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Why I named my dog Archie. weeklylizard: Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin at the movies (and on the radio). Read more here.
Every summer reading list needs a cozy mystery. This one is nestled in the community of Aix-en-Provence. Magistrate Verlaque oversees Commissioner Paulik’s investigation of a possible wine theft. A local vineyard is stunned to discover a number of irreplaceable bottles from its cellar.
Soon local law enforcement will wish the only crime they had to investigate was so innocuous. Mme D’Arras has gone missing and her husband is beside himself with worry. Unfortunately she will not return home from her wanderings like she has so many times before. Pauline D’Arras is found dead in a vineyard. Was it an accident? Did she snoop too much at her neighbors house? The mystery deepens, and Verlaque calls upon his very capable staff at the Palais de Justice to solve it.
Verlaque’s capable girlfriend, Marine Bonnet adds her observations to the mix. Her amateur detective skills come in handy on more than one occasion and everyday tasks become clues. Author Longworth gives her academic characters in the story local flavor:
Marine Bonnet shirted from foot to foot, angry that she was having to line up at the post office on the sole day when she didn’t have to teach. She had prepared the large manila envelope ahead of time, but the two automated machines that weighed and stamped parcels were out of order. she was pleased with her essay on the relationship, and admiration, that Honore Mirabeau — Aix-en-Provence’s famed politician and man of letters — had shared with Thomas Jefferson. She even thought that the paper could become a chapter in what she thought should be a new, sorely needed more modern biography of of Mirabeau. Pg. 65

The characters, regardless of their daily imperatives, manage to enjoy good wine, puff contraband cigars, and pick up fresh dinner ingredients at the market. Settings include well worn side streets, historic homes, and established wineries. It wouldn’t be a Bonnet & Verlaque mystery without it. And it’s clear that Longworth holds a special affinity for the lifestyle as well.
L’Agence de la Ville was Aix’s biggest and most luxurious real-estate agency, in a town that could almost boast more Realtors than doctors. It had a prime location on the Cours Mirabeau — on the north side of the café side, not the south bank side — so that one could stroll after a coffee and gaze at the framed, backlit color advertisements of bastides, stone mas, hôtels particuliers, lavish apartments, and even the converted barn or two. The houses were located in the most desirable areas of Provence: Aix and its environs, the southern Lubéron, and the Marseille coast. most of the properties had prices in the seven digits; for others, no price was given only the words “Inquire with us….” Pg. 188
Even amid the murders and mayhem, sun-soaked Southern France is held in high esteem. This book is a concise, compact and quick read — the perfect formula for a summer cozy.
Many thanks to Laura at Penguin for the review copy.
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ISBN: 9780143122449
304 pages
28 May 2013
Penguin
8.26 x 5.23in
18 – AND UP
Hello Dear Readers!
I have a great giveaway for you. Just leave a comment and be entered to win this new book. I just started reading it myself and am enjoying it quite at bit.
Description:
Hay-on-Wye, 1995. Peter Byerly isn’t sure what drew him into this particular bookshop. Nine months earlier, the death of his beloved wife, Amanda, had left him shattered. The young antiquarian bookseller relocated from North Carolina to the English countryside, hoping to rediscover the joy he once took in collecting and restoring rare books. But upon opening an eighteenth-century study of Shakespeare forgeries, Peter is shocked when a portrait of Amanda tumbles out of its pages. Of course, it isn’t really her. The watercolor is clearly Victorian. Yet the resemblance is uncanny, and Peter becomes obsessed with learning the picture’s origins.
As he follows the trail back first to the Victorian era and then to Shakespeare’s time, Peter communes with Amanda’s spirit, learns the truth about his own past, and discovers a book that might definitively prove Shakespeare was, indeed, the author of all his plays.
The kind folks at Viking/Penguin will send one copy of this brand new book to one lucky winner to an address in the Continental US. Here’s what you need to say in the comments:
1) Leave your first name
2) Include your email address in the following format — name (at) email (dot) com — to prevent spam.
3) Tell us your favorite work by Shakespeare.
I will contact the winner to get mailing address information. Entries open until Wednesday, May 15 at 6 p.m. PST. So get thee to the comment section!
Hazarajat, a central area of Afghanistan, has remained rural for centuries. Though modernity has seeped through the cracks of this archaic land, traditions have remained. One of those customs is storytelling. The authors bring their type of storytelling heritage to a Western audience.
In the city where I live now, all the stories are in books. They are studied in universities. I am not sure that these stories still pierce the flesh of those who hear them and make a life for themselves in the listener’s heart. In Afghanistan, we have very few universities and very few professors. The history of the Hazara is told in the fields, in our tents, in our houses. Many of the stories I heard when I was growing up, even those from centuries ago, came to life again before my eyes. Pg. 3-4
These interwoven stories feel ancient, as old as the Hazara people. Yet when the reader thinks they are hearing a story that took places many years ago, the narrator drops in a modern detail. It is slightly jarring, but it is effective. It reminds the reader that the themes of humanity remain the same, even if times change.

The tales surround a honey maker, a the search for a snow leopard, an unlikely musician, an unlikelier political dissident, and even an American baseball pendant.
The book also illuminates the culture of the Hazara people — sometimes with great humor.
Suspicion of strangers is as common amongst the Hazara as amongst any other people. The villagers watched the house about had once belonged to the wool-dyer to satisfy their curiosity about the new owner, and also to make sure that he was not a spy in the employment of Shah Zahir. It was thought, too, that the house of the wool-dyer might be cursed since it acted as a magnet for desperate people. Some of the older people of the town claimed that the house had been occupied by madmen even before the time of the wool-dyer. Pg. 81

The Honey Thief is a kind of modern-day 1001 Nights for the Hazara. It is a truly joyful set of fables. Anyone with an interest in storytelling traditions in vibrant cultures and hearing tales that truly resonate needs to read this book. It is destined to become a classic.
Many thanks to Jane at Viking / Penguin for the review copy.
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ISBN 9780670026487
304 pages
18 Apr 2013
Viking Adult
9.25 x 6.25in
18 – AND UP
In the turn-of-the-century New York City, a Syrian tinsmith names Arbeely is repairing a copper flask, when he unwittingly releases a jinni. The spirit has been captive an untold number of decades, unable to enjoy the freedom he once enjoyed. The tinsmith, stunned, takes in the wayward jinni. He gives him a cot and the name Saleh.
In the meantime, a golem without a master walks ashore. She can hear the thoughts of those around her, and in the tenements of Lower Manhattan there is plenty of desperation to be heard. A wise Rabbi Meyer sees the wandering golem and invites her in to his small room, giving her the name Chava.
The two supernatural creatures are adrift in the overwhelming city. Not only are they at the same crossroads as any other immigrant in America, they are also attempting to navigate it trapped in a human form. The two have separate narratives that eventually meet and intermingle. They bond over their similarities, but still struggle with how very alone in the world they are.
The Jinni walked north along Washington Street, wondering if he’d ever be truly alone again. At times the desert had felt too empty for him, but this opposite extreme was harder to bear. The street was no less crowded than the coffeehouse had been. Families thronged the sidewalks, all taking advantage of the warm weekend afternoon. And where there were not humans there were horses, a standstill parade of them, each attached to a cart, each cart carrying a man, each man yelling at the others to clear out of his way — all in a myriad of languages that the Jinni had never before heard but nonetheless comprehended, and now he was coming to resent his own seemingly inexhaustible resources of understanding. ~Pg. 102
They each become important members of their community, despite their insecurities. Saleh is noted for his incredible metalsmithing skills and fine artistry. Chava works in a Jewish bakery, kneading at superhuman speed. They have found some purpose in their jobs, yet something is still missing.
The book alternates between narratives and is interspersed with an even more ancient story from the Jinni’s past. In fact, this depth makes Saleh’s “side” of the story much more compelling than Chava’s. I found his character complicated but deliciously so. Chava was sympathetic but less interesting.
The novel also could have been about 75 pages shorter. At times the narrative slows too much. The lull lasts long enough for the reader to second guess himself.
The Golem and the Jinni will be a good read for a lazy summer day.
Many thanks to HarperCollins for the review copy.
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ISBN: 9780062110831
ISBN10: 0062110837
Imprint: Harper
On Sale: 4/23/2013
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 6 x 9
Pages: 496; $26.99
Ages: 18 and Up
I will once again be participating in Armchair BEA. I’ve had a great time these past 2 years and look forward to “meeting” even more fellow bloggers.
Watch this space from May 28-June 2 for themed posts and giveaways!
(Image by Nina of Nina Reads)
Perhaps what makes this novel so frightening is that it could happen to anyone. The devious plan is so deceptively simple that it barely registers as out of place.
The narrative alternates between two feisty heroines — Mina, an elderly resident of the quiet Higgs Point neighborhood in the Bronx and Evie, a young, talented, workaholic curator for a New York historical society. Evie has managed to escape her paltry childhood surroundings and all its unfortunate memories. She has crafted a life, albeit with blinders on, in Manhattan. It’s not so far as the crow flies, but it’s worlds away from her beginnings. When Evie’s mom suffers another alcohol-induced health crash, her sister Ginger insists it’s “Evie’s turn” to deal with crisis. In truth, both sisters are mentally and emotionally exhausted by their mother’s continued failings. Evie guiltily accepts her role and shuffles off to Higgs Point.
Meanwhile, Mina Yetner is the quintessential cranky old lady. But she is sharp as a tack and uses her busybody skills to help others in the neighborhood. When her neighbor, Evie’s mother, is taken away in an ambulance she is the one who calls the daughters. Mina and Evie strike up an unlikely partnership while Evie begins to clean up her mother’s house and sort estate matters.
I was reminded of Gaslight while reading this. Because of the dueling points-of-view, the reader is left to wonder where the reality is. Is there senility at work? Or perhaps the protagonist just isn’t seeing what they want to ignore? The suspense continually builds even as the characters begin to discover pieces of the puzzle.

Ephron works in crucial historical details that bring this book out of the realm of cheap thrills. For example, Evie’s current exhibit at the museum includes a display related to the B52 bomber that flew into the Empire State Building. And there is a minor thread surrounding Betty Lou Oliver who survived the 75-story drop when elevator cables broke. These things really happened and Ephron uses them to great effect. They make the story much, much richer.
The setting, Higgs Point, is not exactly that, but it is based on a real area. Harding Park did once have an amusement park (another subplot) at the turn-of-the-century. Here is a great post from Forgotten NY on the area. By tying the story so closely to reality, it is all the more frightening.
The novel is an approachable one and is easily read in a quiet afternoon. I look forward to more by Hallie Ephron.
Many thanks to the kind folks at William Morrow for the advanced review copy.
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ISBN: 9780062117601
ISBN10: 0062117602
Imprint: William Morrow
On Sale: 4/2/2013
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 6 x 9
Pages: 304; $25.99
Ages: 18 and Up

This is the The Talented Mr. Ripley for the newest generation. It’s a twisting tale of identity and the search for true companionship. Each chapter marks another episode in the young protagonist’s life.
The book opens with an “Author’s Note”, but this is only the first of many kindly deceptions. It’s not from the author Jansma, but rather the shifting personality of the narrator. In just the first paragraph, Jansma has already sketched a fascinating and compelling narrator.
I’ve lost every book I’ve ever written. I lost the first one here in Terminal B, where I became a writer, twenty-eight years ago, in the after-school hours and on vacations while I waited for my mother to return from doling out honey-roasted peanuts at eighteen thousand feet. ~Pg. 1
From there on, Jansma has the reader in his clutches. In each chapter, the narrator is a bit older, and coming in to his own. each chapter is a slight of hand that reveals itself to be a reiteration of the same basic story. Boy loves girl who is too far above him, and is already in love with another boy. But maddeningly, the reader somehow never sees it coming. This basic strand is so far buried in the massive, complicated tapestry that we forget all about it. Until it comes back to haunt us — and the narrator.
This narrator is a chameleon by choice, donning various cloaks until he finds one that he likes. He travels the world, from the Grand Canyon to Manhattan jazz clubs, to Sri Lankan jungles to the wilds of Africa. But each time around, there is a loop he cannot escape.

Writers and literary geeks will also enjoy the narrator’s inner voice as he struggles with his own writing. In an early chapter, he talks about the standard college composition class, filled with self-important egos and undiscovered voices. Yet, even there, words have power.
Julian held books right close up to his face — a habit formed, he explained, in his nearsighted youth — and now, even with the contact lenses in, he liked to have the page within a few inches of his eyes. So close that the pages scraped the tip of his nose as he turned them. So close that, when he inhaled sharply at a particularly good turn of phrase, the paper seemed to lift up slightly and tremble before settling back again. ~Pg. 40
And he waxes rhapsodic about the writing process.
I have always done my best work in crowded transportation hubs. Airports, train stations — a bus stop, one time — these have been like my personal little cafes doted along the Seine. I’d given up being a writer, aside from the essays that I sold to my shadowy students around the globe. ~Pg. 141
And somewhere in all of these philosophical musings and attempts at identity, the truth lies. Here we come back to that thread again. That thread is the writer’s truth, that which doesn’t change despite the various characters and plot twists that life brings at us.
I so enjoyed reading this book. It doesn’t get caught up in itself or become arrogant. Instead, it shows its narrator’s weaknesses for the entertainment of the reader. It’s thoughtful enough to be affecting, but remains accessible, and more than that, it is an enchanting book.
Many thanks to Lindsay and Elaine at Penguin for the review copy.
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Hardcover
9.25 x 6.25in
272 pages
ISBN 9780670026005
21 Mar 2013
Viking Adult
18 – AND UP

This book is a bizarre and twisted that deals with obsession. Told primarily in the third person but from the point-of-view of reporter and best-selling true crime author David Neff. With a nose for finding stories, David takes possession of an abandoned box of clippings and files about a cold case. The more he reads, the more he becomes obsessed about the missing young girls –just like all the detectives before him.
Meanwhile, the police are investigating a bizarre crime with an even stranger victim. The killer’s prey was a recluse, a man who rarely went outside, who had nonsensical items delivered to his house, a house in which he always wore mittens, the man from Primrose Lane.
Through a peculiar set of circumstances, Neff is implicated in the murder. Now on the run, his investigation becomes more than just an obsession — he needs to save his own skin.
The book sits outside of typical genres. It employs aspects of an edgy, modern murder mystery as well as science fiction and pulpy narratives.
There was one thing that annoyed him. He could take the coldness, the negativity, the migraines she sometimes got that kept her in bed for two days. he could forgive her forgetting his birthday and for always saying ‘effect’ when she really meant ‘affect.’ He could forgive her for leaving her blow dryer on his side of the bedroom vanity and for making him spray that floral stuff in the bathroom. He didn’t mind all this because he never took for granted the way her bottom lip puffed out a bit when she was drunk or the way she twisted her hair in her fingers when he lay in her lap watching television. The only thing that really annoyed him, the only thing he just could not get over, was her love of Christopher Pike, a late-eighties teen-lit horror novelist she’d become obsessed with in her sister’s absence. ~Pg. 45
The structure bounces between narrators and flashbacks, almost edited for the screen in some places, until it all comes together. I wanted to continue reading it, but it is rough going. It is not for the faint of heart. I would compare its graphic nature to an episode of Law & Order: SVU. All in all, I was engrossed in the story.

And I am unsurprised that it has already been optioned to be made into a movie. The film version will star Bradley Cooper, who is much more dapper than I imagined David Neff to be, but then again, don’t we all hope our own selves will be played by a more attractive doppelganger.
Many thanks to Gabrielle and Andrea at Picador for the review copy.
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Picador
March 2013
Trade Paperback
ISBN: 9781250024169
ISBN10: 1250024161
5 1/2 x 8 1/4 inches, 384 pages

It has all the makings of a Georgian era Agatha Christie novel — a house full of suspects, bizarre alibis, unsubstantiated timelines, inheritances, jealousy, and a bottle or two of poison.
When young soon-to-be baronet Theodosius Boughton dies unexpectedly one morning, a scandal erupts in the quiet countryside county of Warwickshire. Although not in tip-top shape, Theodosius was certainly not ailing in such a way as to portend death. What about the prescription that he complained “smelled of bitter almonds”? Was he poisoned? Or an accident? Or something else entirely?
Between a domineering Lady of the house, a bitter chambermaid, and a troubled son-in-law, did someone poison the young heir? Did the poor forensics after the fact obscure the true cause of death?

Cooke is thorough. She lines up court testimony, timelines, newspaper accounts, letters, and even John Donellan’s own treatise for his innocence. Cooke painstakingly compares these notes and finds discrepancies in the outcome of the trial.
The Mail On Sunday compared it to Kate Summerscale’s The Suspicions of Mr Whicher. It does have its similarities, but there is no narrator, as it were. Mr Whicher, a respected policeman and detective, serves as a guide through the murder at Road Hill House. With Cooke’s book we have no such character to turn to. As such the reader feels a bit more abandoned among the myriad suppositions and theories.
Mr Whicher and John Donellan do both suffer somewhat from the dryness of the facts. There is always a danger in presenting a case that academics can bog down the narrative. This does happen a bit here. For the most part it is forgivable, but about half way through the book there is one particularly rough patch where Cooke compares depositions with trial testimony and interjects her own suspicions. In this section the narrative is nearly entirely lost and the story gets a bit hard to follow.
The case has been cited numerous times as an example of the failings of the judicial system, or of poor defense representation. In effect, it has taken on a life of its own, especially in English courtroom history. But by the time it reached the judge and jury, much of the case had already been decided. Cooke adds the background with each ‘character’s’ history, heritage and personality. She does her best to give the case context and perhaps shed new light on a scandalous trial.
Many thanks to the folks at Bloomsbury Press / Walker Books for the review copy.
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*Now available in paperback*
Published: 10-02-2012
Format: Hardback
Edition: 1st
Extent: 304pgs
ISBN: 9780802779960
Imprint: Walker Books
Illustrations: 16p B&W ins.
Dimensions: 5 1/2″ x 8 1/4″
RRP: $25.00

Just in time for the release of Oz: The Great and Powerful, comes an all new edition of the original classic children’s story.
All the usual characters are there. Dorothy and Toto are swept up by a tornado and find themselves in the colorful land of Oz. There they meet up with witches — good and bad –, Munchkins, a scarecrow, a tin woodsman and a very tame lion. The group makes their way down the yellow brick road, through poppy fields, to the glowing Emerald City.
It’s impossible to not compare the original book with the film from 1939. Images of Judy Garland and Ray Bolger certainly flit across the back of one’s mind. And it’s fun to compare the text with what became the MGM classic. Most people are familiar with the fact that Dorothy’s magic shows were silver, but ruby red looked better in Technicolor.

One of the most disappointing cuts from book to movie are some of the smaller moments during their journey. We see the characters using the very thing they think they don’t have. The scarecrow creates cunning plans, the tin woodsman is inspired by his heart, and the lion acts with extreme bravery.
Michael Sieben has created all new illustrations for this edition. Again, not an easy task considering the iconic images that everyone has seen and known for their entire lives. The book is very colorful and full of these illustrations. While I recognize the artistic talent, their style is not for me. The characters are reminiscent of Raggedy Ann and Andy — not just the scarecrow, but all of them. They’re kinda creepy.

Aside from the artwork, I enjoyed revisiting this classic. The simplicity of the prose is something rare in children’s books over 100 years later. This is an excellent addition to an older child’s library.
Many thanks to Joel and Harper Design for the review copy.
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ISBN: 9780062018083
ISBN10: 0062018086
Imprint: Harper Design
On Sale: 2/19/2013
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 5 3/4 x 8 1/4
Pages: 224; $18.99
Ages: 18 and Up

Erin Kelly’s third novel puts a modern twist on a classic archetype: The English country house mystery. This is a chilling psychological tale, told from a number increasingly unreliable narrators.
The MacBride family is well-to-do and respectable. The patriarch is a lauded schoolmaster in a prim and proper English town. When the mother of the family dies with little warning, the family decides to continue their Guy Fawkes family tradition. They agree to meet at Far Barn, the homestead, for Bonfire Night, despite their mother’s absence. Tensions are high and everyone is walking on eggshells. Characters feel their resolve unravel — and then the real problems start.
Kelly deftly links together the various narrators. Each has a distinct voice, sometimes frighteningly so. They get into the reader’s head and even when they are clearly morally demented, we go along with their line of thinking – at least while they are talking. It makes it so much more than just storytelling. And as the reader becomes more and more engaged, the book begins to take on a snowball effect. Situations are more dire, and we read faster and faster, trying to stay ahead of the train that is barreling down upon us.

She is also adept at moody atmospheric. Here, the narrator approaches the main location of the book:
The road thinned to a one-track lane as they began the descent into the valley and dipped so steeply the children’s ears popped. As they came within a mile of the barn, the hedgerows themselves seemed to squeeze their oversized car along the road like a clot through a vein. Branches jabbed witchy fingers through windows, making the boys scream with something between terror and laughter, and Edie echo their sounds. The signpost for Far Barn, white paint on a black wooden plaque, had faded into illegibility but new visitors were rare. Will made the right turn into the rutted track that connected their land to the rest of the world.
The barn was a black mass on a cloud-blind night, the only sign of light or life the reflection of their own headlights in the blank windows and against the gloss of the ebony slats.
The book is fast-paced and suspenseful. It is a fine example of how powerful perceptions can affect not only one’s own life, but the domino effect on everyone else. It is chilling and a fantastic read.
Many thanks to Meghan with Viking/Penguin for the review copy.
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ISBN 9780670026722
336 pages
21 Feb 2013
Pamela Dorman Books
9.25 x 6.25in
18 – AND UP
I must admit – I never knew that Wyatt Earp was married. He was, by most accounts, a dashing and magnetic man. But for every larger-than-life aspect of his legend, there was Josephine (Marcus) Earp.
Daughter of a Jewish family, she struggled to find her own identity in Victorian Era America. When one could not be found, she invented it. Never well-off, her family moved from NY to San Francisco. According to Kirschner, “rate wars between rival railroads and steamship companies made it actually cheaper for some families to move than to pay the rent.” It was this exotic, West Coast port city that was a springboard for her coming adventures. Drawn to the west by the promise of fame and fortune, Josephine joined a travelling dance troupe. The act led her to Tombstone, AZ, then a mining boom town, grown up from the silver claims nearby.

Josephine Marcus EarpKirschner’s biography is gives only a cursory glance to the shootout at the O.K. Corral and Wyatt’s time in Tombstone. The main crux of the book is their life after Tombstone. Though the two were never married in a formal ceremony, they were inseparable for almost 50 years. A good chunk of the narrative is spent during their frontier days in Alaska during the Gold Rush. It seems these were some of her happiest days — at least her most enjoyable.
The inhospitable climate and smallness of the town loosened everyone up. Their bulky cold-weather clothes were a source of amusement, as well as a great equalizer. Josephine mockingly compared their exuberant and casual parties to a formal cotillion: ‘Have you not a picture in your mind of several couples with powdered wigs, the men in velvet coats and satin breeches, the women in full-hooped and panniered gowns, moving through the stately measures of a minuet with courtly grace to the accompaniment of violins and harpsichord? Then banish it! Put in its place one of the strong men in mackinaws, corduroys and mukluks, and fair ladies in corduroy jackets, short skirts and — yes mukluks — but moving through the stately measure of the dance with courtly grace to the accompaniment of a violin and a banjo!’ ~Pg. 101
These insights into frontier life are priceless. It is in these moments that their legend comes to life. At other times, the book becomes a litany of who went where and when, with little in the way of in depth context. The last third is devoted to Josephine’s increasingly futile attempts to shape history’s memory of Wyatt Earp and the shootout at the O.K. Corral.
It is overall an engaging book on an important character in American history who has been all but forgotten — partially because Josephine was constantly obscuring her own past. Kirschner does an excellent job of unearthing clues and piecing together Mrs. Earp’s story.
Many thanks to the folks at HarperCollins for the review copy.
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ISBN: 9780061864506
ISBN10: 0061864501
Imprint: Harper
On Sale: 3/5/2013
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 6 x 9
Pages: 304; $27.99
Ages: 18 and Up

Frustratingly little is known about Jane Austen. We don’t know what she looked like. There is only one drawing of her, as a youth, that is considered to be a portrait, but even some scholars don’t accept that.
In time for Jane Austen’s bicentennial year, Paula Byrne has put together a compilation of her life. Byrne chooses to inspect the famed writer’s past by sifting through objects in her life. It is almost like a scrapbook of the Austen family.

Each “thing” is an aspect of Jane’s life, and launches the chapter’s topic. ”The Card Of Lace” outlines a somewhat famous incident involving her aunt, Mrs. Leigh-Parrot’s shoplifting trial. But the chapter is really about Jane’s days in Bath and about the relationship with these wealthy-if-erratic relatives.
One of my favorite chapters is based on “The Theatrical Scenes”. When Rev. Austen determined to move his family from the Steventon parsonage, nearly all of its contents were placed up for auction. Though undoubtedly distressing for the Austen family, there is a great deal of information embedded in the ad in the local paper. Among the usual furnishings are listed a “set of theatrical scenes etc. etc.” With this tidbit, Byrne expands on the probable family dynamic as regards plays and recitals. From there, she further explores the idea of theatre in England at the time.
Another chapter begins with Jane’s brother’s military cap, and goes on to explore the siblings’ relationship as well as how military lives affected families of the era. Yet another focuses on a shawl and its representation of trade with the East. Throughout all of these examples, Byrne ties in passages and characters in Austen’s novels, showing how the author would have been inspired by what was around her.

Byrne’ research is impeccable. If there was anything to be found on Austen, she found it. And she was smart to structure the biography as she did — rather than a chronological effort. But because of the lack of direct information about Austen, the book is unfortunately peppered with holes. Byrne often leaves parenthetical notes such as “All letters from 1806 are gone”. The phrasing of her subject also includes distancing with caveats like “it is probable that” or “we can assume that”. While these are of course the right thing to do from an academic standpoint, it does waterdown the connection the reader has with Austen. With Byrne’s book on Evelyn Waugh, the reader is swept away by Waugh’s personality and fast-paced life. I hardly noticed I was reading a biography. In this, there is still a bit of distance between us and understanding Jane Austen. Byrne does her best to help us bridge that gap.
Thanks to the kind people at Harper for the review copy.
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ISBN: 9780061999093
ISBN10: 0061999091
Imprint: Harper
On Sale: 1/29/2013
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 6 x 9
Pages: 400; $29.99
Ages: 18 and Up

This book would have done better as a short story. It has the makings of a good yarn, but it draws things out much too long. If kept clean and simple, it would have been much more effective.
In 1952, a young woman, newly married, takes up a worn, dingy apartment with her husband. He insists their stay will be brief, while they save up enough money to move elsewhere. Young Isabel does her best to be patient and amuse herself while home alone. But her imagination and paranoia start to take over. The landlady, who lives upstairs, paces at all hours of the night, and keeps the house too cold. Isabel is convinced the lady is trying to drive her mad. Isabel’s husband, a doctor, is a rational man of science and does his best to calm her irrational fears, but his late night calls do little to help the situation.
One frigid night, Isabel finds an RAF coat, stuffed in a crevice in the wall of the decrepit flat. She uses it to keep herself warm at night, but she has opened up a portal to a time when Yorkshire was home to an airfield, when the skies were filled with Lancasters going on air raids and flight crews counted down the missions until they could go home. She begins to get visitations (ghostly, or perhaps imagined?), from a pilot. Is she just starved for attention? Or is she really seeing and speaking to this man?
As I said, this would have done much better as a short story. Elements of madness, ghosts, and unhappy characters made for some strong possibilities, but they were diluted by the word count. Any punch they might have packed were drawn down by giving the reader too much time to think about it.
I should mention that this book was published by Hammer, a new wing of the famed Hammer Films. In that regard, this book fits perfectly. There is enough to keep the reader turning the page, but no reason to return to it later.
Thank you to Hammer for sending me the review copy.
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Category: Book
Publication dates:
February 2, 2012 (UK – Hardback)
August 30, 2012 (UK – Paperback)
Language: English
Pages: 196
ISBN: 978-0099564935
Written by: Helen Dunmore

When I set to read a book that I plan to review, I come at it a little differently than just reading for fun. I make notes, mental and written, about style or themes that I want to mention in the review. And I dogear pages that have a passage I want to quote. Sometimes I don’t end up using them, if they give away the plot, for example. But to look at one of my books from the edge is sometimes amusing, with all the uneven corners.
Alibis is one of those books that I ran out of page corners to turn down.
André Aciman has put together a series of inspired essays. They are about place and memory, and one’s self in relation to them. It has a bit of philosophy in it, but the reader is so engrossed in the essays themselves, there is nothing didactic about it. Aciman is not lecturing us, only sharing his experiences. In do so, he reveals nuggets of truth that apply to us all.
The opening essay, Lavender, strikes a particular chord. It begins with his recollection of his father’s scent, but at its core is really about familiarity. Here, he writes about the empty lavender scent bottles that he cannot part with.
The bottles are stand-ins for me. I keep them the way the ancient Egyptians kept all of their household belongings: for that day when they’d need them in the afterlife. To part with them now is to die before my time. And yet, there are times when I think there should have been many, many other bottles there — not just bottles I lost of forgot about, but bottles I never owned, bottles I didn’t even know existed and , but for a tiny accident, might have given an entirely different scent to my life. There is a street I pass by every day, never once suspecting that in years to come it will lead to an apartment I still don’t know will be mine one day. How can I not know this — isn’t there a science? ~Pg. 9
Home and its importance for self-identity is another theme. He also muses how this affects the writer.
A hidden nerve is what every writer is ultimately about. It’s what all writers wish to uncover when writing about themselves in this age of the personal memoir. And yet it’s also the first thing every writer learns to sidestep, to disguise, as though this nerve were a deep and shameful secret that needs to be swathed in many sheaths. Some don’t evenknow they’ve screened this nerve from their own gaze, let alone another’s. Some crudely mistake confession for introspection. Others, more cunning perhaps, open tempting shortcuts and roundabout passageways, the better to mislead everyone. Some can’t tell whether they’re writing to strip or hide that hidden nerve.
I have no idea to which category I belong. ~ Pg. 87
Here again, even as a writer, Aciman is unsure where his home lies.
I loved following Aciman’s wanderings of the mind. It’s enjoyable, not daunting. I highly recommend this book. Keep it handy or when you need a quiet few minutes of thoughtful, intelligent reading.
Many thanks to Picador for the review copy.
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Picador
November 2012
Trade Paperback
ISBN: 9781250013989
ISBN10: 1250013984
5 1/2 x 8 1/4 inches, 208 pages

This collection of stories is frighteningly brilliant. Each is gently tied to the next by the tiny thread. This detailed stitching, when tugged, wrinkles and shapes the fabric around it.
I truly hesitate to explain much about the stories themselves. The reader should discover them for himself. I can say that Ogawa makes the completely ordinary and mundane absolutely unnerving. Her tales remind me of the more offbeat writings of Roald Dahl. (If you haven’t read The Incredible Story of Henry Sugar and Six More or The Umbrella Man, go and grab them now). Like Dahl, she has the ability to make reality surreal and the surreal seem perfectly real.

Take, for example, this first-person narrative in a hospital:
The walls are scuffed up, and the fluorescent light flickers creepily. The floor of the hall slopes down from the elevator, so the laundry cart rolls forward on its own, as though pulled by an invisible hand. Like it’s going to race down the hall and crash through the door of the morgue. That’s creepy , too.
To be honest, the morgue doesn’t scare me much. I don’t really understand why the other girls are so afraid of it. They see people dying all over the hospital, while they type their reports or eat cream puffs in the lounge. the job is even kind of nice, especially when she’s next to me. She’s as beautiful underground as she is in the office, her face all white and pale. ~Pg. 52
The book is translated by Stephen Snyder, who preserves the sparseness of the prose and allows Ogawa’s dark writing to fall like a ton of bricks in the reader’s lap.
This dark, labyrinthian collection was arresting and gorgeous. As unnerving as the stories are, I could not stop devouring them. I’m so pleased Picador has brought them to the US.
Many thanks to Picador USA for the review copy.
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Picador
1/29/2013
Trade Paperback
ISBN: 9780312674465
ISBN10: 0312674465
Rough Front/Deckel Edge
5 1/2 x 8 1/4 inches, 176 pages
In Fox’s follow-up to The Somnambulist, she eschews the sprawling country estate for the dank warren of the Limehouse district. Found floating in the river, like a Victorian Moses, baby Pearl is plucked from the Thames. But she enjoys no pharoah’s life. She is raised by the mysterious but efficient Mrs. Hibbert. The woman of the House of Mermaids does her utmost to keep Pearl safe from the leering men and from knowing about the den of iniquity in which she lives. Finally, to remove her from other’s temptations, Pearl, who has webbed toes and is inordinately pale, is sold off to a brilliant but obsessive painter. She becomes his mermaid.
Simultaneously, twin orphans, Elijah and Lily, are being raised by a kindly, if naïve, older man. He sends the children with his younger brother Frederick to visit London for a bit of adventure. Uncle Freddie is the fun, popular uncle who indulges the children’s whims, including taking a trip to Cremorne Gardens.

Amidst the music, games and sideshows, the twins happen to meet Pearl. The meeting is brief but the connection is instant.
This Dickensian-style novel is much darker and grittier than her first. Characters endure forced institution and unwanted advances. There are graphic descriptions of horrific surgeries. It is not for the faint of heart, but neither is it gratuitous. Alternating narratives eventually intertwine as the trio of young people try to reunite, but it will come at a price. Asylums, kidnappings, art and obsession will stand in their way.
Water, in all its forms and effects, is clearly a theme here. But so is personal liberty (or the lack there of), particularly for females. Every female character is in some way trapped. A speech by the psychiatrist Dr Cruikshank typifies the leading attitude of mental professionals. :
He was tapping his cane against his thigh while sliding closer to Freddie and speaking confidentially. ‘Women are so like children, you see, in their appetites for unhealthy food. It is the heat and overexcitement that causes most of the trouble…not to mention this modern obsession with reading books and magazines. You will note we have none available here. Why, half the women in my care would probably be entirely sane but for the stimulation brought on by the use of literature. I say that might be the problem…’ ~Pg. 286
The very idea that reading and imagination is damaging is an idea that can be dismissed now, but was a common theory then. It demonstrates that even the most “free” woman — well-to-do, cared for, even happily married — would have so much predetermined for her.
Yet through all of this, the three young people manage to find a sense of self. Even more impressive, they determine to fight for it.

Again, Fox demonstrates a deep knowledge of the time, the setting and the dialogue. She opens each chapter with a quote from a popular song or story of the era — Wilkie Collins, Charles Kingsley, Poe, Greenwell, Carroll. And, as before, the entire tome is begun with a familiar painting, this time The Mermaid, by JW Waterhouse. The author immerses us in the dreadful but compelling underworld of a not-so-distant past.
As with the Somnambulist, this book does not have a US publisher. Interested readers can purchase it via this direct link to The Book Depository, which has free worldwide shipping. You can also read the first few pages here. My thanks to Essie Fox and her UK publisher, Orion Books, for the review copy. (Yes, I saved the stamps.)
Please visit the author’s site for more info about this era and her works. It’s also just really fun to explore.
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ISBN: 9781409123354
Publication date: 08 Nov 2012
Page count: 416
Width: 153 mm
Height: 235 mm
Thickness: 34 mm
Weight: 542 g
Jones’ overview of the Tower of London’s thousand year history was no doubt a massive undertaking. Imagine it: ten centuries worth of sieges, celebrations, world-altering decisions, wrongful deaths and sovereign decrees all held within these walls, on just a few acres of land.

Jones visits the (in)famous as well as the less well-known. Henry VIII’s wives are well represented, as is the disreputable reputation of torture of its prisoners. But it also unearths more obscure facts like Issac Newton’s position as the Warden of the Mint. For several hundred years the coins of the realm were stamped on the grounds. And I only knew of the menagerie because of my visit there last year. But I didn’t realize that William Blake visited the tiger in order to observe the “fearful symmetry” of the fierce cat.

Jones’ indexed book is well-researched and, while educational, it is far from dry. This is partially due to the Tower’s rich history, but Jones also presents the information in an absorbing manner. It manages to encompass the years 1078 to present day all within an approachable format. His rich descriptions bring the ancient past to life:
Minting money was hot, hard, laborious, noisy and dangerous work. The interior of the mint’s workshops were a hellish inferno full of the clash and splash of metal, both hard and molten. A sweaty, smoky, smelly world where hammers clanged deafeningly and glittering, jagged splinters of precious metal and molten droplets flew through the filthy air, causing painful injuries. Few mint workers escaped their service without losing a finger or an eye to their risky craft. ~Pg. 35
A good deal of my knowledge of British regicidal history comes from Shakespeare’s plays. It was enjoyable to put those pieces together with the documented stories, and learn more about the place I was fortunate enough to visit. Surely there are layers yet to be discovered, and there is no doubt that some things will just never be known.
This is an excellent handbook for those interested in English history in general as well as the past days of the Tower. I cannot wait to visit again, now with this insight.
** I suggest following @ravenmaster1 on Twitter. Chris Skaife is the official Ravenmaster for the Tower of London and posts great pictures from the site.
Thank you to St. Martin’s Press for the review copy.
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October 2012
Hardcover
ISBN: 9780312622961
ISBN10: 0312622961
6 1/8 x 9 1/4 inches, 464 pages
Plus one 16-page b&w photo insert and map endpapers
Yes, the novel is as gorgeous as the cover. Ethereal, impactful*, vintage and evocative. The heroine, Maribel, is the vivacious wife of parliamentary representative Edward Campbell Lowe. Himself a boisterous, outspoken politician, the two make an unforgettable pair, if an unlikely one.
Maribel employs her energies in photography, working to capture true images — something all too elusive in Victorian London. She attempts to find some truth among the Native Americans that are in London with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show. Ever the gracious host, William Cody is welcomes her into his massive encampment.

Maribel also make subjects of her dear friend, Charlotte, and unfortunate ruffians of London’s less affluent neighborhoods. One of these photographs is smudged in such a way that spiritualist believe it to be an example of supernatural intervention. Ever the realist, Maribel staunchly denies such a claim and refuses to allow its publication.

This is but one of Maribel’s struggles to uphold truth in a world so reliant upon appearances. But Maribel hides a secret of her own. As she tries to help her own husband succeed in Parliament, she risks peeling back the layers of her own beautiful lies. In the midst of all of this, tabloid journalism is on the rise in London and a ruthless bloodhound of a newspaper man is on her scent.
The prose is honest and modern, despite the vintage setting. Sentences roll and swirl and drip off the tongue.
The tea party was breaking up when the two women took their leave. It was a warm evening, one of the first of the season and the moon floated like a pale wafer in the darkening sky. Along the river the trees were ghostly with blossom. ~Pg. 37
For years Ida had kept a picture of the saint [Joan of Arc] tucked inside her Bible so that she could look at it during the sermon on Sundays. She said it was so that she would remember that being clever and fighting people was sometimes what God wanted you to do, even if you were a girl. On the say that Ida did not want to be an elephant keeper when she grew up, she wanted to be a soldier-saint like Joan of Arc. Sometimes they slipped out late at night, when the others were all asleep, creeping across the garden and into the woods beyond. The woods were full of strange loud noises, foxes screaming and owls hooting and trees moving restlessly in the earth. Maribel held Ida’s hand and told her it was essential for an actress to understand fear, but Ida was not afraid. She turned cartwheels on the lawn, her nightgown a pale ghost in the darkness, and said that in the night the world was more exciting because you could not see where it ended. ~Pg. 82
Maribel hoped that he was right. More than that she hoped that there would be someone at Mr. Linnell’s graveside who knew what he had likes to do on a Sunday afternoon, that he had felt the cold and liked marmalade and knew how to whistle, that he had a way with dogs and had once ridden a bicycle without holding onto the handlebars. ~Pg. 344
This novel is exceedingly well-written and very engrossing. It clocks in at an even 500 pages, and easily could have devoured 500 more.
A great many thanks to Houghton Mifflin Harcourt for the review copy.
*I’ve just had a very intriguing conversation with @cliche_mist about my use of the word “impactful.” I admit that I was doubtful when I wrote it and so I looked it up. I did find it listed in Merriam-Webster’s dictionary. Still, my learned friend contends that standard usage dictionaries often allow for slang and non-words to gain a foothold in the English language. What are your thoughts?
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ISBN-13/ EAN: 9780151014675
ISBN-10: 0151014671
Price: $26
Format: Hardcover, 512 pages
Publication Date: 2012-09-18
Trim Size: 6 x 9
Stewart’s travelogue is as addicting as the tales of the lost city itself. A freelance writer from Brooklyn, Stewart heard about Ciudad Blanca during an interview with a US solider who had endured the Honduran jungle. Like many who hear stories of far-flung secrets, Stewart was hooked. He scoured satellite images from Google Earth, questioned anyone who is an expert in the field and even contacted relatives of explorer Theodore Ambrose Morde, who searched for the city swallowed by the Honduran jungle back in late 1939 and most of 1940.
In this book, Stewart juxtaposes his own travels and travails with Morde’s. Morde kept a fairly consistent journal — though he maddeningly left out coordinates to the actual city — and with these constant comparisons one realizes just how little has changed in the past 70 years on the Mosquito Coast. It is still miles and miles between villages, sometimes individual shacks. It is a wonder that people live there at all.
Morde returned to America a hero, having claimed to have found a city that he would one day return to excavate and explore. Then WWII began and he was recruited as a spy. He never got back to the magical place in the jungle mist. And he was always rather vague about what he saw. So what was Cuidad Blanca?
For Stewart’s part, he embraces his own weaknesses and does nothing to gloss over his own fears and doubts in the maddening trek. He is perfectly willing to share his own failings in his own journal of sorts. At times the jungle puts him on the brink of madness; at others it offers a clarity in which he can see things perfectly for the first time.

This is a detective story and an adventure in one. Stewart tries to unravel Morde’s cryptic clues while survive days upon days of humid, rugged terrain, dangerous bandits, poisonous wildlife and mental struggles.
The legend of the “white city” hasn’t lost any attention either. Just this summer, a piece was published about laser imagery finding the remains of the city. It says a great deal about human nature, as does Stewart’s book. The inkling inside each of us to explore and find “discover” something that was unknown, or lost — Atlantis, the Library of Alexandria, or the Holy Grail — and not just for wealth and fame. To be the one who did it, who accomplished something considering impossible.
This is a fascinating read and it’s got me wanting to go dig up by backyard. Just to see…
Thank you to HarperCollins for the review copy.
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ISBN: 9780061802546
ISBN10: 0061802549
Imprint: Harper
On Sale: 1/8/2013
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 6 x 9
Pages: 288; $27.99
Ages: 18 and Up
Occasionally I sift through the half-read books I have been sent to read and review. These are the ones that didn’t get dragged around town with me, or passed along to a friend. These are the ones that I kept by the bedside, promising myself I would go back to finish. But I haven’t, for one reason or another. Time is always one those poor excuses but there is something else. I didn’t really try to make the time either. Something about these books just didn’t grab me and demand that I devour them. I can’t (and don’t) say that they are bad. Maybe I just didn’t meet them at the right time in my life. I always feel a bit blasphemous admitting that I didn’t “get into” a book, so I hope my readers will forgive me.
For that reason, I give them a fair but incomplete (and brief) look here, with my apologies.
ANGELMAKER by Nick Harkaway
I think it was the sheer density of this one that got to me. Complicated and intense, it requires complete concentration and good chunk of time to get into the steampunkish world that Harkaway is creating. What I read, I liked, but I was slightly overwhelmed. I plan to revisit it.
MR. FOX by Helen Oyeyemi
I made it past the halfway point with this one. In this case, I felt left behind by some of the magical realism. I’m a fairly astute reader but I was always feeling like a missed something — and not in the good way. Oyeyemi has an interesting way of storytelling and readers who enjoy engaging multiple dimensions at once will enjoy.
FAKES
An Anthology…
This is a collection of unusual short stories, really. Each is a “fake” document. These include a letter of complaint, an instruction manual, a works cited page, tweets from Chaucer and more. While some are amusing and insightful, the books more often than not veers off into hipster-land (aka an Urban Outfitters). I read about three quarters of it, skimming the more lackluster items.
If you are as anxious for the series premiere of Downton Abbey as I am, then you know what it is to be captivated by good writing.
Fill those dreary hours, waiting for the return of the Grantham household and the Dowager Countess’s quips by joining the Passing Bells trilogy read-along, hosted by bookclubgirl.
And thank you to HarperCollins for the review copy so I can read along too!
I’m ashamed to say this was the first Sayers novel I have read. I can’t imagine why, other than I assumed them to be like Agatha Christie and there were already so many of hers to read. And I don’t remember my childhood library having any of her books, (they may have) but there was a endless row of black-bound, gold-embossed Christie titles. So with these rereleases I decided to turn a new leaf as well and include her mysteries.
Strong Poison is a Lord Peter Wimsey mystery, featuring Harriet Vane. Based on her character it appears that there were more later. Wimsey (as suggested by his name) is the kind of person who goes where the wind takes him. As a friend of barristers and with a particular penchant for sitting in on trials, Wimsey takes it upon himself to solve a confusing case. Harriet Vane, a crime novelist, has been accused of poisoning her fiancé, but Wimsey is unconvinced. While the trial is on hold, he investigates his hunches.

Wimsey and the tale are a blend of Nero Wolfe and Jeeves and Wooster. In the heady of days of the Bright Young Things, where it seems nothing can touch the sparkling upper echelons of society, Lord Peter amuses himself among the working class. His character at first seems selfish and flighty, but although he wants to occupy his time, he truly does believe in her innocence and wants to see her acquitted.
The prose is light and playful, and glides along over the marbled halls of justice and entryways of grand houses. The dialogue, too, reflects this whimsical time.
“You don’t mean to say you admired her, Frank?”
“Oh, well, I dunno. But she didn’t look to me like a murderess.”
“And how do you know what a murderess looks like? Have you ever met one?”
“Well, I’ve seen them at Madame Tussaud’s.”
“Oh, wax-works. Everybody looks like a murderer in a wax-works.” ~Pg. 33
And no good detective is anywhere without his sidekick. Lord Peter Wimsey has his invaluable valet, Mr. Bunter.
By what ingratiating means Mr. Bunter had contrived to turn the delivery of a note into the acceptance of an invitation to tea was best known only to himself. At half-past four on the day which ended to cheerfully for Lord Peter, he was seated in the kitchen of Mr. Urquart’s house, toasting crumpets. He had been trained to a great pitch of dexterity in the preparation of crumpets and if he was somewhat lavish is the matter of butter, that hurt nobody except Mr. Urquart. ~Pg. 101
The book is jaunty and fast-paced. Readers who enjoy quick, fluid cozies, should snuggle up with a cup of tea and give it a read.
Thank you so much to Regina at Bourbon Street Books / HarperCollins for the review copy.
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ISBN: 9780062196200
ISBN10: 0062196200
Imprint: Harper Paperbacks
On Sale: 10/16/2012
Format: Trade PB
Trimsize: 5 5/16 x 8
Pages: 288; $14.99
Ages: 18 and Up
The hijinks are back and the result is another heart-breaking and wonderful compilation of thoughts and images. Hosted by HitRecord, artists and dreamers post bits of artistic ephemera. The result is an open-source collaboration space. People can grab, alter, add and repost, creating never-before-imagined works.
This book is a selection of the best of the best, chosen by Joseph Gordon-Levitt and “wirrow”, one of the collaborators. The proceeds from the book are split 50/50 with the artists whose work appears.
As with the first volume, the book brings together witty observations and devastating truths. The thoughts are somehow both very real and yet just beyond the reach of reality.
This is a fantastic gift, especially for those looking to support independent artists.
Many thanks to Joel for the review copy.
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ISBN: 9780062121639
ISBN10: 0062121634
Imprint: It Books
On Sale: 11/13/2012
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 4 1/2 x 6 1/2
Pages: 96; $14.99
Ages: 18 and Up
I have a love/hate relationship with Paris. Like many people, I expect, I had a romanticized notion of Paris, which I was quite aware was unreal. But I still wanted to see the storied place of Latrec, Ilse Bing, Cocteau, Hugo, Doisneau, and Brassaï. There must be something that drew them, inspired them all.
If there was, they took it with them.
Although there were certain things that we did that we enjoyed, as a city, a place, it was dreadful. It was dirty, with rotting small animals left in public parks. Every few years another agressive peddler tried to sell you the same cheap trinket. The Metro was filthy and not well-run. But I somehow managed to take stunning photos. Maybe that is Paris’ spell.
I couldn’t help but think all this as I read Lacava’s fantastic memoir. She was moved to France as a thirteen year old. Already fragile, she is thrown into a new world, a new school, new country, new language. One of her coping mechanisms is to collect random objects that are important to her. No one seems to understand it, or her thought process, or even the inner pain she is experiencing.

The book is series of intertwined episodes during this confusing time. Each essay shimmers along until the little asterisk signals a tangential explanation. The footnotes sometimes last for three pages, dwarfing the “actual” text. But this is the charm, and indeed, the strength of this memoir. As the reader, we are given insight into how Lacava’s nonlinear thinking works.
Alone and unaccepted by other girls, I also loved biographies or fiction about alluring and iconoclastic women who would come to feel like real-life companions. Reading was a Pascalian diversion; stories and facts were a distraction from spiraling thoughts. I had always hated loudness. It was loud enough in my head.
This mania extended to animals, people, and places — a city, even strangers in the street. I had a game where I liked to imagine what sort of pajamas each passerby might wear. This came from a belief that the more I know about the inner lives of others, the more I might understand the world. Collecting information and talismans is a way of exercising magical control. You can hold a lucky charm and known everything about nature’s creatures yet still be terribly lonely. ~Pg. 3
In some ways, I think many young girls who are “different” but brilliant have these inner conversations and games. It’s a way to exercise the mind without exposing themselves to ridicule.

Her writing is unflinching. She is brutally honest about her self and her familial disappointments, but this is not a self-indulgent pity party. This is insightful writing at its best — and it’s an extremely enjoyable read.
My sincere thanks to the folks at Harper for the advance review copy and for sending the images for me to inlcude.
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ISBN: 9780061963896
ISBN10: 0061963895
Imprint: Harper
On Sale: 12/4/2012
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 5 x 7 1/4
Pages: 224
$23.99
Ages: 18 and Up
Perhaps it comes as no surprise that this book is a wonderful window into an era past. Like Agatha Christie’s autobiography, the book is comprised of her life in her own words. Her grandson Mathew Prichard has painstakingly gathered her letters and postcards from her trip to a countries in the Dominion. She and her (first) husband were invited to accompany a Mr. Bates, Major Blecher and the Hiam family as part of a special envoy. They were acting as part of what was called the Dominion Mission of the British Empire Exhibition.
The exhibition itself was held in 1924-25 at Wembeley, which at the time, was the largest exhibition ever held. This merry party set out ahead of the exhibition to visit the various countries that would be presenting. Their stops included South Africa, Australia, New Zealand, Honolulu and Canada. And a young, adventurous Agatha relished every moment of it.
She took a number of photographs (many of which have been printed in this book) as well as sending home letters and notes about her travels. She also kept a diary of her exploits abroad. These writings were well before those that would make her famous, but her sharp sense of humor is well in evidence.
Belcher is becoming very irritable. I don’t wonder really for his leg and foot are quite bad, bursting out in new places. The doctor says he must lie up and rest it, and he says he can’t afford the time. Bates had forgotten to get him more carbolic, and he’d had a tight boot on all day, the food in the hotel was atrocious, and the doctor has cut hum down to one whiskey and soda a meal, so matters nearly reached a climax last night! Also, he is getting very fed up with Major Featherston, who attaches himself to Belcher like a faithful dog, and comes up at all house of the day and night. ~Pg. 64
And later, Agatha assists in a funny and harmless prank.
She also takes up surfing, something that isn’t the first thing you might think of in association with the writer of Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot.

Interspersed in all of this fun and adventure, there are insights into her personal life. She left her young son at home in the capable hands of her nanny and her mother. There are also glimpses of a certain level of discontent with her husband Archie.

In addition to being of interest to literary fans, it is also an important record of the Golden Age of Travel and the reach of the British Empire between the wars. The idea that one could leave home for more than a year, and spend a month or two in one place is a level of luxury that is rarely available any more, but was somewhat common then. I’m not sure I will ever cease being fascinated with such a lifestyle.
In short, this book is a wonderful glimpse into the past, at one of the most prolific writer’s private life, and into the wit of a seemingly lovely lady.
Many thanks to the folks at HarperCollins for the review copy, and for sending images for inclusion in this post.
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ISBN: 9780062191225
ISBN10: 0062191225
Imprint: Harper
On Sale: 11/20/2012
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 7 x 9 1/8
Pages: 384; $29.99
Ages: 18 and Up
Anyone who has read my blog knows that I am no stranger to classic film. What with a Masters degree under my belt and an insatiable desire to fill up my DVR with obscure films playing on TCM, I’ve seen more than is probably healthy. And I’m certain I’ve seen at least one with Lyle Talbot.
With this book, Margaret Talbot has not only chronicled her father’s early life, but also the childhood of American cinema. Beginning with the roots of travelling buskers, then magic lanterns and early silents, we see this endlessly creative era though Lyle Talbot’s eyes.
The world that Lyle inhabited in his twenties and the country’s is a lost world — the world of traveling theater troupes and local repertory companies that, before the definitive arrival of mass entertainment, could still command people’s desires and imaginations. Soon it would be overwhelmed, first by radio and movies, then by television. But from the 1880s till the late 1920s, touring companies were what brought America its most reliable entertainment, what sparked, season after season and however creaky the machinations on stage, its sense of make-believe.
…
Giving happiness in this way could be an arduous business, though. True, traveling actors of the 1910s and 1920s didn’t have it as hard as their predecessors in the nineteenth century. Traveling players in the early nineteenth century had been men and women of Bunyanesque stamina: they almost had to be, just to cover as much ground as they did in the years before the railroad. They trekked ahead on foot to post their one-sheet advertisements on rocks and trees; performed in barns, mills, stables, attics and hotel lobbies, for audiences perched in rough-hewn benches and logs, before footlights that might consist of tallow candles stuck into potatoes or beer kegs that had been nailed to the floor. ~Pg. 90-1

Lyle it seems did a little bit of everything. From working as an assistant for a carnival hypnotist’s to starring with 1930s starlets to being in Ed Wood’s infamous Plan 9 From Outer Space. Also with James Cagney, Bette Davis and Olivia de Havilland, he fought for actor’s rights and helped to co-found SAG.
In many ways, daughter Margaret was a lucky biographer. Lyle loved telling stories about his decades in show business. And there is plenty of archival material to pull from. Still, there is always a level of separation between generations. Only our imaginations can try to realize what that era must have been like. But the author does a fabulous job getting us there.

As a reader, I think any sort of memoir is a terribly brave thing to tackle, but even more so when it is a dear family member. You are bound to uncover things you never knew or actions you can’t understand. It is unnerving to recall that all parents had a life before you arrived. This, too, Margaret does with grace. She doesn’t sugar-coat anything but neither does she vilify or write-off Lyle’s shortcomings. And he is a much more real person to us, the readers.
Here she recalls some of his philosophy while writing about his final years:
I guess we had all come to cherish the old pro in him, the instincts of the workhorse actor, the ability to get out there and turn on the brights for the audience. My father didn’t talk much about the philosophy of acting, except to say that he didn’t believe in Method acting. He didn’t believe you should try to lose yourself in a role, merge your identity with it, access your own buried emotion. You always had to remember you were acting; you could get emotional, but you had to maintain control. If he had a credo, it was a credo of entertaining. You owed something to the people who came to see you. You did a job for them. You kept working for as long as you could, with as much love as you could muster. That didn’t make him the best actor, and it didn’t make him a star, but it made him a lifelong working actor, a man who raised a family without ever working at anything he cared for less than he did for acting. ~Pg. 400
I truly enjoyed reading this book. Margaret Talbot’s telling of her father’s life is nostalgic but not sentimental. And it’s a truly American story — A Midwestern, bootstrap, just keep trying kind of story. Furthermore, it’s a reminder to the younger generations, to ask their parents and grandparents for stories. You may not have a film star in the family, but their story is important too.
Thank you to the folks at Riverhead for the review copy.
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ISBN 9781594487064
432 pages
Hardcover
$28.95
08 Nov 2012
Riverhead
9.25 x 6.25in
18 – AND UP
I had the great fortune to see Caberet at Studio 54 in NYC about 10 years ago. I also had the great fortune to not have known very much about it. The impact of the show was overwhelming. Years later, I began my work in a cinema studies masters program and I learned about Ufa and Weimar cinema.
There is something about that era — the unknown, the desperation, the incredible talent and angsty verve — that is fascinating.

What surprised me in reading this book was Isherwood’s prose style. It is wonderfully balanced. It is nostalgic but not saccharine. It is an unflinching look at the crumbling façade in pre-war (WW2) Germany. And it is filled with dramatic characters, most famously Sally Bowles. She is a almost like an ex-pat version of Daisy Buchanan, but deeper — and I find, more sympathetic.
But beyond her is the fierce but often funny Frl. Schroeder. In fact, I found the landlady to almost act as a Greek chorus for the reader. She often pipes in with witty comments and sage observations.
But perhaps the most vivid character is Berlin itself.
The extraordinary smell in this room when the stove is lighted and the window shut; not altogether unpleasant, a mixture of incense and stale buns. The tall tiled stove, gorgeously coloured, like an altar. The washstand like a Gothic shrine. The cupboard is also Gothic, with carved cathedral windows: Bismarck faces the King of Prussia in stained glass. My best chair would do for a bishop’s throne. In the corner three sham medieval halberds (from a theatrical touring company?) are fastened together to form a hatstand. Frl. Schroeder unscrews the heads of the halberds and polishes them from time to time. They are heavy and sharp enough to kill.
Everything in the room is like that: unnecessarily solid, abnormally heavy, and dangerously sharp. Here, at the writing-table, I am confronted by a phalanx of metal objects — a pair of candlesticks shaped like entwined serpents, an ashtray from which emerges the head of a crocodile, a paperknife copied from a Florentine dagger, a brass dolphin holding on the end of its tail a small broken clock. ~Pg. 4
And the home of one of the narrator’s English students sounds like something out of Metropolis:
The hall of the Bernsteins’ house has metal-studded doors and a steamer clock fastened to the wall with bolt-heads. There are modernist lamps, designed to look like pressure-gauges, thermometers, and switchboard dials. But the furniture doesn’t match the house and its fittings. The place is like a power station with the engineers have tried to make comfortable with chairs and tables from an old-fashioned, highly respectable boarding house. On the austere metal walls hang highly varnished nineteenth-century landscapes in massive gold frames. ~Pg. 16
The book is like an impressionist’s painting. These small sketches are linked together to make a hauntingly beautiful portrait of a heady era in Berlin.
Many thanks to the folks with New Directions for the review copy.
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Publication Date: September 27, 2012
Paperback $ 15.95
224 pages
ISBN 9780811220248
Let me start by saying that this is not your typical collection. It is not a juried contest or an annual anthology, edited by an acclaimed professor. This is about writers, and what speaks to them.
Pulled from the archives of The Paris Review, writers of today gush, er, introduce each selection. The intros range from fan letters to analysis.
As Jeffrey Eugenides writes in his introduction to Denis Johnson’s story:
A short story must be, by definition, short. That’s the trouble with short stories. That’s why they’re so difficult to write. How do you keep a narrative brief and still have it function as a story? Compared to writing novels, writing short fiction is mainly a question of knowing what to leave out. What you leave in must imply everything that’s missing. ~Pg. 96
The stories in this book range in length, style, tone, narrator and era. You can skip around, like I did, looking for the story that suits your mood. What doesn’t vary is the literary quality — the sort we’ve all come to expect from the editors of The Paris Review.
The book includes stories by the following:
Daniel Alarcón · Donald Barthelme · Ann Beattie · David Bezmozgis · Jorge Luis Borges · Jane Bowles · Ethan Canin · Raymond Carver · Evan S. Connell · Bernard Cooper · Guy Davenport · Lydia Davis · Dave Eggers · Jeffrey Eugenides · Mary Gaitskill · Thomas Glynn · Aleksandar Hemon · Amy Hempel · Mary-Beth Hughes · Denis Johnson · Jonathan Lethem · Sam Lipsyte · Ben Marcus · David Means · Leonard Michaels · Steven Millhauser · Lorrie Moore · Craig Nova · Daniel Orozco · Mary Robison · Norman Rush · James Salter · Mona Simpson · Ali Smith · Wells Tower · Dallas Wiebe · Joy Williams
Many thanks to the folks at Picador for the review copy.
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Picador
October 2012
Trade Paperback
ISBN: 9781250005984
ISBN10: 1250005981
Rough Front/Deckel Edge
5 1/2 x 8 1/4 inches, 368 pages
Despite my penchant for British literature, I must admit that this was my first foray into Amis. A complicated person in his own life, he seems to have attempted to shed some of his anxieties on his characters. Indeed, the title character James Dixon is dissatisfied professor of medievalism. He was surely drawing on some of his own teachers while at Oxford, no doubt sometimes unhappy in their own situation.
Despite this, the reader finds James Dixon trying to meet the requirements to survive his trial year and achieve tenure at the regional and unacclaimed university. He must navigate the elite company he finds himself among, including a vapid boss and an emotionally irresponsible squeeze, all the while searching out the nearest place to get a few pints.
Amis’ writing has been compared to Wodehouse and Waugh, but that doesn’t quite describe it. Lucky Jim is denser and less accessible than Wodehouse. Amis’ characters are darker and disturbed. And Waugh had a eviscerating tone that accompanied his angsty young people. Here Amis finds humor in middle aged pretension. And it often is uncomfortably funny.
Dixon ran his eye along the lines of black dots, which seemed to go up and down a good deal, and was able to assure himself that everyone was going to have to sing all the time. He’d had a bad setback twenty minutes ago in some Brahms rubbish which began ten seconds or so of unsupported tenor — more accurately, of unsupported Goldsmith, who’d twice dried up in face of a tricky interval and left him opening and shutting his mouth in silence. He now cautiously reproduced the note Goldsmith was humming and found the the effect pleasing rather than the reverse. ~Pg. 36
There is a certain defeatism, a begrudging acceptance, that life doesn’t always turn out as one planned. And even if it had, it’s not at all what your youth had imagined it.
‘What work do you do?’ Dixon asked flatly.
‘I am a painter. Not, alas, a painter of houses, or I should have been able to make my pile and retire by now. No no; I paint pictures. Not, alas again, pictures of trade unionists or town halls or naked women, or I should now be squatting on an even larger pile. No no; just pictures, mere pictures, pictures tout court, or, as our American cousins would say, pictures period. And what work do you do? always provided, of course, that I have permission to ask.’ ~Pg. 38
Lucky Jim is amusing for those who enjoy dark humor with a healthy dose of absurd realism.
Many thanks to the folks at New York Review of Books for the review copy.
_____________________________
FORMAT: Paperback
PUBLICATION DATE: October 2, 2012
PAGES: 296
ISBN: 9781590175750
SERIES: NYRB Classics
CATEGORIES: Literature in English
I am almost embarrassed to admit that this the first time I have read a graphic novel. Not out of any sense of superiority — quite the opposite. I’d admired them from afar but always thought they were for people much more hip than me. That and there is just so much reading to be done that one has to narrow it down somehow. But when I read a recommendation of this book, I decided to break the cycle.
The narrator and hero is a genuinely eager, if naive, young man whose love of style leads him to a job in upscale retail. He learns the art of convincing customers to buy and of setting displays, and realizes he is good at it. Unfortunately that means other sellers on the floor see him as a threat. Meanwhile, he has put his personal life on hold. He is simply skating by in a comfortable but meaningless relationship, ignoring his talent and suppressing the ghosts of his past. He thinks he can sweep it all away if he can just succeed in the world of garment retail.
Anyone who has ever worked in any sort of corporate setting will recognize the absurdity of it all. The head honchos that seduce with promises of commission, promotions, better floor position. They get you hooked. Sina grace presents all of this with a dry humor. in fact the early pages were reminiscent of David Sedaris’ Santaland Diaries.
In the end, it’s a stark reminder to us all to steer clear of the machine, lest we get caught up in its gears.
Many thank to the folks at Image Comics for the review copy.
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Price: $12.99
Diamond ID: AUG120476
On Sale: October 17, 2012
This book nearly defies description, but here goes.
The novel is a spider web of small tales, each with an allegorical twist. Somewhere vaguely Germanic, or possibly in eastern European, is the small town of Hemmersmoor. These people live a simple, happy life. There are still stores on the main street – bakeries, hardware stores and sundry shops. Time is also a shimmering mist over the town. There are mentions of trucks and a war, but nothing about telephones or television.
“Hemmersmoor” translates as “inhibitor’s moor”, and it’s an atmospheric place.
A few years back, a fire destroyed was left of Otto Nubis’s workshop. What lay beyond the factory, outside our village, we all have dutifully forgotten. The country is trying to open a museum there, but who is going to buy our paintings and clay souvenirs if their plan is successful? The villagers are shaking their heads. Why should we have to suffer against? We had nothing to do with it.
Time is of no importance. I was young and didn’t know a thing about our time. There had never been a different one in Hemmersmoor. In our village time didn’t progress courageously. In our village she limped a bit, got lost more than once, and always ended up at Frick’s bar and in one of Jens Jensen’s tall tales. ~ Pg. 4
The book has been compared to stories by Shirley Jackson, Rod Serling, and Susan Hill. But that somehow doesn’t quite encompass it. Imagine if Garrison Keillor wrote the stories of Lake Woebegon but he was completely creepy. Various town citizens’ stories intertwine and overlap, with the youth pulling all the strings.
These young people represent an angst-ridden, floundering generation, with too much energy and not enough direction. When they are left to their own devices, their bizarre things begin to happen. Nine ghosts haunt a defeated woman, a carnival steals souls, and a bet turns deadly.
The motive rides a fine line between an evil, supernatural force and bizarre happenstance. There is no force, no arch villain — only a unseen, creeping unease.
Kiesbye’s style is refreshing, succinct and terse. Yet without any flowery language, Kiesbye draws an eerie and vivid picture.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book and I was greatly impressed with his storytelling ability.
Many thanks to the folks at Penguin for the review copy.
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ISBN 9780143121466
208 pages
25 Sep 2012
Penguin
8.26 x 5.23in
18 – AND UP
Just in time for Halloween, the kind folks at Penguin have sent me a giveaway copy of the new creepy book by Stefan Kiesbye, author of Next Door Lived A Girl.
Here is what others are saying:
“Creepy in a way that actually made me quite nervous.” —Ben Loory, author of Stories for Nighttime and Some for the Day
“With a chilling twist here and there, a sly, stark wit, and a fascinating cast of lost boys and girls, Your House Is on Fire, Your Children All Gone is part nostalgia trip and part horror show, as honest and heartfelt as The Virgin Suicides in its portrait of adolescent yearning, anxieties, and heartbreak.” —Timothy Schaffert, author of The Coffins of Little Hope
“Full of dark folk magic and frightful, lurid wonder. It casts a spell, winking all the way through every grim detail and shadowy secret.” —Paul Elwork, author of The Girl Who Would Speak for the Dead
So, you want to read it now, right? Well you can win a copy right here. It’s pretty easy.
1. In the comments below, leave your name (just your first is fine), email (name [at] domain [dot] com to prevent spam).
2. In the comments below, tell me your favorite thing about Halloween.
3. Post on Twitter or Facebook about this giveaway.
4. Have a US mailing address.
That’s it! I will select a winner randomly. The contest is open until Thursday, October 18 at 5:00 p.m. EST. Good luck — and Happy Halloween!
Caren Gray has returned to her knotted, complicated roots ont he plantation of Belle Vie. Generations of her family have lived on this land, some under the heavy oppression of slavery. Now Caren is the caretaker and manager of the estate that is no loner inhabited. It is rented for parties and weddings and other events — a ghost of its former self. The neighboring farm still grows and harvests sugarcane, but now migrant labor works the farm. Early one chilly morning Caren finds a female body half-buried along the fence line. Caren begins to conduct her own investigation, alongside the official one, to uncover even more secrets hidden by Belle Vie.
The novel deftly wanders through Caren’s past — her childhood at Belle Vie, her broken heart — present — her precocious daughter, her fierce commitment to the plantation — and future — what will become of the place she has fought to preserve. Embedded into this background is a Southern murder mystery.

Locke lays out a well-paced, complex and layered story without it feeling forced. Racism and slavery are not glossed over but neither do they overwhelm the story. Instead they act as a filter that sometimes blurs the edges of the truth. Locke’s prose is at once accessible and beautiful:
A reminder, really , that Belle Vie, its beauty, was not to be trusted.
That beneath its loamy topsoil, the manicured grounds and gardens, two centuries of breathtaking wealth and spectacle — a stark beauty both irrepressible and utterly incapable of even the smallest nod of contrition — lay a land both black and bitter, soft to the touch, but pressing in its power. She should have known that one day it would spit out what it no longer has use for, the secrets it would no longer keep. ~Pg. 4
She also has an occasional zing of wicked humor.
The guest chairs in his office matched the carpet, which matched the buttered-beige color of the walls. The décor was attractive and strong, but blander than she would have thought his wealth and position afforded him. Caren couldn’t see the point of having that much money if all of it led to beige. ~Pg. 133
I look forward to reading more by Attica Locke. She seems like an author who still has a great deal to say. And she says it well. She has an uncanny ability to point out inequity without pointing fingers. The blame is obvious within the context and her wisdom is enough to make her point clear.
Readers who enjoy modern murder mysteries, with a hint of history, should certainly check out The Cutting Season.
Many thanks to the folks at Harper for the review copy.
__________________________________
ISBN: 9780061802058
ISBN10: 0061802050
Imprint: Harper
On Sale: 9/18/2012
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 6 x 9
Pages: 384
$25.99; Ages: 18 and Up
I have adored Thursday Next ever since she burst onto bookshelves everywhere (and in every dimension). For me, there was finally a heroine for nerdy, literary, smart young women – like me. Or, like I want to be.
Thanks to the generous people at Viking, I am happy to announce I have copy of the latest installment, THE WOMAN WHO DIED A LOT, for you to win!
All you have to do is leave a comment with:
1) Your name (first is fine)
2) Your email address (“name [at] domain dot com” to prevent spam)
3) What book you would want Thursday Next to take you into?
4) Share this giveaway with your friends and followers on FB and/or Twitter. {Tag me @cineastesview}
* US Only, please. Contest open until 10/10/12, 7:00pm EST *

This giveaway is now over. Congratulations to Audra! Thank you for entering.
This service has been brought to you by the Goliath Corporation, reminding you to eat your toast every day.
McOmber’s debut novel explores an unseen fantasy just under the surface of Victorian England. Heroine Jane Silverlake has always been a but different, but she has never quite understood how, or why. In an ever-changing, growing London Jane attempts to find her place. Though she was well-born, her mother died mysteriously when she was very young. Since then Jane hears the sounds, the souls of objects. Her father has been patient but absent. Her only companions are friends Madeleine and Nathan. The three wander Hampstead Heath — one of the few places where the sounds are quiet for Jane. They are an unlikely trio as they grow older though, and jealousies begin to arise.
Nathan, an impetuous young man from an upper class family, is obsessed with Jane’s “ability” and becomes embroiled in a strange cult that meets in Southwark. Jane, it seems, has the ability to enter the Empyrean, a cosmic place before existence. When Nathan disappears, though, the girls know that it is more than just a passing fad for him. In comes the detective Vidocq, a real historical figure, to investigate the kidnapping.

The book begins strongly; it pulls no punches. The novel delves into the metaphysical, psychology, with an edge of steampunk, all in a Victorian Gothic setting. McOmber’s tone is forceful yet flowing.
The story of their friendship and Pascal’s eventual dependence on Maddy for both room and board was straightforward enough. Maddy first made his acquaintance outside a small French-style café near Charing Cross. He’d been using a piece of charcoal to draw a picture of a street in the walled city of Nimes where white chickens wandered on cobblestone and irises made silent observance from tilted window boxes. ~Pg. 18
McOmber’s characterization of London is equally enjoyable:
London seemed a series of tall shuttered house that evening, all crowded along a single narrow street. The air was full of dust and the pungent smell of dense humanity. We came as close to Piccadilly as traffic permitted and then dismounted, using a series of passages to avoid getting mired in the congested streets. These “secret passages” were oddities of London, symptoms of a city that had been built and rebuilt — a city without order or plan. The poor made their home in these passages, and we walked through their makeshift parlors, brushing lightly through the darkness with Nathan as our leader. ~Pg. 109
I am not an expert, or even extremely familiar, with the fantasy genre, especially in its most recent iterations. As Jane’s understanding of her place in the world becomes more clear, the book’s tone changes from a mysterious novel with a bit of the supernatural, to a full-fledged fantasy story. In fact the last two or three chapters almost seem like they were written by someone else. The entire style alters. It was equally well-written, just completely different.
This is a solid debut novel and I would recommend it for fans of fantasy who like books rooted in real places or characters.
Many thanks to the folks at Simon and Schuster for the review copy.
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Touchstone, September 2012
Hardcover, 320 pages
ISBN-10: 1451664257
ISBN-13: 9781451664256

This whodunit revisits Judge Antoine Verlaque and law professor turned amateur sleuth Marine Bonnet, and their lives in Aix-en-Provence. The two were introduced in Death At Chateau Bremont, a mystery about identity and inheritance. This time they join forces to find the murderer of fellow professor Dr Georges Moutte.
Scholarly, perhaps, but hated by most faculty and students, he held a prestigious post and enjoyed tormenting those who hoped to be his predecessor — and those who hoped to be awarded the Dumas fellowship. Two such promising students discover Prof. Moutte’s body on the floor of his office when they break in, looking for clues as to who will win the fellowship. The investigation reveals a coveted apartment, Galle glass, trips to Italy, and faculty jealousy — all wrapped up in the complicated relationship of Verlaque and Bonnet.

I actually liked this book a good deal better than the first. The plot was much more intriguing, without being convoluted. Longworth deftly skips between character narratives and never leaves any trail untouched for too long. The characters were better drawn — gently flawed, fully-rendered and believable. Rather than feeling dragged along, as in some mystery novels, I felt invited to partake, in a way. The reader is expected to make judgments and have favorites.
And, as before, Aix itself is a character:
Marine stopped between the third and fourth floors, as she usually did, to catch her breath. She was thankful that most buildings in old Aix stopped at the fourth floor and not the sixth like Paris. She had picked up a small roast beef at Antoine’s favorite butcher, a place so small that she usually passed it before having to double back down the narrow rue duMaréchal Foch. The butcher did not flirt with her as other commerçants did — he took his job seriously; he was polite, but did not chat or tell jokes. It was obvious that meat came first, and a poster on the wall confirmed that. It depicted a stone barn with a steep slate rood and flower boxes, below that the name of the farmer and his address and phone number in the Salers region of the Auvergne, inviting the patron to visit and see his herd of strong red cows. ~Pg 130.
Though it may seem that such a tangent is unnecessary to the plot, it is actually these details that make the story plausible.
Murder in the Rue Dumas is an enjoyable little cozy. It is recommended for fans of Dorothy Sayers or Miss Marple. Enjoy with a pot of tea — or some French wine and cheese.
Many thanks to the kind folks at Penguin for the review copy.
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ISBN 9780143121541 | 304 pages | 25 Sep 2012 | Penguin | 8.26 x 5.23in | 18 – AND UP
This book is almost like a work of fan fiction. What if this cast of characters were suddenly let loose in an unlikely scenario. Queen Elizabeth II, despondent and full of wanderlust, embarks on an unusual trip. Constantly surrounded by assistants, servants, schedules, and protocol, she is looking to reconnect with simpler days. After her annus horriblus, (the breakup of Fergie and Andrew, Diana and Charles and the fire at Windsor Castle), it seems nothing is the same.
One afternoon, while visiting her beloved horses, she accepts the loan of a hoodie against the sudden rain. Slogging back to the palace, she notices that she isn’t recognized by her own guards. Surprised and amused, she takes advantage of the situation. What begins as a walkabout to the local cheesemonger becomes an escape from England altogether. She jumps aboard a train headed for Waverley Station in Edinburgh. Edinburgh, where her beloved Britannia is now docked, open as a museum.
…Then they could all retire to the Britannia for a few days, having justified the expense of sailing her out by holding some official dinners on board. How lovely she looked, white and buff and blue, rising up out of the haze on a hot afternoon. And when she became too old, to expensive to run, well the Government absolutely refused to build another yacht. It was that word “yacht” wasn’t it? The Queen couldn’t appear to waste public money on personal pleasure. She understood that, but she wondered if the newspapers actually knew how many boring Commonwealth suppers she’d had to sit through. If anybody had earned a bit of a treat, she had, what with the endless small talk she’d engaged in on national business. ~Pg. 127
The book paints a picture of a tired but thankful Queen who could use with a bit of human interaction that isn’t based in ritual. But more than that, it focuses on those who orbit the Queen. Butlers, assistants, ladies-in-waiting, equerries and proud citizens all intertwine to “save” the Queen from her impromptu holiday.

The book is a bit staid; respectable but not anything outstanding. It wanders, too much in fact, away from the tender themes that it does have. The Queen herself is barely in it. Instead Kuhn chooses to explore the backstories of his other characters, what brought them to work in the Household. For fans of narratives that mosey along, with plenty of tangents, perhaps this is the book for you. For Anglophiles or fans of snappy stories, I suggest they look elsewhere.
May thanks to Harper for the advanced review copy.
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ISBN: 9780062208286; ISBN10: 0062208284; Imprint: Harper ; On Sale: 10/16/2012; Format: Hardcover; Trimsize: 5 1/2 x 8 1/4; Pages: 384; $25.99; Ages: 18 and Up
Always good to hear…
More important, a blistering review—if it is written as a candid assertion of your principles—will strengthen existing friendships and earn you new friends whose worth surpasses those who have revealed themselves as your foes. When you are truthful, and especially when the need has arisen for you to be viciously truthful, you will always find yourself in illustrious company.
Letter to a Young Critic: William Giraldi Defends True Criticism – The Daily Beast.
I think the original Frankenstein is a brilliant work of literature. Nearly 200 years later and it still causes nightmares and engenders philosophical discussions, not to mention dozens of films. And it inspires “revisionist” works such as this.
Monster is from the first-person perspective of the “creature”, Dr. Victor Frankstein’s monster. The inner thoughts (the brain) of the creature are from Friedrich Hoffmann, a man who was falsely accused then brutally executed for the murder of his bride-to-be. Friedrich’s memories, and mental anguish, remain. He vows to take vengeance on behalf of himself, his beloved’s, and everyone’s lives that the maniacal Frankenstein has ruined.
The initial idea is interesting, but it loses focus quickly. Rather than following the original story and adding fresh perspective, the creature can speak from the get go and has complex thoughts. He travels the countryside encountering devil worshipers and an accused witch, but no blind man in a cabin. The slight acknowledgement there is (Captain Walton, Elizabeth) seems to be done reluctantly and half-heartedly. While I didn’t expect those scenes to be in there, I thought there would be references — an occasional wink to Shelley’s story.

The writing itself is somewhat simplistic and repetitive. In some cases it seems like he copied and pasted a paragraph from a few pages previous. This does nothing to enhance the storytelling, and only further annoys the reader.
Additionally, the writer seems to rely upon gory details to create horror. He seems to forget that the horror comes from psychological entrapment, not from bloody stumps and descriptions of Satanic rituals. The attempts at expressing Hoffmann’s feelings of being trapped are weak and almost incoherent. Instead, the writer falls back on salacious descriptions of severed heads and deviant parties — which do not lend any credence.

The book falls somewhere in the cracks between modern revisionist and schlock. There are two — count ‘em, two! — Jans-in-a-Pan in this Sodom and Gommorah of Frankenstein’s creation. But for some reason the writer didn’t embrace either campy horror or serious literature.
The result is a bit of a messy experiment, stitched together from random parts that do not quite create a coherent whole.
Many thanks to the folks at Overlook Press for sending me a review copy.
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ISBN 13: 978-1-59020-860-1
Trim Size: 5 3/8 x 8
Hardcover
222 Pages
In the last couple of years I’ve become a fan of Sophie Hannah’s writing. She writes fast-paced, gritty police procedurals with dark psychological undertones. In some ways, she reminds me of a British Kathy Reichs. This installment of Zailer and Waterhouse’s casebook takes them to Cambridge.
The book’s main heroine, Connie, is suffering from a bout of insomnia. She logs onto a real estate website and browses for “dream” homes in nearby Cambridge. While looking at property photos, she sees one with a dead body splayed on the living room floor. Shocked and discombobulated, she reloads the site, but the image is gone. Thus begins a series of confusing events that causes Connie to question her sanity and identity.
Connie attempts to solve the unnerving incident, with help from a honeymooning Zailer and Waterhouse and a stateside officer Sam Kombothekra. But even a close following of the clues does not give away the ultimate suspenseful ending.

Sophie Hannah switches between narrators and tenses. Connie “speaks” in present tense and often goes into stream of consciousness.
While Kit takes him upstairs, I pace up and down, picturing 11 Bentley Grove’s lounge, trying to uncover the missing detail. The woman disappeared. The blood disappeared. And something else…
I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don’t notice Kit had returned, and I jump when he says, ‘I know everyone hates estate agents, but you’ve taken it to a whole new level. What you haven’t done is considered the why. Why would some evil genius estate agent, sitting in his office in Cambridge, want to include an elusive dead woman complete with own pool of blood on the virtual tour of a house he’s trying to sell? Is it, what a daring new marketing technique? maybe you should see which agent the house is on with, ring up and ask them.’ ~Pg. 47
This sort of wandering inner thought that the reader is privy to adds suspense and allows the reader to quickly and strongly sympathize with the characters. It also limits the readers understanding of what’s going on, which allows us to discover it as the characters do. It’s an effective device and one that Hannah uses well. This book in particular harkens back to elements Gaslight, which a film nerd like myself can’t help but giggle at with delight. The plot is full of red herrings and, like much of Hannah’s work, is not a whodunit for the reader to figure out but rather a twisting tale to watch unfold.
Many thank to the folks at Penguin for the review copy.
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ISBN 9780143121510
Paperback
5.31 x 8.03in
464 pages
26 Jun 2012
Penguin | 18 – AND UP

Last summer I went to the Tower of London. There I made a number of unexpected discoveries, although if I had ever stopped to think about it would have seemed rather obvious. For instance, there are several buildings that make up the “tower”, the oldest and most famous being the White Tower. It isn’t really a tower, but a fortress or a castle. Unlike the Buckingham guards, the Yeomen are very much allowed to talk to you and are wonderfully friendly folks. The real Crown Jewels really are kept there – provable by the fact very strict British advertising laws actually prevent any sort of “bait and switch”. If they advertise it, they have to be real.
And as a “fan” of ravens in general I was very excited to see the avian residents at the Tower. They are incredibly curious and obviously intelligent. One of the many things that makes me such an Anglophile is their unwavering adherence to tradition. So having a warder whose sole job is to tend the ravens at the Tower is amazing to me.
And like the thousands upon thousands of visitors to the Tower each year, I believed the general story that they had been part of the Tower for centuries. Apparently the true story is a bit more complicated.
Boria Sax’s book is a neat thesis the explores the history of ravens (Corvus corax) in general, in England and at the Tower. These background chapters were my favorite.
Their [the raven's] complex social structure resembles that of human beings. Ravens live within a nuclear family and raise their young collectively, yet they also assemble in huge gatherings for reasons that are not fully explained. They communicate in part through a large range of vocalisations, and they have long been renowned for their intelligence. Because ravens can seem ‘almost human’, they elicit strong feelings from people, and have been alternately revered and persecuted throughout human history.
Because of their extraordinary cleverness, people can find ravens irascible and, at times, even diabolic. A recent publication of the US National Park Service advises tourists that, “Ravens have learned how to unzip and unsnap packs. Do not allow them access to your food.” But despite their reputation as tricksters, ravens have often been able to thrive in human settlements, and Aristotle considered them birds of the city. Pliny tells of one raven that made its next in the shop of a cobbler in Rome and became so beloved that a man who killed it was punished with death. the raven was given a splendid funeral attended by a large crowd of mourners. ~Pgs. 24-5
Sax then explores how the legend of the Tower ravens was born. The answers are surprising and enlightening (but I will leave it to the reader to discover).
The book lands somewhere between academic and popular history. It is accessible for a casual reader but full of well-researched quotes and references. I recommend it for any history buff or Anglophile’s shelves.
Many thanks to Overlook Press for the review copy.
You can follow the Tower of London’s Ravenmaster on Twitter here.
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ISBN: 978-1-59020-777-2
ISBN 13: 978-1-59020-777-2
Trim Size: 5 x 7
206 pages
Hardcover
Charlotte Markham has been a victim of Fate. She lost her husband to a fire and was forced to take a job as governess in the Darrow house. When Nanny Prum is brutally murdered in the middle of the night, Charlote is required to take on those duties as well.
She shares one thing with her charges — they’ve both lost someone dear all too soon. Their mother died recently and the children, understandably are still not themselves. In an attempt to help them decompress, she invites them to draw something from their dreams. Paul, the elder brother, creates a detailed map of the grounds, with one important difference — a house where his mother waits for them.
The book is somewhat reminiscent of The Turn of the Screw. The narrator is a very conscientious, if sometimes naive, guardian of the children. With her, their health and happiness is paramount. At the same time, she is also precocious and is determined to satisfy her curiosity.
A squat, muted chandelier hung low from the ceiling, casting the room in dim amber light. I sat on the edge of a thick leather armchair, determined not to sink back so far as to be rendered incapacitated should the strange situation spiral any further out of my control, even as I promised myself that it would not. To my bewilderment the cushions expanded as if the chair were fighting against me so that I might be more comfortable. Was it possible for furniture to become offended? I firmly kicked the leg behind my right foot, and the chair regained its former shape. ~ Pg. 62
Despite her in-the-moment mentality, there is much she still has to learn. The “rules” of the House of Darkling are unknown, as are the opponents. Her own memories haunt her just as she tries to relieve the strain on the children. But something she cannot resist lies just beyond the misty orchard.
Charlotte Markham poses philosophical questions about life and death, and how we would the choices given to her. It’s also a dark tale of literary adventure where a spunky young woman tries to outsmart Death. I didn’t find it to be life-altering, but it is a very enjoyable read. It is well-crafted storytelling. The “rules” are a bit convoluted and it feels somewhat rushed near the end, but it hardly matters. The imagery and atmosphere are dark and rich.
Many thanks to the kind folks at William Morrow for the review copy.
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ISBN: 9780062122612
ISBN10: 0062122614
Imprint: William Morrow Paperbacks
On Sale: 7/24/2012
Format: Trade PB
Trimsize: 5 5/16 x 8
Pages: 320; $14.99
Ages: 18 and Up
One of the the wildest stories related to a Yellow Diamond — a famous gem in the native annals of India. … Partly from its peculiar colour, partly from a superstition which represented it as feeling the influence of the deity whom it adored, and growing and lessening in lustre with the waxing and waning of the moon, it first gained the name by which it continuues to be know in India to this day — the name of THE MOONSTONE. …
And the Moonstone was seized by an officer of rank in the army of Aurungzebe.
Zafon experts, please forgive me — this is my first time reading one of his books. After I was nearly finished with it, someone asked me how I liked the first two in the series. Oops. But, I was impressed enough to want to go back and read them. And as far as I am concerned, The Prisoner of Heaven stands on its own.
In 1957 Barcelona, Daniel Sempere lives above the family bookstore with his wife and newborn son. His best friend, Fermin, is about to married. Then a mysterious, cagey stranger appears and threatens to upset their happiness. The crippled man purchases a rare edition of The Count of Monte Cristo and inscribes it to Fermin. Fermin must then confide in his friend if he is to defeat the ghosts of his past.

The book uses frame story structure to give us glimpses into Fermin (and Sempere’s father’s) years during Franco’s reign, as well as using Daniel’s firsthand narrative to put the pieces together. Zafon’s characters have a voice that is bemused, worn down by oppression and hardship. They find a desperate humor in their difficult situation.
A professional bookseller has few opportunities to acquire the fine art of following a suspect in the field without being spotted. Unless a substantial number of his customers are prominent defaulters, such opportunities are only granted to him vicariously by the collection of crime stories and penny dreadfuls on his bookshelves. Clothes maketh not the man, but crime, or its presumption maketh the detective, especially the amateur sleuth. ~Pg. 14
Books and storytelling are a prominent theme here. Aside from Daniel’s job, there is the Cemetery of Forgotten Books.
His tiny figure was engulfed by the great beam of light pouring down from the glass dome in the ceiling. Brightness fell in a vaporous cascade over the sprawling labyrinth of corridors, tunnels, staircases , arches, and vaults that seemed to spring from the floor like the trunk of an endless tree of books and branched heavenwards displaying an impossible geometry. Fermin stepped on to a gangway extending like a bridge into the base of the structure. He gazed at the sight open mouthed. I drew up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.
‘Welcome to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books, Fermin.’
~ Pg. 264
I’d also like to give my complements to Lucia Graves, who translated the novel from Spanish. She conveys the rich, velvetiness of Zafon’s writing. A good translation is so important to gravitas of a book and she does a great job here.
The Prisoner of Heaven is a fairly quick read, full of adventure and thematic intertwining. It is a fresh take yet has an ancient wisdom about it all in a new (to me) setting. Now, I’m off to find the rest of his books.
Many thanks to the folks at Harper for the review copy.
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ISBN: 9780062206282
ISBN10: 0062206281
Imprint: Harper
On Sale: 7/10/2012
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 6 x 9
Pages: 288; $25.99
Ages: 18 and Up
I have ADORED Boris Akunin for years. I mean, at least 10 years; maybe more. I was heart-broken when American publishers stopped “importing” him. Last summer, I went to London and stopped in at Daunt Books in Chelsea. I bought every Akunin / Fandorin book they had. When I explained to the wonderful staff that I couldn’t get them in America they were stunned. i wish 3000 miles did not separate me and that lovely shop.
Hopefully this profile in The New Yorker will help bring Akunin, and Fandorin, back to America.
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July 27, 2012
Boris Akunin: Russia’s Dissident Detective Novelist
Posted by Sally McGrane

Grigory Chkhartishvili has his best ideas in the morning. When he first wakes up, the fifty-six-year-old writer—who, under the pseudonym Boris Akunin, is one of Russia’s most widely read contemporary authors—might think of a new predicament in which to ensnare his popular hero, Erast Fandorin, the dashing nineteenth-century detective who can see into people’s souls and always wins at games of chance. …
The Bellwether Revivals is part Evelyn Waugh, part Patricia Highsmith, and part… something else. Twilight Zone, perhaps. The protagonist, Oscar Lowe, is a townie with few prospects in the storied university town of Cambridge. While wandering past the King’s College chapel, he is entranced by the organ music he hears. He sits in on the service and become enamored by one of the angelic voices in the choir. Oscar waits on the chapel steps, hoping to meet her. She is Iris Bellwether, and her brother Eden, it turns out, is the organist. He falls in with the Bellwether siblings, pulled into their otherworldly existence.
In a kind of Talented Mr. Ripley, in reverse, Oscar begins to fear the unhinged genius of Eden Bellwether. A musical prodigy, he is convinced that certain compositions and ceremonies can heal. Vibrations realign and agitate cells to reconfigure, almost like string theory on a larger scale. But Eden’s hobby begins to take on a life of its own — and threatens to destroy others’.
Wood presents a setting that only Old World, storied intellectuals live in. Here, the minds of Cambridge meet the unfettered wealth and youthful arrogance. Like Nick Carraway in the Great Gatsby, the reader needs the guidance of Oscar in this strange yet simultaneous world. Wood describes an evening with the Bellwether family:
They all retired to the drawing room after dessert. It had the conscious extravagance of a hotel lobby: leather sofas, candleabras, a grand piano, and a marble fireplace. Theo stood behind a rosewood cabinet, stacked with cut-glass decanters, and began removing stoppers and sniffing the contents of each bottle, as if about to commence some explosive chemistry experiment. Eventually, he chose one and lifted it. ’ Alright. Who’ll share some Delamain with me? Oscar, I know your’e game.’ Theo raised one eyebrow.
‘Thanks, Mr. Bellwether,’ he said, ignoring Iris’s suggestive cough.
‘Some of the best cognac you’ll ever drink, this,’ Theo went on. ‘Three grand for seventy piddling centilitres.’ ~Pg. 96.
This is a conversation Oscar could never even begin to have. It’s doubtful someone in his position would ever even have £3000 together. His world consists of 12-hour shifts at an elderly nursing home. Still, he manages to find pleasure in it, befriending an old man who lends him books and life advice. But after meeting the Bellwethers, Oscar finds himself constantly feeling out place no matter where he is of who he is with. As Eden slowly takes over their lives, things become even more surreal.
Wood’s writing is clear and straightforward, which makes the oddity of the story all the more powerful. The characters, particularly Eden Bellwether and Herbert Paulsen, are richly drawn. The story does take a couple of chapters to get going, but once it does, it is highly addictive. It a few flakes become a snowball, then an avalanche. It’s a forceful, unnerving and brilliant book.
Many thanks to the folks at Viking Adult for the review copy. Visit author Benjamin Wood’s official site.
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ISBN 9780670023592 | 432 pages | 14 Jun 2012
Viking Adult | 5.98 x 9.01in | 18 – AND UP
Firstly let me say that the genre of the Victorian novel is safe. As anyone who reads my blog has probably noticed, I have a particular penchant for books about ghosts, Victorian England, a country house and a secret. I can’t get enough, it seems. And this one often reminded me of Gaslight.
It’s told from the point-of-view of 17-year old Phoebe Turner. It is 1881 and her beloved aunt Cissy is an esteemed opera singer. Phoebe’s mother is a Bible-thumping missionary. The two sisters could not be more different. One night, Phoebe is allowed to attend one of her aunt’s performances at Wilton’s Music Hall, and in a moment she is swept up in the footlights and greasepaint. Despite her mother’s warning against “theatre people”, she also sees the camaraderie among the backstage family. That is until a strange man oozes his way into her family’s life — and turns it on its head.

Trapped by a family secret, Phoebe finds herself accepting a position as a companion to a Mrs. Samuels. She leaves all she has known in London for an estate in Herefordshire. Here she finds a graveyard, madness, and answers to questions she didn’t know to ask. She discovers treachery and deception that leads back to her own existence.
The Somnambulist relies on many of the conventions of a Victorian novel. Setting certainly plays a huge role, as do the numerous letters sent between the characters. Family secrets and missing objects are also a common theme. Essie Fox brings the genre into the modern era by including an added layer of salaciousness (For all their popular novelty, Victorian novels maintained a certain level of propriety by being less explicit). Here, certain scenes resemble Joyce Carol Oates more than Wilkie Collins. This novel does not pull any punches, which makes it all the more compelling.

Throughout the book, the idea of sleepwalking is prevalent. The theme varies from the most literal to far more figurative suggestions of consciousness. Who are we when we sleep? What is reality, and what is a dream, and how does one affect the other? How much of our wakeful lives do we spend “sleepwalking”, just to get through the day? Is the line between life and death like the line between wakefulness and sleep? What is real and what is superstition? While the house is in mourning, Phoebe describes the parlor:
Except for the wheezing old organ in church, there was to be no music that day. Cissy’s piano was draped in black velvet, the same with the mirrors that hung over the mantels; the same with the big marble clock. On the day of the death, when she wound that down, it felt like another heart being stopped. But nature abhors a vacuum, and little wonder the ghosts of the past took hold of that silence to creep inside, bringing with them the nets in which we would be trapped. ~Pg. 66
I truly enjoyed reading this book and seeing yet another take on the Victorian novel. It’s great for a long weekend or a couple of afternoons in the backyard hammock. I look forward to reading more by Ms. Fox.
In this case, I had to do a little detective work to get my hands on a copy. It does not yet have a US publisher, but hopefully that will change soon. Until then, you can purchase it from The Book Depository, who offers free shipping worldwide. A great many thanks to the folks at Orion Books UK for sending me a copy.
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384 pages
234mm x 153mm x 32mm
ISBN-13 Number: 9781409123316
Publication Date: May 2011
Kate Summerscale has once again uncovered a fascinating story from the ever contradictory Victorian era. Not so very long ago, divorce was nearly impossible (unless you were King Henry VIII, of course). Until 1858, “marriage could only be dissolved by an individual Act of Parliament, at a cost prohibitive to almost all of the population. The new Court of Divorce and matrimonial Causes was able to sever the marital bond far more cheaply and quickly.” The case brought forth by Mr. Henry Robinson is one of the first the court hears.
Isabella was already a widow (her husband “went mad”), with a significant dowry and inherited property, at age 31 when she wed Henry Robinson. Henry was a civil engineer — respectable, if not overly impressive. They had two children together and Henry built a sizable home, called Balmore House, for the family.

Yet Isabella was not content. Far from it. She was smart, inquisitive and tenacious. She wanted to be surrounded by thinkers and artists. And she wanted to be loved, not tolerated or used. What sounds perfectly reasonable today was radical 150 years ago. Intelligent women were tolerated, within certain limits, and only when it didn’t interfere with duty.
Like many 19th century people, Isabella Robinson kept a diary. Summerscale writes:
By 1850 the Letts company was selling several thousand diaries a year, in dozens of different formats. These were the books in which Isabella wrote; they came bound in cloth or in red Russian calf hide, which gave off a faint scent of birch bark, and couple be fitted with protective covers and spring locks. ’Use you diary with the utmost familiarity and confidence,’ Letts counselled the novice diarist, ‘conceal nothing from its pages nor suffer any other eye than your own to scan them.’ …
Women, in particular, took to diarising with a passion. … The act of diary-keeping honoured many of the values of Victorian society — self-reliance, autonomy, the capacity to keep secrets. But if taken too far, these same virtues could turn to vices. Self-reliance could become radical disconnection from society, its codes and rules and restraints; secrecy could curdle into deceit; self-monitoring into solipsism; and introspection into monomania. Pages 152-4
In this case, her diary did more damage than she could have imagined. As her marriage became increasing unhappy, Isabella wrote of secret and exciting interactions with other male figures in her life. She admitted to being miserable, to wishing she could leave her despicable husband. While in the throes of a life-threatening fever, Henry finds her diary, reads it and decides to use it against her in court.
Not only was Isabella Robinson subjected to the humiliation of begin taken to divorce court, her innermost thoughts were read in court, transcribed by the newspapers. In her letters during the time she seems to be almost in denial that anyone could use private thoughts and ideas as evidence. She sounds frustrated but confident that common sense will win out. Yet a conundrum seems to be all that Isabella faces. She is encouraged by friends to claim madness, that he writings were nothing but hallucinatory. No answer is satisfactory. If she claims they are imaginings, then she is mad. If she claims the entries to be true, then she must be mad to have written them down.
Even while Isabella Robinson had involved conversations with Charles Darwin, was good friends with phrenologist George Combe, and was related by marriage to William Wordsworth. Yet she was also considered a poor example of womanhood. Despite her efforts to find some sort of peace within her unhappy life, she was left to be embarrassed by a society that would rather not accept her.
Summerscale’s research is impeccable. Several pages are devoted to notes with extra tidbits of information. She completely encapsulates the strange grey area that was the Victorian era. She has combed through thousands of letters, newspaper articles, and yes, diaries, to paint as complete a picture as possible. And despite the title of the book, does not use Isabella’s diary as a source for salacious tidbits, like tabloids would have. It is just one reference point for a greater portrait.
Many thanks to Bloomsbury for the review copy.
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June 2012
$26.00
384 pp
5.5 x 8.25 in
Hardcover
ISBN-13: 9781608199136
ISBN-10: 1608199134
I have always loved this story – a story within a story, really. It speaks so much of the times and the psychology of an era. I was a teenager, though, before I learned about the Cottingley Fairies. I do wish I’d had a book like this to read when I was young.
The book gives an overview of how Elsie and Frances managed to find themselves involved in a national obsession. Losure sketches their individual personalities, setting the stage for an incredible story. Two young girls, restless and creative — and tired of being ignored — snapped photographs of themselves with dainty creatures of the woods near their home. The girls insisted they communicated with these fairies. And in a time when photography was a new technology, it was assumed that a photo equaled reality. When the pictures made it to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the Strand Magazine, their quiet country existence became chaotic. And, as is human nature, numerous people found in it precisely what they were looking for.
Sir Arthur wrote a book about Elsie and Frances’s pictures. He called it “The Coming of the Fairies.”
Science, Sir Arthur now believed, was like a harsh light that left the world hard and bare, ‘like a landscape in the moon’. And surely, there was more to life than that! Just knowing fairies were out there, even if you never got to see one, added charm and romance to the world.
Sir Arthur didn’t say this in his book, but a part of him had longed for fairies ever since he was a boy. … In the asylum, Sir Arthur’s father drew pictures of tiny people holding leaves as big as umbrellas or lurking in flowerpots or riding on the back of birds.
Sir Arthur didn’t mention any of that in “The Coming of the Fairies.” But if fairies were REAL, Sir Arthur’s father wasn’t crazy after all. ~ Pages 141-3

Losure tells the tale in a plain way, but it is not condescending. She notes that the girls behaved badly for not being honest, but they are not vilified. She highlights the narrow window between innocence and experience, between belief and reality. Perhaps most importantly, she notes the importance of being true to yourself, and not needed validation from anyone else.
Thank you to Candlewick Press for the review copy.
suggested retail price (U.S./CAN): $16.99 / $19.00
isbn-10/isbn-13: 0763656704 / 9780763656706
on sale date: 03/2012
type/format: Nonfiction / Hard Cover
age range: 10 yrs and up
# of pages/size: 192 / 5 1/2 x 7 1/4″
grade range: Grade 5 and up
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I invited a young lady, by the name of Sage, to also read and review this book. She is 14 and I welcomed her views on The Fairy Ring. Here are her thoughts.
The Fairy Ring or Elsie and Frances Fool the World is written by Mary Losure. It was published March 27, 2012 by Candlewick Press. The age level for this book is 10 year old and up, so says the book. I think that the book publishing company is wrong in this aspect. A 10 year old living in today’s world would have trouble reading this book because of the use of outdated words and the older camera used in the turn of the century is so different than the camera than we know today that some children might not grasp the concept. Instead I think that this is a wonderful read-aloud book for a child of any age or an independent book for anyone over the age of 13. In either case, it is probably a good idea to keep a dictionary near by. All in all, this book is a very quick read and quite lovely at that.
The Fairy Ring or Elsie and Frances Fool the Worldis a true story about a 9 year-old girl named Frances who sees little fairies near the small brook in her aunt and uncle’s backyard. After the start of World War I, Frances and her mother move in with her Aunt Polly, Uncle Arthur and her cousin, Elise in a little town by the name of Cottingley in Yorkshire, England while her father is fighting in France. When Frances is made fun of for believing in fairies, Elsie says she saw the fairies too. To prove that fairies exist, Elsie makes paper pixies and borrows her father’s camera to take pictures of the fairies with her and with Frances. These pictures are soon forgotten and stashed in a drawer, until Polly visits a lecture about nature spirits presented by an organization of people by the name of Theosophists. Elsie’s mother tells the lecturer about the photographs her daughter and her niece had taken of fairies. Mr. Gardener soon writes a letter to Mrs. Wright telling her how astounding the pictures were and if Elsie would take some more. He sends Elsie six-dozen plates to take pictures with. (At this time, cameras were very different than cameras today. Instead of film, glass plates were used. Each glass plate had to be inserted in a dark room. ) The fairy pictures were shown in lectures given by the Theosophical Society in London. A writer for the Strand was doing research for an article about first-hand accounts of fairy sightings. This writer was none another than Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the author of Sherlock Holmes. Soon, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Mr. Gardener team up to uncover the truth on the fairy pictures; to find a scam. This leads to the harassment of both girls to take more pictures. One day, they take three more. Time passes, and Elsie and Frances are no longer able to see the fairies. Neither of them took another fairy picture.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book. Losure uses wondrous imagery to describe the beck in Elsie’s backyard. The description of the ‘little men’ that Frances sees is just wonderful. It makes me want to visit a little waterfall or a glen.
You can buy this book on Amazon for as low as $6.97 (That price includes shipping. Regular price: $16.99.)
Those who are suffering from a bit of Downton Abbey withdrawal and enjoy a cozy mystery should read this book. Battlefield nurse Bess Crawford is alerted to an unaccounted for corpse in the shed turned makeshift morgue. Interest piqued and always dutiful, she intends to report the findings to the Matron. Before she can, she is struck with the rampant Spanish Influenza that took down so many in the waning days of WWI. Despite her delirium, and a close call with the illness, she remembers what happened the night she fell ill and sets out to solve the mystery. But when her compatriots begin dying under strange circumstances, she knows that she will be next.

Bess is the head-strong daughter of a retired colonel, who now has a high-level job in his Majesty’s government. She grew up on post in India, though now her parents have a place in Somerset. When war broke out she insisted on being useful (much like Lady Sybil Crawley) and volunteered to be a battle field nurse. Her parents, certainly respectful of the idea of duty to King and Country, supported her efforts, while keeping a watchful eye on her as best as possible.
Charles Todd (actually a mother and son team of authors) is very well versed in the details of the times. The novel follows Bess as she travels back and forth between England and France, from rehab facilities to field hospitals, from ambulance tracks to channel steamers.
And so I waited. Last night the sun had set in a blaze of gold and red, sliding behind a bank of deep purple clouds. Now it was pitch dark without the flickering light of the shelling, and the only way we could be certain we were on what passed as a road were the wide swaths of deep ruts left behind by the lorries. Our blacked-out headlamps were woefully inadequate, casting shadows that only made it harder to judge anything in time to avoid another bone-wrenching jolt. About two miles out we spotted the single chimney and broken wall of a farmhouse. It had become a marker of sorts, and we all knew to watch for it. The rest of the village was little more than rubble, with no way of judging where the streets had been, much less the houses or shops that once had lined them. How this single chimney and wall had survived God knew alone. ~ Pg. 105

There is almost constant travel, traversing borders in an attempt to both serve as a nurse and discover all of the threads in the web of the man in the shed. And though she is anything but nonchalant, she is almost unflappable.
The novel moves very quickly and is full of action. It is suspenseful and another great summer read.
Thanks to the folks of William Morrow for the review copy.
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ISBN: 9780062015723
ISBN10: 0062015729
Imprint: William Morrow
On Sale: 6/5/2012
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 6 x 9
Pages: 272; $24.99; Ages: 18 and Up
This is the first novel I have read by Ms. Webb but when she started with an epigraph page with quotes from William Wordsworth, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Rudolph Steiner, I knew I was in for a well-wrought story. She certainly knows her literary stuff.
The novel straddles the span of a century — 1911 & 2011. A young journalist is asked to find information about a WWI soldier whose body has just been found. With just a couple of letters found with the soldier, she begins her search. In the alternate world, Cat Morley is just starting her new job as a maid at Cold Ash Rectory. The Reverend Albert Canning and his wife Hester hire the unfortunate girl as a sort of mission or kindness. Their relationship is awkward, at best, and made even more strained when a Mr. Robin Durrant enters the picture. A theosophist of great repute, the Reverend seeks to impress him with his own stories of fairies and elementals. The two feed off one another’s arrogance and delusion.

The book is written in present tense, a style I usually don’t find readable. However, Webb manages it well. Descriptions are still rich and not the usual clipped, terse style of present tense writing. Additionally, because it is contemporaneous, we the reader do not know that the narrator will “be alright”. It adds dramatic tension and brings the reader closer to the action.
It is nowhere near lunch time when a smart knock at the door jolts Cat from her reverie. She has been distracted all morning, her gaze wandering far and away through the hall window that she’s supposed to be polishing with ball of old newspaper. Thoughts of George Hobson tease her mind away from work. She saw him again last night, drank enough beer with him to make her head spin and her insides glow. Now her head is spinning still, and her stomach feels weak, and a slow throb of pain has taken to beating behind her eyes. Fatigue makes hr limbs heavy and her thoughts slow. Even this early in the day the air is warm, and a mist of sweat salts her top lip. When the door knocker forces her to move she turns, catching sight of herself in a heavy-framed mirror on the wall. ~Pg. 113
Cat is a complicated heroine. She is both mature for her age and forced to deal with things far too young. She is a free spirit trapped in a less than forgiving world. She is likable but far from perfect. Still, the reader is happy to root for her as she attempts to navigate the complicated household.
Webb also gives due to Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre and her madwoman in the attic. Jane’s terror when she is locked in the Red Room at Mrs Reed’s is as palpable. One of Cat’s worst fears is realized when she is locked in her room.
She hurls herself at the door, scrabbling at the wood, heedless of the splinters that drive themselves beneath her fingernails. She points her fists against it, feels the shock of each blow rattle her bones. But the door does not yield.
Hester, on the floor below, lies sleepless and alone in her bed. … Hester shuts her eyes and puts the pillow over her head, but she can’t block out the girl’s distress completely. She has no choice but to hear it, and finds in it, as the night progresses, an echo of feelings deep inside her own heart. ~ Pg. 326
The reader can’t help but recall Jane’s own sleepless nights as Bertha Rochester haunted Thornfield.
One final, though rather picky, note. The cover of this book does not match the book itself. I know we’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but one does. This cover looks like a YA romance, rather than an Edwardian-set mystery. I just found it confusing.
All in all, The Unseen is a well-written, enjoyable book. It would be a perfect summer read, especially on a thunderstorming afternoon.
Many thanks to William Morrow for the review copy.
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ISBN: 9780062077882
ISBN10: 0062077880
Imprint: William Morrow Paperbacks
On Sale: 5/22/2012
Format: Trade PB
Trimsize: 5 5/16 x 8
Pages: 464; $14.99; Ages: 18 and Up
Part memoir, part essay, part history, Fooling Houdini is an incredibly readable book. We’re brought along as Stone remakes himself from a haughty know-it-all who is publicly disgraced to humble student who finds his master.
The author had always dabbled in magic tricks and illusions. He writes:
Eventually my fascination with the mysteries of magic, and my quest for new material, led me to immerse myself in a world of meetings, lectures, and workshops — an underground community of like-minded obsessives for whom magic is more than just a hobby: it’s a way of life. In any given week in New York City, where I now lived, there were a dozen private gatherings: in the backs of diners, a split-level veterans’ lodges, in spare rooms at medical centers and universities, and in various other undisclosed locations. I quickly learned that the juiciest secrets were seldom printed in books or packaged in magic kits. The most valuable knowledge — the real work — was passed along in secret session and backroom conclaves. Deception, I cam to realize, was one of the few remaining oral traditions. ~ Pg. 7
But after an embarrassing outing at the Magic Olympics (yes, they exist), Stone gives up his rabbit and top hat for a time. When he finally decides to revisit his passion, he approaches it not only with new found respect, but also a great deal more circumspect.
He researches and studies psychological experiments, goes undercover into a three-card monte scheme and muses on the ethics of deception. All the while, earning a Masters in Physics from Columbia University. In fact, he becomes obsessed with what science and magic have in common, rather than viewing them as mortal enemies.
Stone’s writing style is jaunty and one imagines him to be likewise. Though clearly nerdy, he seems to have truly found his calling and is unabashed about it.
Stone posits:
Magic is a science as well as an art, and in science, knowledge serves only to deepen the mystery. Each new find opens vistas on an uncharted territory at the edge of human understanding. Nestled within each answer lies another riddle in an endless web of unknowns.
‘The vastness of the heavens stretches my imagination — stuck on this carousel my little eye can catch one-million-year-old light. A vast pattern — of which I am part … what is the pattern of the meaning or the why? It does not harm the mystery to know a little more about it.’ This from physicist Richard Feynman, and it seems to me that it applies as much to magic as it does to physics. ~ Pg. 152
This is not a manual for magic, though he does explain the principles behind a few tricks. He mentions his various run-ins with “breaking the magician’s code”, but these are hardly giving away anything. As Stone points out, no one believes three-card monte is magic; it’s the psychology and the physics behind it that make it appear so. This is a long essay on the fundamental ideas behind magic — both for audience and magician — as well as an exploration of what modern science can tell us about how perception and deception work in our minds.
Many thanks to Danielle at Harper for the ARC.
Hear more from Alex Stone at foolinghoudini.com
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ISBN: 9780061766213
ISBN10: 0061766216
Imprint: Harper
On Sale: 6/19/2012
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 6 x 9
Pages: 320
$26.99
Ages: 18 and Up
Not as such…
I generally pick such a disparate books that its rare that they (or I) want to read the same things. I have yet to find a group of people to match my bizarre tastes. I love 19th century classics (Wilkie Collins, Charlotte Bronte, Poe) and Victorian mysteries (and books written like them, i.e. Michael Cox, Susan Hill).
My neighborhood is really cool and there is a book club. I suppose I’m an unofficial member. I’ve only been to one meeting, which was really a big dinner with lots of wine and chatting. They’ve just announced their list for the next 6 months and I may join them a couple of times. They really are a fun group!
For this one, you have to think back, imagine a time when Victorian mores hadn’t yet lost their grip. For women, hair was still worn long (as were skirts – no pants), yet they were about to win the right to vote. There was a constant tug between the past and the future. It must have been very exciting, and terribly frustrating.
It was also when films were now ensconced as a form of popular entertainment. Still in the silent era, millions of people would flock every week to see their favorite star shimmering on the screen, their overwrought expressions accompanied by live music.
This is the setting for The Chaperone. New York City is still the hub of everything, and anything west of Chicago is still untamed. And from Kansas a bewitching girl takes the country, and the world, by storm.
The novel is based on true events and is written from the point of view of Cora, the chaperone (though not in first person). Cora is hired to accompany a young Louise Brooks to New York to continue her dance studies. And while Louise is attending her intense training, Cora investigates her own past, her own origins.
As the two attend numerous shows and functions, Cora attempts to solve the mystery of Louise. She seems to be able to control people with her mind. She is at once youthfully innocent and frighteningly seductive — a quality that would be captured on film. Cora struggles with her duty as a chaperone and the world where things are clearly changing quickly.
Louise, always manipulative, manages to get them to attend a show called Shuffle Along, at the 63rd Street Music Hall.
Cora’s gaze moved over the seats, then back down to her program. The fact that there was a character named “Jazz” seemed especially worrisome. Was it a jazz show? A radical one with mixed seating? She wasn’t much of a chaperone, sitting there passively with Louise, waiting for the music to start. Just there year before, there’d been an article in “Ladies Home Journal” that warned that the new jazz craze was a real threat to young people, as it regularly led to a base form of dancing that stirred up the lower nature. Even just hearing jazz was bad, the article said: its primitive rhythms and moaning saxophones were purposefully sensuous, and capable of hypnotizing young people. ~ Pg. 153
Cora, though uncomfortable at first, enjoys the show. It is a turning point for her character as well.
Most of book follows the two women during their time in NYC. Louise is “discovered” and Cora returns, although nothing is ever simple for either of them again. The latter quarter of the book skims both women’s lives – marriages, successes, downfalls, and falling outs. It is also the weakest part of the book. It becomes more of an overview of women’s rights in American history in social studies class and feels tacked on. Only occasionally is their story brought into the content.

While The Chaperone isn’t mind-blowing, it is perfectly enjoyable. Glimpses into Louise’s personality are particularly fun to read, as are the Prohibition-era snapshots of NYC. Classic Hollywood buffs will enjoy reading about one of films brightest — and short-lived — stars of the 1920s.
Many thanks to Penguin and Riverhead Books for the review copy.
__________________________
Book: Hardcover
9.25 x 6.25in
384 pages
ISBN 9781594487019
05 Jun 2012
Riverhead
18 – AND UP
This is the first of Nemirovsky’s novels I have read. I’d heard her story and was intrigued. She was born in 1903 in Kiev to wealthy family, who immigrated to France. Well-educated, she became a prolific and respected writer in Paris. However, her life and talent were cut short when she died in 1942 in Auschwitz. Her posthumous career has taken on a life of its own. This book in particular was kept locked in a safe for decades and only released in 2006.
It opens on the trial of Gladys Eysenach, the main character. She is accused of murdering a young man named Bernard. As the trial proceeds, she does little to defend herself. Rather she allows others to come to their own conclusions. She would rather be found guilty than admit to the terrible truth she is trying to hide.
Gladys is obsessed with youth. Her beauty is her only concern. As the novel progresses (through flashbacks) it becomes clear that she will never be content and only serves to act as her own downfall. Gladys’ selfishness is stunning.
In 1914 Gladys lived near Antibes in a beautiful but uncomfortable house, built in the Italian style; it had belonged to the Counts Dolcebuone and was named ‘Sans-Souci’.
‘I only rented it because of its name, ‘Care-free’, for it encapsulates all of life’s wisdom,’ she would say.
The rooms were vast and cold, the furniture covered in threadbare red damask. But the dark walls softened the glaring light of the Midi and Gladys likes that. Every day, just after she woke up, she would pick up her mirror and study her features, and she would find pleasure in the glowing shadow that softly lit up her face. ~Pg 59.
Although it is written in the third person, it is from Gladys’ point-of-view. The reader sees her disintegrate, slowly unravelling.
The main weakness in the novel is the repetitive nature after the halfway point. The plot is left in the background — until the last few pages. However the repeating thoughts do note Gladys’ static nature. She is unchanging, ungrowing, even in the face of losing her freedom. Her obsession has in turn consumed her and she is now unable to change.
The book reads more like a novella. It’s easily read in a day. I found it very reminiscent of George Sand and her Leone Leoni, and of James M Cain’s Mildred Pierce. I’m very glad her work has been “rediscovered” and look forward to reading more of it.
A great many thanks to Audrey and Courtney at Vintage Anchor Books for the review copy.
________________________________
Paperback: 208 pages
Publisher: Vintage; Reprint edition (May 1, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0307745465
ISBN-13: 978-0307745460
Product Dimensions: 5.2 x 0.6 x 8 inches
Although I certainly haven’t reached my writing goals, by any means, I have done some freelance writing. For a time, I was actually making a good bit of money doing it too. There were even a few months that it covered the rent, free and clear. But as the economy tanked, local outlets (the ones I wrote for) either went away or closed ranks. Editors and staff began to do more of their own writing. Magazines got thinner. ”Advertorials” made up the bulk of the content. It still hasn’t really turned around, at least here. So I threw myself into finishing my Masters thesis. But you can read some of my freelance work here. I’m particularly proud of the piece on the libraries, and the one on Poe, of course.
And in answer to the other question posted, no, I don’t monetize my blog.
My writing goals include: having my reviews picked up by a national outlet and finish writing a novel.
I can do that…
Today’s topic is about networking “in the real world”, bringing those online relationships to another level.
I admit, this is something I’ve been working on, but I’m no expert. Still, I will share an examples of how books and book reviewing are a part of my “real” life.
Living in Savannah, we are lucky enough to have a fantastic library system.
Live Oak Public Libraries does wonderful things for the area and I support them as much as I can. When I got married, I asked guests to bring gently used books that I later donated to the library.
I don’t have lots of money to donate but I help in other ways. Every couple of months I donate books that I have read for review to them. They often add them to their catalog; and the ones that don’t make it into their Book Sale, which supports their costs as well. I also wrote an article for Connect Savannah about their annual gala. I donated the article to the paper and asked the paper to in turn donate my writer’s fee to the library. The story was picked up by Geek the Library campaign!
That was one of my favorite “networking”moments!
I’ve got two books for giveaway for this year’s Armchair BEA. I should mention I have not read either; I’m merely hosting a giveaway.
The description from the publicist:
In Such a Pretty Fat, Jen Lancaster learned how to come to terms with her body. In My Fair Lazy, she expanded her mind. Now the New York Timesbestselling author gives herself—and her generation—a kick in the X, by facing her greatest challenge to date: acting her age.
Jen is finally ready to put away childish things (except her Barbie Styling Head, of course) and embrace the investment-making, mortgage-carrying, life-insurance-having adult she’s become. From getting a mammogram to volunteering at a halfway house, she tackles the grown-up activities she’s resisted for years, and with each rite of passage she completes, she’ll uncover a valuable—and probably humiliating—life lesson that will ease her path to full-fledged, if reluctant, adulthood.
ISBN 9780451233172 | 368 pages | 01 May 2012 | NAL | 9.25 x 6.25in | 18 – AND UP
Many thanks to Melissa at Penguin for this title.
Also up for grabs is a new book, due out TODAY, called Little Night by Luanne Rice.
The description from the publisher:
LITTLE NIGHT has elements of classic Luanne Rice—the complex family dynamics, the atmospheric sense of place (specifically, her incredible descriptions of New York’s wildlife and natural areas). But it is also extremely suspenseful as we learn the truth of what Grit has endured the past twenty years. Because Grit’s mother Anne is absent for most of the book, she has a ghostlike, haunting presence, affecting Grit and Clare as deeply as if she were present. Above all, LITTLE NIGHT is a riveting story about women and the primal, tangled family ties that bind them together.
ISBN 9780670023561 | 336 pages | 05 Jun 2012 | Pamela Dorman Books | 5.98 x 9.01in | 18 – AND UP
Many thanks to Lindsay for the giveaway copy!
So… here’s how it works! There will be two winners, one for each book. Winning is really easy.
- In the comments section below, leave your first name and your email in the following format email (at) domain (dot) com.
- You can earn extra entries (one for each) by:
1) posting a link to this giveaway on your blog/site (post the link below so I can find it)
2) linking to it on Twitter (please include my handle @cineastesview and #armchairbea)
- Contest closes at 11:59pm EST June 7 (Thursday!) so get those entries in. Winners will be notified by email. Books will be sent directly from the publisher to a US mailing address only. THIS GIVEAWAY IS NOW OVER!
GOOD LUCK!
Bonnie Regan, you’ve won JENERATION X.
Mary Ward, you’ve won LITTLE NIGHT.
LADIES, I will be in touch soon.
Thank you to everyone who entered. Happy Armchair BEA!
Writing once again from Virtual Booth #221b… This will be my second Armchair BEA.
◊ Please tell us a little bit about yourself: Who are you? How long have you been blogging? Why did you get into blogging?
I am a director of a nonprofit performing arts venue in the South. I hold a Bachelor’s in English from St. Anselm College and I just earned my Masters of Arts in Cinema Studies from Savannah College of Art and Design.
I began writing book reviews about two and a half years ago, but I’d been writing film reviews ever since I can remember. I was always excited by films and the way they tell stories.
◊ Tell us one non-book-related thing that everyone reading your blog may not know about you.
Well, here’s a couple of things anyway… I’m also a photographer and have been since I was a child. I’m obsessed with showing other people what it is I see.
I’m fairly certain I was born in the wrong decade. I should have been a flapper and I love to wear cloche hats. I’m also a jazz fiend.
I like to post found photos.
I love to garden and wish I lived in a field stone house in the English countryside so I could have a proper garden and write a novel using an antique typewriter.
◊ Which is your favorite post that you have written that you want everyone to read?
I have a couple that I am particularly proud of.
◊ If you could eat dinner with any author or character, who would it be and why?
Well, let me say that no, it would not be Hannibal Lecter.
There are a few but I can say at the top of my list would be Agatha Christie. Her life was so fascinating and full of adventure. I read her autobiography and it was like listening to your completely awesome grandmother tell wonderful stories about growing up. I know we’d still be sitting at the table long after dessert.
◊ What literary location would you most like to visit? Why?
I’ve finally been to England and I loved it as much as I’d hoped I would. There are still so many places there that I need to visit (made it to Sherlock’s house though!).
Given the chance, I’d like to go to the Lakes District where Wordsworth wrote Tintern Abbey and see the peaks in Dartmoor.
I hope you will enjoy my site. You can also follow me on Twitter and Pinterest.
The home which Conan Doyle built in Surrey has been saved from development! Thanks to the banding together of fans and preservationists around the world.
But there is still plenty to do. Please visit the Undershaw Preservation Trust’s site to find out how you can help – from the UK or abroad.
These are the reviews that I dread. I try to find something positive about each book I read, but sometimes a book just doesn’t fly for me. Still, my plan is to give a fair description here so you, the reader, can decide. Perhaps you will find a book here that becomes one of your favorites.
I, IAGO
Iago has always been one of my favorite Shakespeare characters. Truly. He fascinates me. So I was excited to hear someone had tackled the idea of telling the story of Othello from Iago’s point of view. The strength of this book is Galland’s ability to turn a sentence. Her descriptions are full and deep.
Venice is a place of pomp and circumstances, where every possible opportunity for ceremony is studiously observed and acted on, but there was little fanfare when we graduated from our training. Soaked by sheets of cooling rain, skirting the flooded Piazza of San marco, I returned home, lugging my leather satchel — the weight of which was much less burdensome to me than it had been three months earlier. ~Pg 45.
But while her writing is enjoyable on the small scale, I found it difficult to become invested in the plot. I quickly lost interest in the overall story. It just fell flat for me.
WHAT YOU SEE IN THE DARK
This novel uses the filming of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho as a backdrop for the intertwining tales of the citizens of Bakersfield, California. A diner waitress, an actress’s cab ride, a truck and a shower become rich settings for disparate characters. The book unfolds as more of a psychological study than a novel. And unfortunately (to me, anyway), it stays that way. Not much ever happens, and no character is fascinating enough to sustain it on interior dialogue alone. If you’re a fan of modern-style novels such as this, perhaps you will enjoy it more than I did.
My thanks to William Morrow and Algonquin Books for the review copies.
By Robert Lacey
This is certainly London’s time to shine. A fabulous royal wedding last year, a Summer Olympics in just a few weeks plus Queen Elizabeth II’s Diamond Jubilee! She is only the second monarch to have reigned over Britain and its commonwealths for 60 years (Queen Victoria being the first).
This small book is but an overview of Queen Elizabeth’s extraordinary life up to now. Its short length makes it incredibly accessible and allows a reader to find aspects they’d like to read more on. It’s also full of funny anecdotes and surprising moments.
Some of my favorite stories are from her youth. In childhood, there was no indication that she would eventually take the Crown, as she was the niece of the sitting monarch. Her parents attempted to give her a childhood filled with as much play as school, as much comfort as duty.
Her educational priorities, according to her official biographer, were ‘plenty of fresh air, exercise, fun — and light reading.’ So the Royal LIbrarian, Owen Morshead, was appalled to discover one July that the eighteen books that the Queen had ordered for her elder daughter’s summer reading list were all novels — and every one of them by PG Wodehouse. ~Pg 13.

Elizabeth and Margaret became important figures during the Depression and the War.
…With her nineteenth birthday approaching, she finally escaped to join the Auxiliary Territorial Service, or the ‘Women’s Army’ as the ATS was generally known — ‘No. 230873, Second Subaltern Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor. Age: 18. Eyes: blue. Hair: brown. Height: 5 ft. 3 ins.’ For a month she travelled to Aldershot every morning for a vehicle cylinder heads, then returned to Windsor for dinner every evening to lecture her sister and parents on the joys of the internal combustion engine. ~ Pg 22.
For me, the weaker portion of the book is during the later years. The focus is less on Elizabeth and more on Charles and Diana. True, much of the world’s attention was similarly distracted at the time but I would have preferred to read more of the Queen’s thoughts and actions in the 1980s and 90s.
More importantly, I learned tidbits I didn’t know and it piqued my interest to find out more about this impressive Queen.
___________________________________
Many thanks to HarperPerennial for the review copy.
ISBN: 9780062124463
ISBN10: 0062124463
Imprint: Harper Perennial
On Sale: 5/15/2012
Format: Trade PB
Trimsize: 5 5/16 x 8
Pages: 176;
$15.99
Ages: 18 and Up
In anticipation of the release of the latest edition of the Penguin English Library, the folks on twitter asked us readers what we’d like to ask the editor of the series. I sent in a number of queries, some of which he answered! You can watch the video here:
Penguin English Library – Simon Winder
Thats me!

It is an unusual book to be sure. I can’t think of when I’ve read something that reminds me of numerous other books or stories and at the same time is entirely unlike anything else. It’s a slippery eel of a novel.
My attempt at a summary will be inept at best and confusing at worst, but I’ll try to sketch it out a bit. The Torrington-Swift family consists of Mother (Charlotte), second husband and step-father (Edward), and children (Emerald, Clovis and Smudge). The book opens as Edward is leaving for Manchester in attempt to secure a loan that will allow the family to remain on their beloved (though not inherited or entailed) estate, Sterne. It seems the family fortunes, like many of the upper-middle class and landed gentry’s during the interwar years, are fading if not crashing. Shortly after Edward’s departure cousins arrive for Emerald’s birthday (though not in the combination she had hoped for). Then they receive word that a train has derailed near them and would they be so kind as to house the poor souls until the Railway can send for them? Thus begins a strange and unpredictable night at Sterne.

Emerald’s birthday party plans quickly unravel as the house becomes overrun with bedraggled, hungry travelers. But much like the English society of the time, a somewhat absurd attempt is made to maintain protocol — no doubt part of Jones’ complicated allegory. Indeed the “old” is often at odds with the “new”, or at the very least continually juxtaposed.
The yews had been meant for a hedge and cultivated as one for perhaps two hundred years but had run sluggishly away with themselves and, neglected, they formed a misshapen lumbering procession. They were wrinkles of dense growth. They were resinous twisted towers with pockets like witches’ huts hidden within their vastness for playing or hiding. Pg. 6.
Yet inside the house, a much more modern scene is unfolding…
Emerald, passing the morning room on her way to Mrs. Trieves, came upon Clovis, lying crumpled before the fire and listlessly plucking at the edges of a newspaper. The spaniels Nell and Lucy reclined on the battered velvet chaise near to him, lifting snuffy noses in her direction as she stopped in the door. Pg. 14

Generational gaps, class differences and the sacrifices one makes to bridge them are continually touched upon. In this way, I was at turns reminded of Downton Abbey, PG Wodehouse, and I Capture the Castle. It can be wickedly funny and distinctly sharp at the same time. There is also an undertone (and sometimes overlay) of the supernatural. It is reflective of The Twilight Zone, Shirley Jackson and Emlyn Williams. The guests vacillate between wandering zombie-like and acting as subtle oracles.
And when the slick Mr. Traversham-Beechers emerges from the pack things really get unsettling. He is like Mephistopheles or Old Scratch, come to suggest and infiltrate.
He darted to the sideboard, took a clean glass. Then, choosing with care, he opened a new decanter, one of port and poured the dark liquid until it quivered, swollen, at the top of the glass. The party were mesmerized. The sounds of singing seeped under the door, curling like smoke about them as they watched. Pg. 163
The book’s uncanniness is quickly addictive. Just when it seems to find a tack, it changes direction again. Various scenes come in and out of focus and the author manages to demonstrate contemporaneous events very well. A very enjoyably out-of-body experience.
_____________________________
Many thanks to the folks at HarperCollins for the review copy.
ISBN: 9780062116505
ISBN10: 0062116509
Imprint: Harper
On Sale: 5/1/2012
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 6 x 9
Pages: 272
$24.99
Ages: 18 and Up
I noted when I first read this, and I still find it true: This is the best true crime book I have read since The Devil in the White City. Paul French painstakingly recreates not only the last days of Pamela Werner, but a crumbling China. Like the Columbian Exposition of 1893 in Chicago, Peking was a city made up of cities. The Legation Quarter was an entire neighborhood composed of various nationalities’ embassies, clubs, hotels and theatres. Facades that reminded their frequenters of home, an island in the middle of ancient China.
With Orientalism at its height, in 1936 and 37, a 19 year old Englishwoman should have been having the time of her life. Daughter to a British consul, she could enjoy the exoticism of living in China by living just on the edge of it. But one morning in January 1937, her body is discovered at the base of Fox Tower.
Her violent death shocks Chinese and European Peking alike. Locals fear they will be blamed, while European authorities are loathe to think a fellow foreigner could have done such a thing.
Drawing on Pamela’s father’s extensive notes, as well as newspaper accounts and the files of the two detectives assigned to the case, French breathes new life into a 75 year old murder mystery. And though his research is diligent, there is nothing dry about this book.

Between DCI Dennis and Colonel Han the reader is led through a rabbit warren of opium dens and ancient hutongs, meeting salacious ne’er-do-wells, White Russians, questionable witnesses. The characters — in this case real people — are flawed, human and sympathetic. In fact, it’s hard to even find a true hero, though a number of heroics are performed. Still, these people are so well-drawn by French that you can’t look away.
And the city of Peking is itself a character.
Dennis and Thomas found a table out of sight to all but the white-suited, silent-slippered Chinese waiters who brought whisky sodas and replaced the big brass ashtrays on stands next to each man. The spittoons on the floor were unused by foreigners but were standard Peking fixtures. The ladies and bright young things among the palm fronds were drinking the Wagon Lits’ signature champagne cocktails, or gin rickeys and sherry flips; there was a background noise of ice on metal from the cocktail shakers behind the bar. A string quartet played light, faintly recognizable mood music — the greatest hits of 1935 had eventually made it to Peking. The city tried but it couldn’t help being behind London, Paris and New York.
French has also put together a fantastic website, chronicling all evidence as well as providing photographs and maps of the sites in the book. However, if you haven’t finished the book, be wary as there are spoilers.
Midnight in Peking has brought Pamela Werner out of oblivion and given her new life. And we can walk the streets of old Peking with her, until that cold night in 1937.
ENTER TO WIN A COPY HERE.
________________________________
A great many thanks to the folks at Penguin for the advanced readers copy, and the giveaway copy.
Hardcover: 272 pages
Publisher: Penguin (Non-Classics); 1 edition (April 24, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0143121006
ISBN-13: 978-0143121008
Product Dimensions: 9.1 x 6.3 x 1.2 inches
How cool is this?
A baseball trading card made by the very cool folks at Novel-T. It seems the only way to obtain this awesomeness is to visit their booth, #211, at (LATFOB) this weekend.
Thanks to the folks at Penguin, I am giving away a hardcover copy of MIDNIGHT IN PEKING by Paul French. It’s the best historical true crime I’ve read since The Devil in the White City. (My full review is here)
To enter, please:
1. Leave a comment, with link to a Facebook or Twitter post in which you linked to this giveaway
2. Submit between now and Monday, April 23, 2012 at 4p.m. EST,
2.2 Due to technical difficulties on my part, I’ve extended this giveaway until Monday, April 30, 2012 at 4 p.m. EST.
3. In the comment, include your email in the following format (to reduce spam): name (at) domain (dot) com.
Winners will be chosen via random.org from among the valid entries. US mailing addresses only, please.
Good luck!

I’m not exactly sure where to begin. This book is incredibly fresh and exciting, yet nostalgic and wise. The narrative centers around Mina, a newlywed whose husband is hospitalized during their honeymoon. She mysteriously receives cans of film reels, a lost movie made by her grandfather, a German director. Intrigued, she takes them to Germany to find someone who can run the celluloid, and someone who might know their importance.
Underpinning all of this is the story of her grandfather, Klaus Koblitz. Rather like Germany’s Orson Welles Koblitz finds himself touted as a genius of the silent cinema in the heady days of the Weimar Republic. As he recalls in his journal:
Once upon a time, in another country, I was a young and hopeful cripple. I was a prodigy, the youngest filmmaker in Ufa’s history, the toast of Berlin. I still dream of champagne picnics on the Pfaueninsel, the Zoo-Palast filled with an ocean of flowers, just for me. I dream of Studio B and the sets we built for Jagd zu den Steren.
But all of that has been lost, destroyed, buried, bombed, and burnt. I lived my life for light and love, and now the bean counters and brain shrinkers want to break me. ~Pg. 44
As his star rises, so too does the NSDAP and what will soon bring about the Third Reich in Germany. Koblitz (known as Kino) will have to decide whether to stay in Germany with Ufa, or escape to Hollywood after Goebbels is named the Reichspropogandaminister. But unlike so many of his fellow artists, Kino falls for Goebbels’ flattery and attempts to flourish under the strict artistic vision for the volk.
As a cinema nerd (well, actually I have a Masters in Cinema Studies — and I studied German in college), this book is incredibly exciting. Real life personalities like Fritz Lang, Billy Wilder, GW Pabst and Peter Lorre appear. Classic films, studio heads, and cinema history are the very rich backdrop. Thankfully, Fauth expertly inserts these references and avoids sounding pretentious or false. The focus is always on Kino and his fate.

Fauth’s depiction of interwar Berlin – fleeting, sparkling and dangerous – makes one wish they’d had a chance to see it. There is also the incredible sadness among the revelers, knowing these days are numbered. Reluctance, pride, obsession, stubbornness and desperation all come to a head, in the light of a shining projector.
Mina’s discoveries about her family history unfold in layers. She learns about Kino from his own journal, and from the bits of film she is able to see. When see speaks with her grandmother, once a gorgeous screen goddess, she hears a different version of the same events. Penny is a cranky old woman who swears like a sailor and takes pills like a rock star. Her character is both hysterical and sad. But she also brings a living memory to the story — and just a hint of something supernatural, perhaps slightly steam punk.
Things in Kino’s movies had a tendency to really happen. It was like deja vu, except that you know it isn’t all in your head It often happened when I was tired, when the light was right and I turned my head just so. I’d recognize the way a group of people were arranged on the street or lines of dialogue overheard at the butcher. The more I began to notice it, the more I recognized the shots, details, angles, and compositions all around me. Once you’d seen Kino’s films, these echoes infiltrated the world. Klaus, conceited Arschloch that he was, simply shrugged and took credit — he called himself a visionary, and that suited him fine. He didn’t understand his power, had no idea how to control it, and he didn’t care. His movies set events in motion, I saw that clearly. It was extraordinary. Father and I used to talk about how the new physics might explain the phenomenon, but it only occurred at the edges of subjective perception. ~ Pg. 155
Again, Fauth does not allow the book to become mired down upon itself. After suggesting ideas, he quickly moves on — rather like seeing something out of the corner of your eye, then looking and wondering if you saw anything at all.
If I haven’t been clear, this book is fantastic. Read it. It’s enjoyable on every level. It moves quickly. There is history, adventure, mystery, danger, love, and humor. And like the films that have affected us all, Kino is a story that will stay with you.
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Visit the author’s very cool site and follow his fantastic tumblr. He has made Klaus Koblitz seem so very real!
Many thanks to the folks at Atticus Books for the review copy.
Fiction/Literary Thriller, Trade Paperback Original
ISBN 978-0-9832080-7-5
5.25 x 8 in/248 pages
Publication Date: April 17, 2012
My frequent readers will no doubt sigh and shake their heads at me for reading another English Victorian – set novel to do with murder and madness. I know what I like – what can I do? But this book was different. While it used the framework of a Victorian sensational novel (although it’s technically set in the Edwardian), it brought with it a modern sensibility and told a good yarn.
The main character, Sebastian Becker, has landed a post as the Lord Chancellor’s Visitor in Lunacy. In short, his job is to investigate the sanity of the landed gentry, those with wealth and power bestowed by the Crown. Should they be found wanting in rationality, their title may be stripped and given to the next in line. A strange job, to be sure, and no less adventurous than his previous occupation as a Pinkerton detective in America (a story I hope Gallagher explores in other books). Much like Jonathan Harker, Esq. in Dracula, Becker arrives in an unfamiliar rural town and is met with locals who refuse to talk of their troubled past. They are suspicious of this outsider and assume his unexpected visit can portend nothing good. Indeed, shortly after his arrival, two young girls disappear, only to be found dead hours later. And their unfortunate end is not the first horror experienced by this beachside community. But do they have anything to do with a madman? Is he mad at all?
Becker’s quarry is one Sir Owain Lancaster, lord of Arnside Hall. He’d always been a bit of reckless adventurer, but his latest stories were simply too wild to be believed. I minor inventor, he’d set out in the Amazon to develop a special device for navigating by the stars. But his travel party, including his wife and young son, is decimated in the dense forest. Sir Owain returns with just one survivor — and an unbelievable story of horrid monsters. Insistent, he presents his findings to the public, but some call his sanity into question, the the Crown calls upon Becker.

This lone survivor from the failed mission, Dr. Sibley, is Renfield, Igor and Smithers all in one. He pretends to be Sir Owain’s caregiver, but arouses suspicion. Gallagher introduces him as, “Not so much a man more a slimy shadow. Hanging around in the corner like an undertaker’s mute.” Like everyone else in this town, he is hiding something.
Gallagher artfully brings the past to life by inserting certain details. Film and photography were still in their infancy and the images that were produced had strange effects on their observers. Since little about how it worked was understood by the general populous, just about anything captured on film has to be “real” (i.e. The Cottingley Fairies). Found at the scene of the crime was a small film camera, with film in it. Becker knows it may contain evidence and brings it to local photographer for developing. The studio is described as
at the top of the house, containing attic space and a large skylight. It was reached by a gloomy staircase through the photographer’s living quarters. His private rooms were screened off by a red velvet curtain with braid and tassels, like the dressing on a Punch and Judy booth. Sebastian ascended through the chemical odors of the photographer’s trade, musty and unnatural, and the boiled-cabbage fragrance of his midday meal, even less appetizing.
But even more enjoyable is his inclusion of the traveling fair. Needing a place to view the film once developed, Becker approaches a Bioscope movie tent projectionist.
In this cramped room, dominated by the projection apparatus and smelling of ozone and naptha and nitrates, a young man was cranking the handle to rewind a film spool for the next show. … There was a bench down one side of the wagon. Strips of moving picture film hung from clotheslines above it, all of differing lengths, stirring in the draft from the door like the tails of so many kites. Mental film cans were stacked high on every surface, and on the wall a large hand-painted notice warned of the dangers of sparks and naked flames.
But where does imagination end and discovery begin? The Bedlam Detective tries to define where Victorian idealism meets prehistoric savagery, in the name of science and colonialism. In Becker’s case, he is charged with treating madness as something in need of domestic protection. But Gallagher seems to be noting that herding lunatics is just another form of colonialism — another’s idea of normalcy impressed upon a disparate population. That, and a gentle reminder that monsters can come in many disguises.
Many thanks to Mary at Crown Publishing for the review copy.
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Hardcover: 320 pages
Publisher: Crown (February 7, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0307406644
ISBN-13: 978-0307406644
Dimensions: 6.6 x 1.2 x 9.6 inches
This novel is a balanced mixture of psychological thriller and police procedural, primarily told from the point of view of Leo Curtice, a defense lawyer. He is assigned the case of Daniel Blake, a twelve-year-old accused of killing his eleven-year-old classmate. Curtice seems clear that his job is to protect the boy as his fate is decided by those who are distant, older and caught up in the emotions of the situation. But when threatening letters begin arriving, Curtice must decide if he can defend the child and keep his own family safe.
Lelic manages to walk a fine line in telling this story. The horrors of the crime are clear but not gory. The accused is sympathetic but not excused. Where to place blame is not clear. Curtice himself is a parent who struggles with his duty to his job with his duty to protect his wife and daughter. In many ways, it reads like a novelized version of an episode of Law & Order: UK. Lelic attempts to tell the story with all aspects in mind.
The narrative moves quickly from investigation to legal procedure, interspersed with internal thoughts. Lelic does so with deep descriptions.
The kitchen is dark and she leaves it dark until she gathers the will to boil an egg. The shell is fiddly, though, and she scalds her fingers and in the end she cannot be bothered with it. She slides the plate away, toast and egg cup and all, and pull her mug of tea and cigarettes nearer. Her phone, too. She checks the screen, just in case she has missed a call, even though the house is silent and the phone has barely left her grip. Page 2.
The track curved and the train tipped and the ground beneath them seemed to fall away. Out of one window reared a ragged cliff face; in the other, the bucking seas. A wave lunged and clawed the track, then slid back into the writhing mass. the water, in the winter sun, sparkled like a lunatic’s grin. It seemed joyous, heedless, unconstrained in its dementia. It launched itself again and this time lashed the carriage but the train seemed to barely judder. It sped on – lungs full, head down – and dived for the approaching tunnel. Page 151.
This novel brings to the fore questions about identity, nature vs nurture, and responsibility, all while telling a fast-paced story.
Many thanks to Elaine at Penguin for the review copy.
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ISBN 9780143120919 | 320 pages | 28 Feb 2012 | Penguin | 8.26 x 5.23in | 18 – AND UP
I am quite aware that this is a series, and a popular one at that, but this is the first Maisie Dobbs novel I have read. Spunky and precocious, Dobbs defies convention by owning her own business and having skipped a few rungs on the social class ladder. Maisie grew up on the “other” side of the river but is now the proprietress of a detective agency. With smart, capable people in her employ, she takes on cases for hire. Set in early 1930s London, England is dealing with post-war fatigue and an overwhelming, industrialized future coming too fast.
This particular case involves a young man named Eddie who turns up dead. Maisie is approached by people from her past to find out what happened to him. In her investigation she meets strict factory men, low-class drunkards, gentle widows, thugs and coppers. Maisie’s peculiar situation allows her to float between the upper crust and downtrodden and gives the reader a sense of the vast divide between them. And the reader gets a sense that she doesn’t quite fit in either place.
This is a pleasurable book, something to read for amusement. Winspear’s description and characterization is strong, but the plot felt contrived. In that way, it is like a less mature Agatha Christie. One thing Winspear does exceedingly well is give context. The victim is a horse whisperer in an age when carriages are being replaced by cars. The city is moving from the organic to the mechanized and the transition is anything but smooth. This theme is very well-explored throughout the novel.
The Bookhams paper factory was located close to the Albert Embankment in Lambeth, between Salamanca Street and Glasshouse Lane. Not for the first time in recent weeks, the MG had failed to start, which meant that Maisie risked being late. Pg. 45
Number 1 Shelley Street, the address given for Evelyn Butterworth, proved to be a narrow, modest, end-of-terrace house divided into flats, not far from King’s Cross station. Though not in a particularly good area, someone had tried to make a garden, but soot from the trains rendered the district grey and tired and even the sunshine failed to cheer the street. Looking up at the house, Maisie noticed that the curtains on the third floor were quite bright. Pg. 154-5.
Dobbs, follows various leads across London, while trying to maintain relationships further complicated by her independent spirit. The case itself is not one the reader will try to solve, really. Instead, the reader is just along for the ride – be it by horse drawn buggy or motorized convertible.
Many thanks to the folks at HarperCollins for the review copy.
The fine folks at HarperCollins are hosting Twitter chats each week all month to celebrate the series. The hashtag is #Maisie and the next one will be on Friday, 3/23 at 4 pm est and then again on Friday, 3/30 at 3 pm. You can find more info on Jackie’s Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/#!/
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ISBN: 9780062049575
ISBN10: 0062049577
Imprint: Harper
On Sale: 3/27/2012
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 6 x 9
Pages: 352
$25.99
Ages: 18 and Up

This was one of those books that just appeared, unsolicited, in my mailbox. While I always give those surprise titles a glance, I usually don’t have time to read and review them in addition to the ones I’ve already committed to. Add to that my suspicion of modern novels and it’s strange that I even ended up reading it.
I suppose I mention this only because I’m still reeling from how I was sucked into it.

The story revolves around a brilliant con-woman and her marks, but it is more than cat-and-mouse game. Multiple narratives twist together to form a story of identity and suspense. Various points-of-view overlap and slowly a clear picture comes into focus. Each narrator has its own voice, yet the author’s style remains clear. And although each narrator is unreliable in its own way, the reader can begin to piece together the truth. Of course, there are still come unanswered philosophical questions for the reader to answer for themselves.
The writing is fresh without being forced. Here are a couple of excerpts:
With a peculiar copper taste in his mouth, he took the elevator back down and walked back through the lobby. He felt like a figure in an illustration manual. Slumping nearly in tears on a bench in front of the building, he again dialed Cas, who picked up on the first ring.
pg. 56In the dark, the house with its tall peaked roof resembles a witch’s hat. The windows were covered with frilly sheers and the driveway was a humped pour of macadam that glistened in the streetlight like a pair of new shoes. To the letter, it was the kind of tidy working-class home that she had staked her entire life avoiding.
pg. 195
This book is solidly literary and yet delightfully sensational. Gottlieb takes a simple idea and explores it from multiple angles, bringing life to various points of view and taking the reader on a psychological adventure.
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Many thanks to the folks at HarperCollins for the review copy. Visit the author’s site.
ISBN: 9780061735059
Imprint: William Morrow
On Sale: 1/17/2012
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 5 1/2 x 8 1/4
Pages: 256
$24.99; Ages: 18 and Up

I am still reeling from this book. Surprising at every turn — and I’m not easily surprised. Nor am I easily impressed, particularly when it comes to books. The writing is fabulous – both in style and in storytelling.

The first-person narrator, Harriet Baxter, is an older women now, in 1933. She has decided to set down certain aspects of her life 50 years ago in 1888 and 1889 Glasgow. What begins as a much-needed change of scenery, and a bit of adventure by visiting the International Exhibition, becomes a life-changing experience — for everyone.
Quite by chance, she befriends a struggling but up-and-coming painter on the Glasgow scene. Ned Gillespie is a devoted family man. He adores his wife and their two daughters. They’ve managed to carve out a relatively happy life. Harriet, herself with no family other than a stepfather she rarely sees, spends more and more time with the Gillespie family, determined to help in any way she can. She becomes a self-appointed patron of their art as well as their struggles.
Although there is a great deal more to say about the story, I will refrain. Much of the beauty of this novel is how it unfolds and revealing too much here would deprive any reader of that enjoyment.
Harris’ characterizations are wonderful and delightfully Victorian. She finds a strong voice with Harriet, both in her memories and in her contemporary musings. She defies the code of her time. Here are two excerpts from early in the book.
This was such an exhausting conversation, hostile and full of dead ends. I had forgotten that such was the only type of discussion in which my stepfather engaged; his interlocutors were always his adversaries; indeed he did not feel that he was engaged in real dialogue unless one participant ended by triumphing over the other. I will admit to feeling frustrated. We had not seen each other for many years; it seemed hard to believe that we were embroiled in such a pointless, combative exchange about nothing more meaningful than gadgets.
‘No, sir,’ I said, shortly. ‘ I know of no such device.’
His lip curled, and he gazed at me, askance: if I were a representative of the modern world, then it would appear that I was distinctly below par in his estimation. Immediately I was filled with regret and anxiety: I had let him down! As a child, I had learned all about kaleidoscopes, in the hope of pleasing him. If only I was better informed, now, about carpet sweepers.
page 54-55
‘Pteridomania!’ exclaimed Peden. ‘ That dreaded disease.’ He angled his body away from me, in order to address me, sideways, over his shoulder. ‘It seems that when you ladies are weary of novels and gossip and crochet, you find much entertainment in ferns. No doubt you preside over a fern collection, Miss Baxter?’
‘Sadly, no!’ I replied. ‘What with all my novels and gossip and crochet, there’s no time left for ferns.’
The astute reader will, of course, realise that I was employing irony; by Mr Peden gave a self-satisfied nod – as though I had proven his point.
page 61
Like Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurier, at about the halfway point, the story takes an unexpected turn. It’s a brilliant misdirection and meant that I spent each free moment intent on reading just a few more pages. I barreled though to the end, desperate to know what will happen. Since finishing it, I’ve been suffering from acute withdrawal, and I continue to ruminate on it. Harris’ writing is at once fresh and vintage. The epistolary style harkens to the great Victorian novels Harriet herself eschews. I truly can’t wait for her next effort.
The author’s website: http://www.janeharris.com/
Many thanks to Erica at HarperPerennial for the review copy.
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ISBN: 9780062103208
ISBN10: 0062103202
Imprint: Harper Perennial
On Sale: 1/31/2012
Format: Trade PB
Trimsize: 5 5/16 x 8
Pages: 528
$14.99
Ages: 18 and Up
If HG Wells, Dave Barry and Jasper Fforde had a child, it would be Sam Leith. Refreshingly original and smart, this novel follows multiple points of view ranging from a lovesick youth, a thug with no ability to judge consequences, a mastermind with a cutting sense of humor and an agent with a troubled past.
It begins with the unlikely incident of a hurricane assembling an airplane out of scrap metal. This tips off the secret agency, the Department of the Extremely Improbable, that something is afoot. It seems a coincidence engine, a machine that bends the psychics of chance and will, is on the move and a number of forces want to capture it. The hunt is on, though no one quite knows what they are looking for. It’s an adventure for the well-drawn characters as well as the reader.
Part steam-punk, part road trip, part comedy of errors, The Coincidence Engine is entirely readable. The language is rich and swirling and, thankfully, very British. Too often American publications include a stripping of dialectic idioms. I love how eccentric the writing is allowed to be.
Here’s an example:
“Herbert Owse’s Antiquarian Omnium Gatherum stood on Burleigh Street, and was manned by a rubicund numismatist with a wild beard and a liking for checking shirts and moleskin waistcoats. His socks, though this is of scant relevance here, were held up with suspenders. His name was not Herbert Owse.”
Leith finds an admirable balance between silliness and poignancy in his debut novel. Witty, urbane and comic, I look forward to reading Sam Leith in the future.
Many thanks to the folks at Candlewick Press for the review copy.
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ISBN-10 / ISBN-13: 0763656941 / 9780763656942
on sale date: 08/2011
type/format: Hard Cover
# of pages/size: 304 / 5 1/8″ x 7 5/8″
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| Montaigne’s Chateau |

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| du Maurier on the stairs of her beloved home, Menabilly |
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| Just one of the gorgeous illustrations by Ian Schoenherr |
| One of my MANY photos from the Chelsea Physic Garden |
Last year, the only challenge I entered myself in was a goal of 50 books, tracked by Goodreads. I hit my goal, but this year I wanted to mix things up a little and give some props to other book bloggers. I found a great list of options at Novel Challenges. It’s searchable by keyword and by year.
Merely Mystery Reading Challenge 2012
This challenge breaks down mysteries into sub-genres and the readers are encouraged to choose titles from the various types. Choose from The Whodunit, Locked Room Mystery, Cozy, Hard-Boiled/Noir, The Inverted Detective Story, The Historical Whodunnit, The Police Procedural, The Professional Thriller, The Spy Novel, Caper Stories, The Psychological Suspense, Spoofs and Parodies. And this one has a prize!
Victorian Challenge 2012
So this might not be much of a challenge since I read a great deal of Victorian literature already, but it will help me focus on some authors and works I have yet to delve into. This one works more like a book club, setting authors in advance. January: The Bronte Sisters, February: Charles Dickens, March: Robert Louis Stevenson, April: Emily Dickinson, May: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, June: George Eliot, July: Oscar Wilde, August: Anthony Trollope, September: Elizabeth Gaskell, October: Mark Twain, November: Lewis Carroll, December: Louisa May Alcott.

Tea & Books Reading Challenge
From the site: This challenge was inspired by C.S. Lewis’ famous words, “You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.” You better settle in with a large cup of tea, because in this challenge you will only get to read books with more than 700 pages.
I’ve only committed to two, making me a “Chamomile Lover.”
What will you read this year?
Hardcover: 352 pages
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Language: EnglishISBN-10: 1605980862
Paperback: 480 pages
Publisher: Washington Square Press
Language: EnglishISBN-10: 1439198861
Christmas hustle and bustle got you harried? Want to win something? For yourself? You don’t have to tell… just leave a comment below and you’ll be entered to win a copy of A DISCOVERY OF WITCHES, out in paperback this December 27. Easier than reciting a magic spell!
Here’s a bit about the book:
- Set in real, storied and historic places on the campus of Oxford University, England.
- It debuted at # 2 on the New York Times bestseller list and was published in 34 countries.
- Warner Brothers has acquired screen rights to A DISCOVERY OF WITCHES and its sequels.
- A second installment in the All Souls Trilogy, Shadow of Night, is due out in summer 2012.
- Read about the author and her works here: http://deborahharkness.com/discovery-of-witches/
THIS GIVEAWAY IS OVER. CONGRATULATIONS TO JENNIFER.
Here’s a bit about the giveaway:
- To enter, leave a comment on this post with A) Your First Name & B) Your Email in the following format [email (at) domain (dot) com.
- Winner will be chosen via random.org. Entries must be posted on December 30, no later than 5:00pm EST.
- Prize is one paperback copy of A DISCOVERY OF WITCHES by Deborah Harkness.
- Prize will be mailed directly to the winner from the publisher.
Good luck!!
Some stories garner a chuckle. Some make you feel like you’ve been stabbed in the heart. Others simply remind you to stop and smell the roses. None are overly sentimental; rather these make up a sort of Poor Richard’s Almanack for modern life.
But don’t just take my (or even their) word for it. Let these “excerpts” speak for themselves.
Format: Trade Paperback, 352 pages
On Sale: August 16, 2011
ISBN: 978-1-59051-415-3 (1-59051-415-7)
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| Kitty Genovese |
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| One of my prized finds. |
Preston takes actual pieces of vintage ephemera and constructs a story about a young girl who’s growing up during the fabulous Roaring 20s. Frankie Pratt lands a scholarship at Vassar, rubs elbows with wealthy socialites, gets a broken heart, dances the Charleston, and lives it up in Art Deco Manhattan and expatriate Paris.
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| Page 116 |
Preston’s narrator is sweet, naive but not useless. She is reminiscent of Cassandra from Dodie Smith’s I Capture the Castle. She chooses experience over caution, but she’s not spoiled or reckless. Simply a smart girl who wants to get the most out of life. And her scrapbook makes her even more endearing to the reader.
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| Page 180 |
Preston’s collection is even more impressive when you learn that it’s all real. She created an actual scrapbook of actual items that she found. Preston recalls, “In all I collected over 600 pieces of original 1920′s ephemera. Some I found in my own stash of vintage paper, the rest I tracked down and bought from dozens of antique stores and hundreds of eBay sellers.” And she did a beautiful job.
The Scrapbook of Frankie Pratt reads, in parts, a bit like a young adult book but not enough to be only read as such. It’s completely enjoyable for any age. The items found on the pages enlighten the reader about a past era. Frankie Pratt is a lively voice from the past.
Many thanks to Heather at HarperCollins for the review copy.
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ISBN: 9780061966903
Imprint: Ecco
10/25/2011
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 6 x 9
Pages: 240; $25.99
Somewhat jaded, Rumpole has seen it all at this point. He is little fazed by the cluelessness of dregs of society or the incredible antics of the Ministers of Parliament. His nonchalant narrative makes the stories all the more entertaining for a lay audience. One needn’t be a student of the law to get caught up in the tales of the court anymore than you need to have a country house to want to go Bunburying. I will admit, however, that my maniacal watching of Law & Order: UK hasn’t hurt any with some of the vocabulary.
Unlike Bertie Wooster, Rumpole is actually trying to better his world, one client at a time. He doesn’t think of himself first, or rely on a Jeeves to get him out of a scrape. Rumpole takes on injustice when everything stacked against him. He thrives on it. He’s a bit like Wile E. Coyote, except his traps actually work. While other barristers and solicitors are content with a deposition, Rumpole finds the one tiny detail that unravels an entire case.
Reading Rumpole is a sheer delight. The stories are lithe and funny. Mortimer has drawn imperfect, realistic characters for us to watch from the gallery. Or better yet, beside him at a pub, sharing a pint and stories of “that time when…”.
A great many thanks to Meghan at Viking for the review copy.
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ISBN 9780670023066 | 528 pages | 10 Nov 2011 | Viking Adult | 5.98 x 9.01in | 18 – AND UP
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| From O. Henry’s Full House (1952) |
ISBN 978-1-60598-265-6
Size 6 x 9
272 pages
Fiction
December 5, 2011
Embassytown, Miéville’s most recent release, contains the memoirs of Avice, a human colonist born on a distant planet, who as a child becomes a figure of speech, a simile, in the native Ariekei’s unique language. A self proclaimed floaker, she nevertheless tries to save the Ariekei, and the humans, after an outsider’s use of the Ariekei language upsets the biological balance of the planet.
The City and the City is a murder mystery spanning two cities which share a border unlike any other, where every stray step or wayward glance is prosecuted by an all-seeing power with unquestioned and indeterminate authority.
Often Miéville’s words themselves are other, an obvious necessity to describe new concepts and ideas. Grosstopically describes geographic proximity across invisible yet impassable boarders. Space without time is named the immer (a German word for “always” which dovetails with English in ways that make any language lover swoon). Floaking well… you get the idea. Acute attention is required to understand the story, and it is like using an old muscle, but it is also like undoing what has been done, traveling back to a time in childhood when the intoxicating newness of every story stretched the membrane of reality ever thinner and made the world proportionally bigger with every word.
I will let you decide how Miéville’s words are like a drug and how they are not like a drug, but any of these three books will give you something which is exhilarating and mind altering and addicting in all the best ways.
In my copy of Kraken, Mr. Miéville inscribed “Honored to have ruined your coffee.” Whether his words drove me to general distraction, or he employed a more directed manipulation of language, I am grateful to Mr. Miéville for showing me that at thirty years old I can still experience the pure enchantment of discovery, even at the expense of my everyday routine.
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| Tracy with author China Mieville |
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| The Green Dragon Tavern, the cradle of the Boston Tea Party |
America Walks into a Bar
A Spirited History of Taverns and Saloons, Speakeasies and Grog Shops
Christine Sismondo
ISBN13: 9780199734955
ISBN10: 019973495X
Hardback, 336 pages

Can’t get enough of ghoulish stories? Neither can I! Which means I have even more creepy titles to suggest for Halloween — and any chilly, fall night best spent by the fire.
How about something easy to get into and tough to put down? Try MISS PEREGRINE’S HOME FOR PECULIAR CHILDREN by Ransom Riggs. It’s a very fun read and interspersed with strange photographs.
Can’t get enough of salacious mysteries? Try THE CRADLE IN THE GRAVE by Sophie Hannah. Frighteningly realistic police procedural.
A strange disappearance and a race to find the truth are the object of the entirely-true, bone-chilling tale of THE LOST CYCLIST by David Herlihy.
Or try something in the realm of the impossible made entirely plausible in a collection of short stories by Ben Loory. STORIES FOR THE NIGHTTIME AND SOME FOR THE DAY is unlike anything else.
This gallery contains 6 photos.
Why I named my dog Archie. weeklylizard: Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin at the movies (and on the radio). Read more here.
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| Favored suspect Franz Muller |
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Many thanks to Kate at Overlook Press for the review copy.
Murder in the First-Class Carriage
By Kate Colquhoun
352 pages
ISBN 13: 978-1-59020-675-1
Trim Size: 6 x 9
Release Date: October 27, 2011


Can you identify any of the other ne-er-do-wells pictured?

October is my favorite month. It always has been, even when I lived in different parts of the country. Of course, it’s no coincidence that October means Halloween for me. Scary stories, chocolate, costumes – what’s not to love! So, as the days grow shorter and cooler, here are some suggestions for the change in weather. I’ll read a creepy story any time of the year, but these titles make you want to curl up with a strange, mysterious or frightening book.
Steampunk! An Anthology of Fantastically Rich and Strange Stories
Edited by Kelly Link & Gavin Grant
Believing is Seeing: Observations on the Mysteries of Photography
By Errol Morris
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| Reproduction of the photo |
ALSO, watch for my upcoming review of MURDER ON THE FIRST-CLASS CARRIAGE: THE FIRST VICTORIAN RAILWAY KILLING by Kate Colquhoun. It goes live 10/21.

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| The mysterious benefactor of “A Secret Gift” |
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| Publicity postcard for Rules of Civility |
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| Fashion photo by Hoyningen-Heune, 1938 |
And we have a winner! Terry’s comment was chosen on random.org.
Of Sherlock, Terry said: “As to why I love Mr. Holmes, he’s the original, brilliant misanthrope. Before there was Gregory House, almost before there was even Allan Quatermain, there was Sherlock Holmes.”
Thanks to everyone who entered and to the folks at Penguin Classics for providing the prize!
Keep sleuthing everyone!

| At Sherlock’s house. |
I did not receive a review copy of this book.
View the author’s site here: http://www.ransomriggs.com/
ISBN:9781594744761
Book Dimensions:5 3/16 x 8 3/16
Page Count: 352
Release Date: June 7, 2011
Book Price:$17.99
This book draws some of its characters from strange portraits. Reproductions of the photos are sprinkled throughout the book. I too have a small collection of odd pictures, found at fairs, yard sales and museums. Here I’ve couple the book with one of my favorites of a school teacher, his wife, and a rabbit in a top hat.
My review of the book will be posted soon.
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| The original BBC building, Regents Street, London. |
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| Trafalgar Square, London, 1920. |
The second section traces the ill-fated Frank Lenz in his attempt to circle the globe on a safety bicycle (excepting the oceans and other impassable sections, of course). His determination captured the affections of the general public and he became a household name. When the story became about Lenz’s disappearance, it seemed everyone had an opinion.
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| William Sachtleben and Thomas Allen |
At times, the first half seems to move slowly. The groundwork laid in the initial pages does become important to the second half, but it’s hard to know that. It would have helped to drop a hint of the second half at the outset so the reader is looking for the two tales to merge.
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| An abandoned home in Provence / http://abandonedplaces.livejournal.com/2118536.html |
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| Author Loory, as enigmatic as his stories. |
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| Author, screenwriter and host Rod Serling. |
To this day, one of the most unnerving and unusual is “Die Wassernixe”, or “The Water Sprite.” In short, a brother and a sister are playing near a well (or fountain, depending on the version) and fall in. They are captured by the lazy-but-not-that-evil nymph who lives there. She makes them do her chores, which include carrying water in a bucket with a hole in it (it’s not clear why, since she lives underwater). One day, when the Wassernixe goes to church (yes! she goes to church!), the kids try to make their escape. She goes after them so to slow her down the girl throws a hairbrush over her shoulder, which promptly turns into a mountain of bristles. This only causes a minor delay so the brother then does the same with his comb, with similar results. Finally, the sister throws her mirror, which turns into a great mountain of glass, too slippery for the Sprite.
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| Resort and spa town of Bad Munstereifel. (“Bad” means “bath.”) |
Pia is far from perfect — she is still learning, after all — but she is extraordinarily heartfelt and endearing. She is a reminder to speak up when it is important, and go your own way if no one listens. They’ll catch up.
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Thank you to the folks at Bantam / Random House for the review copy.
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Bantam (April 26, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 038534418X
ISBN-13: 978-0385344180

This gallery contains 5 photos.
Sigh… *want* wwnorton: Look at these beautiful new P. G. Wodehouse paperbacks from Norton. Just look at them!


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| Novelist Bram Stoker |
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| Murnau’s Count Orlok in Nosferatu |
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| A chateau in Provence |
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| The cour Mirabeau, a main location in the novel |
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| Boris Karloff and Anna Lee in Bedlam |
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| Jane Avril, a famous dancer at the Moulin Rouge, was an occasional patient of Charcot. |
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| A still image from “Everything is Illuminated” |
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| Trochenbroders on the main street |
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| What used to be the main street of Trochenbrod today |
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| The Dodd Family disembarks in Hamburg, 1933 |
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| The US Embassy at the time of Dodd’s service |
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| Ambassador Dodd at his desk, a far cry from the simplicity he craved |
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| A jet-setting Martha Dodd |
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| Title page of Dodd’s diary, complied by his children. One of Larson’s main sources. |
Pages: 464 | ISBN: 978-0-307-40884-6

It’s fun, adventurous and a great summer read. And it’s about to get even more fun! The great folks from HarperCollins did a limited run printing of the fantastic cover art by Dan Stiles (see the art at the top of this post). Each is numbered and signed and one can be YOURS. All you have to do is leave a comment below, with your email address. You can get extra entries by posting a mention to your blog, Facebook or Twitter. Just be sure to send me a link in the comments. The contest will end Monday, June 6, 2011 at 10:00pm EST. I will choose a winner at random.
US only, please. [THIS CONTEST IS NOW OVER.]
Watch the fun, animated book trailer here:
I’m also going to give a shout out to author Shane Jones (Light Boxes). His blog is atypical and his tweets can be even more abstruse, but quite enjoyable nonetheless.
I read so much, and I enjoy many things for different reasons. It’s hard to call something the “best”. But in the name of Armchair BEA, here goes…
THE DIVINER’S TALE by Bradford Morrow
Read my review here.
POX: AN AMERICAN HISTORY by Michael Willrich
This one made the cut because I didn’t know a disease could be so fascinating. Of course, it is about much more than a single disease. Rather it is an investigation into social standards, the advance of medicine, and a discussion of the debate still going on 100 years later — the morality of compulsory vaccination.
Read my review here.
I’m blogging from my home in a Historic District near Savannah, GA. This is my first Armchair BEA, and I’m hoping to “meet” some great bloggers, authors and publicists!
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| The home in San Marino that Rockefeller claimed to live in. |
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| http://apetcher.files.wordpress.com/2009/11/eugene-schieffelin.jpg |
| Paul Robeson as Othello |
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| Anne Hathaway’s cottage, most likely the wife of William Shakespeare. |