid, the dashing marquis, and the "brilliant" FBI agent who's torn between her drive for justice and the chance at twue wuvvv. I want to read this story again, written by somebody who can make me believe in the characters. 

The Cinderella Killer by Simon Brett takes place before Christmas in a small English town and focuses on a theatre troupe preparing to stage Cinderella. The story itself was fine though nothing special, but I very much enjoyed learning about the conventions and traditions of the British panto. We are lucky to have a theatre company locally that stages a pre-Christmas panto every year, so we've seen a few; they've become a traditional class trip for the grade schoolers around here. 

Selected for Oprah's Book Club back in 1998, What Looks Like Crazy on an Ordinary Day by Pearl Cleage took me into a culture and context very different than my own.  As a white woman reading this novel 20 years after its publication, I am hardly qualified to comment on its realism or internal truth. But I will say it felt real, I believed in the characters, and it deals with many issues (poverty, race,  individual and institutionalized racism) that remain urgently relevant today. 

Dave, an avid cyclist, picked Gironimo! Riding the Very Terrible 1914 Tour of Italy by Tim Moore for himself. Since Tim Moore is never not funny and Dave was in the middle of another book, I grabbed it up and read it first. Thoroughly enjoyable and reminded me that I really should reread his Travels with My Donkey: One Man and His Ass on a Pilgrimage to Santiago because I don't think I've ever read a book that made ma laugh more. I think it's been long enough that it will new again. 

Also taking place in 1914, Girl Waits with Gun by Amy Stewart is a delightful take on the detective novel. Three sisters living alone, trying to make a limited income stretch as far as possible when their wagon is crashed into by a powerful businessman in his newfangled automobile. The novel unfolds as the eldest sister tries to get compensated, and we learned about her backstory and what happens next. One of the blurbs on the book jacket says something about how funny the book is (I don't have it front of me), and I'm not sure where that notion comes from, but it is very entertaining indeed. 

Fighting Chance by Jane Haddam is one in a series about former FBI agent Gregor Demarkian. Good reads, though I can't say this installment particularly stood out from the others. The good thing was that the main protagonist is only referred to as the "Armenian American Hercule Poirot" maybe twice in the book. In an earlier episode, possibly the first, Demarkian is given this name by a newspaper and it sticks. This just seems so implausible to me - gives way too much credit for literacy to the general public -  that it sets my teeth on edge. I know, I'm grumpy. 

So good! The Living and the Dead in Winsford by Håkan Nesser had me turning pages as fast as I could. Translated from Swedish, this novel follows a Swedish woman living in isolation in Englad. We find out why. It's riveting. I'd never read anything by Nesser before, and I feel like he is this month's big discovery. Apparently most of Nesser's novels are a series featuring the same detective; this one is a standalone. I hope the series lives up to the high expectations I now have. 

Speaking of living up to the hype, Barbara Kingsolver never lets me down. Animal Behavior takes place in Grace, New Mexico. It tells the story of a young woman who moved away as soon as she could, but is drawn back and begins to discover all that was surrounding her as she grew up. 

Reading Up a Storm by Eva Gates is a typical cosy. The protagonist works and lives at a library in a lighthouse. Yeah, it sounds pretty charming. And there's murder, of course. 

I learned a bit about animal slaughter from In the Dark Places by Peter Robinson. I guess I'll have to be careful how that might bust out in conversation. Apparently this book was first published as Abattoir Blues, which actually is a much more memorable and fitting title - I guess it didn't fly off the shelf. 

June 2016: Happy Canada Day! And nary a Canadian book on the list

I think I might have lost track of at least one book I read in June. Ah well, it’s been a lose track of things kind of month. Super busy and firing on all cylinders. But look, it's only July 1 and here I am posting for June. Is that a new leaf I hear?

I started the month cozy-style, with Farmed and Dangerous by Edith Maxwell. Not a challenging read and it’s not out to bust any conventions of the genre. Still, it offers a mostly enjoyable take. The plucky female entrepreneur is a small-scale organic farmer facing the challenges of her first winter greenhouse growing season; when someone dies after eating her produce, she becomes a suspect. A pretty typical set-up and story, though I did enjoy learning more about the farming aspect.

The narrative gets irritatingly preachy in parts, and I say this as someone who makes deliberate efforts to buy local and organic where possible. That said, I’d certainly give another installment in this series a chance.   

Kerry Greenwood’s Death Before Wicket, another mystery, was my next choice. Set in 1920’s Australia, the wealthy, startlingly independent protagonist is a something who something. Plus there was a lot about cricket, which zzzzzzz…. Oh sorry. Yeah, it didn’t set my world on fire. I'm not even going to search up a pic of the cover. 

Next up is one of my favourite contemporary popular authors, Sharyn McCrumb. Her Appalachian mysteries are particularly brilliant, heartrending, beautiful. She’s also responsible for kooky, intriguing titles like Bimbos of the Death Sun and If I’d Killed Him When I Met Him. Irresistible.

The Ballad of Tom Dooley is her version of the real story behind the old folk song. The author did piles of research in an effort to get the details right and to ensure her hypothesis was entirely plausible. (Spoiler alert: she doesn’t believe Tom Dula was the killer.) I’m fascinated by her ability to create a world in which there are almost no innately likeable characters––the book is told from the perspective of a truly awful woman––yet tell a story that is nevertheless fascinating and enjoyable to read. It wouldn’t be at the tippy-top of my pile of Sharyn McCrumb novels, but that’s a very high bar indeed.

And now for something entirely different, Lock In by John Scalzi. Okay, it’s not entirely different. It opens with a murder that needs to be solved, but that’s pretty much where the similarities end. This riveting novel takes place in the near future, in a North America highly similar to our own. A virus has run through the population, rendering a significant number of people “locked in” to their own bodies. They are alive: they can hear, feel, think, but they can’t move or speak without the aid of implanted neural networks and the use of external technology.

The more enabling technology allows them to be back in society, the more society wants to limit them. The government votes to cut funding for research and support because it’s no longer popular. That changes the landscape for private companies involve in R&D. Then, the enabling technology is used in an unforeseen way as a diabolical weapon. It’s a fascinating and original story, and so strangely plausible. You should read it, for sure.   

Edit to add: I remember the book I forgot! This Is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper. I was hesitant about this book because I don't really relish thinking too deeply about a family mourning their dad. (My dad passed about 20 months ago, and I still miss him all the freakin time.) Yet I did enjoy it thoroughly. The book was very much about family dynamics, particularly sibling dynamics and it's pretty over-the-top. No surprise that it's been made into a movie because it reads as if that was the end game. Which, incidentally, is not meant to be snarky – just an observation about the feel. Anyhow, that's that. I feel better, don't you?

Oh, and here's one more, Dead to the Last Drop by Cleo Coyle . I knew the list seemed short! So I can't say it stands out in  my mind if I'm being honest, but I did appreciate the bits of jazz background as well as Underground Railroad history, which were handled with a light touch.  Okay, so that's it for now. Any other books that re-emerge in my consciousness can join the July list! 

May 2016: Variety pack

So, it's June 23. And here's the list for May. It's been a bit crazypants around here. I read every night before I go to sleep, so reading never entirely goes by the wayside. Unlike, say, binge-watching things on Netflix or vacuuming. Gotta have priorities. 

I'm going to do a list. Let's see which books move me to comment on.

1. Brush Back by Sara Paretsky. V.I. Warshawsky rides again. Just realizing that I never did figure out what the title references. 

2. Moss Hysteria by Kate Collins. A typical cozy. 

3. Eighth Grave from the Dark by Darynda Jones. A series (did the numeric title tip you off?) about the grim reaper married to the son of the devil. In this one, they had a baby. I think the charm of this series may be wearing off for me. 

4. Cold Girl by R.M. Greenaway. A murder mystery set in the modern context of the Canadian northwest. There was a secondary, or actually probably more like tertiary, character that I found particularly intriguing. An old, blind First Nations man who is working to preserve his language and teach it to the young people. I want to know his story.

5.  So Much for That by Lionel Shriver. My fingers are hesitating over the keyboard, trying to figure out which thought to pluck out of my brain and lay down for this book. There were some really frustrating moments in this story – as in life – but it all came together. Perhaps a little too perfectly at the end, but I'll take it.  

6. Queen of Babble Gets Hitched by Meg Cabot. The chicklitiest of chick lit. Eye roll-y and yet I'm complicit. Here it is on my list. 

7. Flight Behavior by Barbara Kingsolver. A lovely counterpoint to the previous entry. The story of a woman to whom life has handed nothing but low expectations and how she gradually begins to break out of the metaphorical chrysalis in which she has been bound.  

8. The First Crusade, A New History: The Roots of Conflict Between Christianity and Islam by Thomas Asbridge. Moral of this non-fiction account? Religion has been the excuse for intolerance, terrorism, and assholitude since forever. 

9. Where Did You Sleep Last Night by Lynn Crosbie. Not for me, Jenn. I couldn't finish it. Not interested in self-destructive faux-nostalgia for the grunge era. 

10. The Children's Crusade by Ann Packer. Lots of unsympathetic characters, but an engrossing read. And no religious element, despite what the title might imply. 

Plus, the fam gave me a new Kobo for Mother's Day. Yay!! 

And I'm thoroughly HOOKED on a podcast series called Rex Factor. (Once you listen to it, you'll start saying that title in a very particular, majestic way.) The audio isn't great in the first few episodes, but hang in there 'cause it gets better. A couple of blokes – I feel like they'd describe themselves as blokes - discuss and score each of the kings and queens of England, starting way back with the Saxons. (They have a second series on the monarchs of Scotland, but I'm not there yet.) So good. Check it out! 

April 2016: Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote

Nah, I didn't read any Chaucer this month. I'm overdue for a reread, actually. Maybe I'll get to that in May... or June, the way this month is already flying by. I just couldn't seem to get arsed to write promptly about any of the books I read in April. But here we go.

First up, The Bees by Laline Paull. This was the rare work of fiction that The Dave read first and recommended. His track record is very good at predicting the intersecting portion of the Venn diagram of what he enjoys compared to what I'll enjoy. I would likely never have read The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffinegger or Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke  except for his reco. So, he's a good picker. (Hey, wait, all three of those books were debut novels by women. I love a good coincidence!) 

Like those books, The Bees creates a fully realized, highly believable world with interesting characters, rituals and distinct cultural history without the crutch of an ungrammatical or weirdly punctuated language or exhausting explication. It's about, well, bees. A specific bee, actually, who's born into a specific role within the hive but with natural abilities that allow her and compel her to become more. It's a fascinating tale that explores how one's "destiny" as defined by society does not have to be one's fate. Beautifully written, this one had me turning pages and leaving the light on far too late. 

Hell's Cartel: IG Farben and the Making of Hitler's War Machine by Diarmuid Jeffreys came next. Wow. I just had no idea, none, about how willingly and enthusiastically massive German businesses supported and enabled the Third Reich. I'm embarrassed to admit that. But learning late is better than learning never.

It was also a recommendation, this time by a colleague, who brought it up as a digression in a discussion around Trump and the strange, scary way utterly unvarnished racism has somehow become permissable in American political discourse. 

I picked it up back before Christmas and it took me a few months to find the gumption to get into it. (I'm tempted to make a Leni Riefenstahl Triumph of the Will reference, but maybe I should leave that unsaid. Oops, too late.) Anyway, once I did get immersed, it was actually a riveting read about both the emergence and considerable genius of the German chemical industry and about how there is no inherent moral core to business doing business.  Recommended reading, for sure.

I know I read The Rebel Wife by Taylor Polites next, but not much of it stayed with me. About a young widow whose husband dies from sort of contagious fever-y, bloody illness, it takes place in Post-Civil War Alabama. The widow never much captured my attention or my sympathy. I'm not sure the author was all that emotionally invested in her either. I find myself remembering more about some of the side characters: the dead husband, a slaver turned abolitionist; the "mammy", a woman slave whose own babies had died before she became a wet nurse many years before; the drunkard former Confederate soldier turned Klansman; a husband and wife who are also former slaves who set out to establish a new life far away. Lots of possibilities for a riveting story without focus on the passive, insipid, not-very-rebellious Rebel Wife.   

I'm pretty sure Saving Sophie by Ronald H. Balson was written in hopes of a movie deal. A conventional thriller, it involves a widower-lawyer whose daughter is kidnapped by some pretty stereotypical baddies, in this case orchestrated by the girl's Palestinian grandfather. If the book was written today, the bad guys would be Syrian, in the 80s, Russian, in the 40s, Nazis... You have read this book even if you haven't read this book. Nevertheless, I enjoyed it. 

And speaking of years past, Spadework by Timothy Findley reminded how long ago the 90s really were. The Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky scandal nonsense is played out in the background of this character drama. People really did paint her as the villain of that piece. It now seems like such a (thankfully) dated perspective, and it kept pulling me out of the main story.   

The main story, though, I enjoyed a lot. It is set in Stratford, Ontario and features The Stratford Festival as a backdrop with little cameos of a few theatrical titans (William Hutt, for example, rest in peace) and, of course, the famous swans. The story revolves around relationships, fidelity and ambition. So you see how the Clinton bits fit. 

I found this novel to be less challenging and more easily torn through than what I usually expect from Timothy Findley. I mean, Not Wanted on the Voyage absolutely enraged me as I read it though I could not put it down. Headhunter baffled me on first read and enchanted me on second. Spadework is much more meh than either of those. Why yes, that is a technical term. But still, better than a lot of what I read (she says honestly) so no complaints. 

So, having ploughed through descriptions of my April books, I'm not sure why I was so daunted to begin. I'll try to get May done on schedule. If I'm not too busy with The General Prologue.

March 2016: Karma(?) takes down the Kobo

First of all, I'm bummed to announce the passing of my Kobo. I loved that wee machine, with its book-like feel and backlit screen. So easy to read stealthily in bed without waking up the sleeper beside me. I feel guilty. Here's what happened:

I'm on the plane back from Europe, crammed and buckled into my seat. I'm watching "The Big Short" on my screen. I'm enjoying it. My trusty Kobo is tucked into the seat pocket, awaiting the end of the movie. Suddenly, the person in front of me yams her seat back, hard, as far as it will go. As far as it will go, at least, without my knees actually busting through the seat. I can no longer see my full screen because of the angle of the seat back. I can practically feel the woman's kidney against my patella. My other patella is jammed into something hard.

Do I quickly rearrange my knees by manspreading or perhaps trying to snake my feet further under the seat? I do not. I go passive–aggressive and keep my knees exactly where they uncomfortably are. HINT. HINT. There's a body here. It's broad daylight. You do not need to fully recline. We live in a society, woman. When meals are served, she sits up to eat and, fortunately, is much more judicious about her degree of recline after eating. I start thinking I was being a bit of a dick. I reach for my Kobo and realize the hard thing that had been against my knee was the e-reader. Ruh roh.

The screen was dark grey. I could vaguely see the ghost of the book cover through the grey. This didn't look good. It wasn't good. It was very, very bad. SUbsequent efforts at revival were unsuccessful. Maybe I can blame the Ms. Entitled-Speedy-Mega-Recliner because maybe it was the initial impact that did it. But I have a sneaking suspicion it was the sustained pressure of my silent, invisible hissy fit. I'm sorry Kobo. Your passing was not in vain. Next time, I'll just sigh really loudly and try to get my legs out of the way. 

So, the books of March.

Satellite People by Hans Olaf Lahlum. Written in tribute to Agatha Christie, this mystery takes place in the late 60s and features the murder of a wealthy politician/business magnate by one of his 10 dinner guests. The number of suspects dwindle as they too are murdered. Given that the book was published in 2011, I couldn't quite get past some of the creepy, predatory vibe that the (adult, male) detective main character evinces against a couple of teenage girl characters. You can practically hear the rationale, "but they look so much older" or "they act so mature for their age!" -- which maaaaybe might be tolerable in a book actually written in the 60s but in a novel by a modern-day writer, nope. No thank you.   

Next came All My Puny Sorrows by Miriam Toews. Oh, so so so good. Toews is one of those writers that I try to read slowly to savour her work. I reread paragraphs just for their beauty. And yet, she's not at all "precious." Her characters feel authentic: flawed, beautiful, gifted, resentful, real. With the recent Supreme Court ruling in Canada about the right to die and many ongoing passionate discussions, it is also very timely. Yup, there may have been tears, quietly in the middle of the night by the glow of the now-dear-departed Kobo. Highly recommend.

A Good Thief's Guide to Amsterdam by Chris Ewan was fun to read since I was in Amsterdam, ya see. I totally knew sorta where he was talking about.

Darned if You Do by Monica Ferris, It's a Wonderful Knife by Christine Wenger, and A Disguise to Die For by Diane Vallere were the cozies in the line up this month. All your puns are belong to me.

Smashing Saxons by Terry Deary is part of the delightful "Horrible Histories" series. My son discovered them on his cousin's bookshelf when we were visiting and then the Easter Bunny brought a box set for our house. That Easter Bunny is so smart. This one was a particular delight for me because I remember many of the characters and events from the Old English class I took and loved way back when. Of course, these books take the mickey out of everybody, while actually teaching a fair bit. Angles and Saxons and Jutes -- oh my!

You know, just because you can write a book, Amy, doesn't mean you must write a book. Yes, Please by Amy Poehler starts with an introduction that begs readers to lower their expectations for the book. Interspersed throughout is commentary about how hard it is to write a book and how unpleasant. As you can imagine, it doesn't make for a consistently fun read. I think Amy Poehler surely has a highly entertaining, interesting book in her. This one isn't it.

February 2016: Aw yiss! Monkey-fighting breadcrumbs

The plan this month was to branch out. I had to. I was getting downright cranky about the samey-saminess in the cozy murder genre. So, branch out I did, at least in terms of genre. There is a strong contingent of Canadians amongst the writers I enjoyed this month, so I guess in some ways I kept it close to home. 

Directly from out of left field, Samantha Bee's I Know I Am, But What Are You? entertained the very heck out of me. She's a teller of toweringly tall tales, and yet they often ring with undeniable truth. Her description of family car camping in the Canadian unwilderness on the first long weekend of the season might have been wildly exaggerated or just barely so. 

Then, I moved on to Stone Mattress, a collection of nine short stories by Margaret Atwood. Creepy good. And I learned about Charles Bonnet Syndrome (CBS), which describes the strange but realistic visions sometimes experience by people with macular degeneration. Just a couple of weeks later, there was an article in our local paper about CBS. Ms. Atwood has the power to call such things into being, you see. 

On the mystery front, Kathy Reichs' Speaking in Bones was quite the page turner. Lest you think I abandoned the cozies entirely, I assure you that I did not. Betty Heichtman's Silence of the Lambs' Wool and Erika Chase's Book Fair and Foul each followed the tropes of the genre quite rigidly. Though I'm still a bit burnt out from January's pile, I enjoyed them. I mean, in one the main protagonist baked delicious things and ran a knitting retreat, and in the other the heroine and her mystery-solving friends talked books and hosted a book fair. I can't stay mad at that. 

Still Star-Crossed by Melinda Taub was a complete change of pace. It's the continuation of Romeo and Juliet. What happens in fair Verona in the weeks following the deaths of those coupla crazy kids? Being developed into a TV series by Shondaland (ooooo, exciting), this novel does a wonderful job of adapting the rhythms of Shakespeare's language for today's YA reader and it brings in a host of his characters from other plays set in his version of Italy.

I'm tempted to pass this one on to my 13-year-old because I think she'd love it, but since she hasn't yet taken Romeo and Juliet in school, I don't want her to get confused on the canon. So maybe in a year or so?  

Dr. Cory Franklin was the lone dude in the contingent this month. His Cook County ICU: 30 Years of Unforgettable Patients and Cases offers an entertaining memoir of his many years as an internist to both rich and poor. His medical career spanned a time of tremendous change in our society – from the earliest days of the AIDS epidemic to a time when its treatment has become pretty routine. He's a gifted storyteller and shares equally his proudest and his most humble-making moments. 

And finally, I savoured every page of Step Aside, Pops by Kate Beaton. I kind of don't even want to describe her comics because I'm not sure how to do it coherently. Tiny Hermione. Terrorist feminists. French revolutionaries. Wonder Woman. Mr. Darcy.  The comic above is one of a series where she tells the story of vintage book covers. In our family, m-f is a taboo word (we do have a few, trying not to completely fail at the social niceties) and "monkey-fighting" is our go-to substitute. If you can say "aw yiss, monkey-fighting bread crumbs" without the merest hint of a smirk, all I can say is GOOD. MORE KATE BEATON FOR ME.