2024 #52 Pines (Crouch) - Wayward Pines #1

 

Pines by Blake Crouch
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

The premise is great, typical of Blake Crouch. However, the chapters upon chapters of Ethan running and rock climbing I could have done without. I almost gave up, but luckily all is revealed and I'm in for the trilogy.

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2024 #51 Burial of Ghosts (Cleeves

 

Burial of Ghosts by Ann Cleeves
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Really, this is a 2.75 for me. At first I thought perhaps I was jaded by the fact that I read this before bed, so therefore only got a few pages in at a time. But after reading the reviews of others, I feel my complaints are valid. I generally like Ann Cleeves' work, however, so that's why this is a three, instead of a two.

First, everything from the cover art to the blurb on the front and the back oversell this story. Lizzie Bartholomew's terrifying secrets? Still not sure what they are. I found her character very unlikeable, or at least inconsistent, and none of the other characters were that interesting. Her "past" pops up at the strangest of times, but I didn't care enough about her in the present to be invested. I truly didn't care about either of the main deaths, and the whole premise seemed a bit flimsy. Not my favorite.

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2024 #50: Monk's Hood - Brother Cadfael #3 (Peters)

 

Monk's Hood by Ellis Peters
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I was so excited to see Derek Jacobi as the reader, I failed to notice that this edition is abridged. Still, worth it to hear Jacobi's reading (and no doubt fans of the TV series will enjoy it even more). I much preferred Monk's Hood to the previous One Corpse Too Many as it returns to the cast of characters at Cadfael's abbey, including the imperious and somewhat comical Prior Robert. I'm very pleased to know that Hugh Beringar, introduced in the second book, will be a recurring character in the series. I understand that this second book was the first in the TV series to allow them to introduce Beringar, and I can see why. The subtle quips and dry humor makes this series particularly engaging.

As the book was abridged, I won't comment too much on the pacing or the plot. We do get more of Cadfael's backstory in the form of a new character, Richildis. The reveal was not hugely surprising, but still complex enough to be interesting! Sadly, while I will miss Jacobi's reading, I will return to the unabridged audiobooks read by narrated by Patrick Tull, as I enjoyed his reading of the first in the series.

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2024 #49 The Five Keys to Mindful Communication (Chapman)

 

The Five Keys to Mindful Communication: Using Deep Listening and Mindful Speech to Strengthen Relationships, Heal Conflicts, and Accomplish Your Goals by Susan Gillis Chapman
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

While there are five keys, the entire book centers upon an idea of stoplights:

Go with the green light.
Stop when the light is red.
Be careful when the light is yellow.

The author returns to this model in each of the segments of the book so there is some continuity. There are plentiful examples of what constitutes these green, yellow, and red light moments, and the walkthrough of mindful presence, mindful listening, mindful speech, mindful relationship, and mindful action is pretty clear. If the reader is new to mindfulness practice, this should be used in tandem with a book on basic meditation and mindfulness practices, as Chapman does not provide detailed suggestions. She does mention metta (aka "loving-kindness meditation), and it gets fairly spiritual, with images of "loving Mother" and such. She peppers in plentiful metaphors and analogies, some that work better than others, although mileage will inevitably vary on that front. What seems most crucial is to understand the "Stop when the light is red" not as a call to withdraw or freeze, but to turn inward and to recognize what she calls "closed conversation" patterns. There are some concrete "tips" and ultimately, as is the case with almost all books on mindful communication, it really is about practicing so that things like "speaking from the I" become habitual. I found the "seasons" analogy least helpful (applied in regard to relationships), but again, I think some parts will resonate differently with others. She did offer something about wedding vows that I thought quite potent: vows are statements of intention, but the import of those statements is no at the moment they are uttered, but when you come to those places in the road where those vows are inevitably tested. Seems obvious, but perhaps mindful attention to those vows as operating in this way could curtail (for some) a trip down the wrong path.

The audiobook was narrated by Gabra Zackman, and I had to keep reminding myself that I was not listening to the author. She has the perfect voice for the material, and keeps even the more ethereal/spiritual topics at an even keel, without that saccharine vibe that infects other books in the genre. The book has journal exercises, but what I found most helpful are the "seven stepping stones" at the end of the book. Others may benefit more from the self-reflection. As with most of these books, there is nothing earth-shattering that defies common sense, but Chapman does an admirable job of providing the stoplight anchor as a metaphorical model to encourage us to put mindful communication into practice.



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2024 #48 One Corpse Too Many - Brother Cadfael #2 (Peters)

 

One Corpse Too Many by Ellis Peters
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I might go back to the audiobook format for the series, but I did enjoy this read. The characters are great, including the foe who becomes a friend. The political aspects between Stephen and Maud are left a bit blurry, with King Stephen getting more airtime, but the introduction of Godric near the beginning makes for a fun ride. This is definitely character-driven, although I found Cadfael's manipulation a bit tedious at times. Aline Siward is hard to picture in my mind, and I found it difficult to sympathize with her character, but I did love Godric, Torold Blund, and especially Hugh Beringar, one of the more interesting characters.

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2024 #47 Uncommon Grounds (Prendergast)

 

Uncommon Grounds: The History of Coffee and How It Transformed Our World by Mark Pendergrast
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I bought this book sometime in 2013 and have read it in fits and starts since then, but only in earnest since last year. Thus is the fate of books in my Kindle app, sometimes. But it is to the book's credit that I bought it for a specific reason--some context on the Coffee Cantata by J.S. Bach for a documentary project I was involved in--but I wound up reading the entire book because it was so exhaustive and fascinating. Indeed, from the Ottoman Empire to Starbucks, Pendergrast traces the commodification and history of the beverage itself, the drinkers, the farmers, the roasters, the purveyors, and some folks in between. If you need a fairly deep dive into the intimate relationship between coffee and world politics, this is a good one.

From myths of goatherds, to 18th-c feminist fights for coffee via Abigail Adams, onward to the U.S.'s dangerous dancing with Brazil, as well as domestic coffee wars, there are few stones left unturned here. At times the information felt a bit overwhelming, with some zooming in on economic minutiae that some readers might appreciate, but might disrupt the energy of the narrative for others. It is the kind of book, however, that makes you glad you learned more than you had set out to, and while it lays bare a lot of the unsavory practices and issues surrounding coffee, Prendergrast ultimately reminds us that it is part of a "matrix" and says:

Compared with many other products developed countries demand in cheap quantity, however, coffee is relatively benign. Laboring on banana, sugar, or cotton plantations or sweating in gold and diamond mines and oil refineries is far worse.

Whether that dose of relativism brings one solace or not is an individual experience, but regardless, Uncommon Grounds is an informative and multifaceted report that may make you take that morning cup of joe a bit less for granted.

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2024 #46 The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store (McBride)

 

The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store by James McBride
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Honestly a 3.75 for me, but with some really strong sections between 4-5 stars. That's my biggest issue with the book--unevenness. Some of the characters are so well written: Moshe, Chona, Dodo, and even "Monkey Pants." There are everyday heroes and everyday criminals and that seems to be a lot of the point. In a small town in Pennsylvania people are living their stories as they intersect with ethnic and racial tensions that range from making assumptions to violence. The book dragged in places for me--I did not find Fatty and Big Soap as compelling as Nate, Paper, and some of the other sundry personalities. McBride town-builds (as opposed to world-builds) and does so very effectively. I just struggled with being teased by one thread only to have it supplanted by another less interesting one.

What is important, however, is that the book really drives home that the world (and race relations) is NOT black and white. People have intersectional identities that both enrich and complicate their narratives, and McBride zooms in on a town that acts as a microcosm of this more general truth. The "guy next door" is always going to be a lot of things, and how we bear witness to each other things makes (and sometimes breaks) a community.

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2024 #45 Our Missing Hearts (Ng)

 

Our Missing Hearts by Celeste Ng
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

"Nonsense, mystery, and magic." The mainstays of childhood. Or so they should be. In Celeste Ng's dystopic not-so-distant-future novel, stories and poems figure heavily in the fight against tyranny. The novel is beautiful and distressing all at once. Rather than solely focused on the political, Ng crafts her tale around 12 year old Bird (aka Noah), whose mother has seemingly abandoned him in the wake of the Crisis, to live in a campus dorm with his father who works at the university library as a clerk, although he had recently been a professor. One is swiftly aware that life under PACT (Preserving American Cultures and Traditions) has come with many terrors and secrets, not least of which is children who have gone missing. Strange artistic forms of protest begin to appear, resistance in the form of yarn and hearts.

"They [the police] are equipped for violence, but not for this" the narrator tells us as the police stand around a tree that has been wrapped in red yarn.

The most impactful dystopias are those that are not a far reach from our realities--ones where we can say "It CAN happen here." While there are moments where the backstory of the poem (All Our Missing Hears), in particular, got a bit heavy-handed (hits you over the head with the message and drags on a bit), the book is full of grace and small acts of heroism that blossom into resistance. But it is also about people and relationships. For once, I loved the ending, as it was real in feeling and drove home the point of the book better than some of the more obvious attempts at a cautionary tale. And yes, librarians might save the world.

Lucy Liu's reading was near perfect -- without caricature, but just subtle enough to clearly define the individual characters.

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2024 #44 Yesternight (Winters)

 

Yesternight by Cat Winters
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Slow in the beginning, but it picks up quite a bit of speed. What was refreshing in the audiobook (and the print version, I suppose, since some of it is the language) is that the characters have modern relevance--there is no false 1920s affect--they are just people living their lives. Rebecca and Michael, for example, could easily be a twenty-first century pair of exes. Voiced by Xe Sands, with only a bit of artifice when it came to the male voices, the story traces the journey(s) of Alice Lind, a young itinerant child psychologist whose assigned to administer psychological tests to school children. In the small coastal town of Gordon Bay, Oregon, she encounters seven-year-old Janie O'Daire, a math genius who holds secrets and truths that force Alice to confront her own assumptions and beliefs.

Certainly it is a haunting tale, and the subtext of Alice's challenges as a woman in male-dominated field sometimes comes crashing through without subtlety, but it does help shape her character. I found some of the descriptive detail superfluous, ranging from an obsession with the weather to a rather graphic encounter in a hotel room, made tedious because I didn't much care for either character enough to be privy to their intimacy.

That the ending is unresolved and we are left wondering what the future holds was actually refreshing. There are a few annoyances around the name "Nel" and at least one of the possibilities doesn't even seem to be an intentional red herring (Eleanor - "Nell"). That's not really a spoiler. There's also an exponential increase in speed in the last quarter of the book, which I found a bit aggravating. Having invested so much in Alice, her story moved far too quickly for me once Janie's was "settled."

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2024 #43: Do Not Disturb (McFadden)

 

Do Not Disturb by Freida McFadden
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Honestly more of a 2.5 - 2.75 for me. For the first 25 chapters I kept thinking, "Psycho called and wants its story back." I'm all for troping the classics, but it didn't feel clever or original enough to be an interesting take on Psycho, OR, as was often the case with the wonderful TV series Supernatural a tongue-in-cheek parody, which I would also have welcomed. That said, for such a quick listen, I wasn't about to declare it DNF, and was happy that things started to take a turn in Chapter 26. But then....things got a bit wonky--as if the plot was being improvised on the spot. I've read other reviews applauding the "twists and turns" and for me it felt more like a windy road under construction with detours that warranted other detours, until finally arriving at an "Epilogue" which reveals a major plot point, and somehow inexplicably turns it into part of a happy ending tied up with a bow. The detours also don't explain the road we start on when Claudia is first narrating, unless I missed something. I'm just not clear on how a character can narrate actions in one way, only to have them be something else. And I'm being intentionally vague here so I don't give any spoilers. The reason given for the "something else" was all fine and good, but that reason wouldn't cover the early Claudia chapters. Also, loose ends---just one, but I'm unclear on Naomi's raison d'être. There were also long tedious passages that read like the author had attended a writing workshop focused on scenic description of the banal --who knew a TV antenna warranted so much prose? See also: wet socks.

Now, adding to the problems is the audiobook narration. A random chapter given over to a presumably male actor was weird and jarring after habituating Holly Adams's "male" voices. I found her voicing of Quinn to be very grating (and I know I'm not alone in this), and as others have noted, there was a very unique pronunciation of "masseuse" that was not French, nor was it even Franglish. That, however, was a very small issue. Also, Greta, described in the narration as having a "very slight accent" sounded like every stereotypical depiction of a Romani fortune teller since the dawn of depiction of fortune tellers.

I kept listening partially out of incredulity and morbid curiosity. The major plot twist was more like a restart, and the epilogue was cloying, and ultimately rather disturbing. I'm not sure I could come away liking a single character in the story, with maybe the exception of Scott, but everyone seems to have a pretty broken moral compass. I've read reviews that say many of the author's other books are better and I will be happy to try another because I did get a sense that she has some good ideas and writes vivid characters (even if they all wind up rather unlikeable). I'm also going to read the next one in print, because I feel the issues with the audiobook tarnished the experience. But it was a freebie on Audible, so...I'm not sad I tried it!

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2024 #42: A Morbid Taste for Bones - Brother Cadfael #1 (Peters)

 

A Morbid Taste for Bones by Ellis Peters
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Given that I'm generally a fan of monastic medieval mysteries, I'm not sure why it has taken me this long to finally read Cadfael! Perhaps I was unduly biased against Derek Jacobi's rarely smiling face in the promotions for the TV series in the 90s. My mother pushed me toward Peter Tremayne's (aka Peter Ellis -- now THAT's confusing/strange) Sister Fidelma series, which I love, but somehow did not seem interested in Cadfael. I'm going to guess renegade Celtic nun beat out male Crusader-turned-monk in my mother's hierarchy of protagonists/sleuths.

I adored it--the audiobook, narrated by Patrick Tull, was wonderful in picking up the subtle wit of Cadfael's thoughts and generally didn't feel it necessarily to inject gendered artifice into the voicings, relying more upon character differentiation. Many of the characters were surprisingly loveable -- including the good-natured and impish Brother John, and Father Huw--the parish priest at Gwytherin. I also appreciated that it was four chapters before anyone died (it is a mystery, so that's not a spoiler!) It did make it a bit predictable as to who would be the victim, but it was refreshing to have so much character building first. I might quibble with the end -- a bit too much effort to ensure we get closure on the various subplots, but it is a small quibble. The pro-Welsh quips and writing of scenic detail more than make up for it. I'm excited to read the rest of the series (finally!)

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2024 #41: A Gentleman in Moscow (Towles)

 

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

If you told me that I would come to love a 462-page novel about an aristocrat held under house arrest in a luxury hotel in Moscow, I probably would have been skeptical at best -- visions of Eloise with a "touch" of Solzhenitzyn? How strange. But given the wide variety of personalities belonging to the myriad friends who recommended this book, I finally dug in courtesy of my local public library network.

I was charmed by Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov, who has been in exile in Paris, only to be arrested upon his return to the mother country after the Bolshevik revolution. It is the arrest that starts the narrative, and Towles artfully employs flashbacks to fill in the backstory of the Count. According to Wikipedia, the formal structure of the novel is what we might call arch form in music -- the time intervals between each chapter double until we reach sixteen years later, and then it reverses, with the time intervals halving (16, 8, 4, etc...) until the final day. I will confess I did not notice this, nor have I confirmed it (having returned the book to the library), but if it is true, it is just one more delightful aspect of this subtle and enthralling book.

Yes, indeed -- perhaps subtly enthralling might be a better description. A few chapters in I was healthily invested, marveling that there were so many pages to go and yet very little had happened. But then we meet Nina, and Towles writes one of the most wonderful relationships between adult and child I've ever read. We don't need third person narration to see what happens to the Count. And what is so wonderful is that this is not a cliché tale of a child warming the stone-cold heart of the cantankerous adult. The Count is seemingly a constant model of affability and good cheer, taking his (relative) misfortune in stride, finding comfort in routine, books, food, wine and the ordinary miracles of the everyday. The relationship reminded me of one of my other favorite books (The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery), although Nina is far less precocious than Paloma , and the Count has social graces absent from Barbery's genius-in-disguise, Renée Michel.

While 98% of the novel takes place in the hotel, we see the Metropol as few do, courtesy of a "borrowed" key and later, as the Count takes up a job in the hotel. Without resorting to maudlin sentimentality, there are some significant shifts in the plot that other writers might lean into, but Towles casts both the dramatic and the mundane through the eyes of the Count, who remains even-keeled and debonaire, but NOT--and this important--NOT aloof. That's what makes him such a wonderful character. He is invested in loving what (and whom) there is to love. By the time we get to the "intrigue" of Book Five, we are already on board with wherever Towles wants to take us -- a planning meeting with the head chef Emile and the maître d' Andrey, or a meetup with the actress Anna Urbanova, or a game of "Zut" with Sofia--and we barely notice the shift into a different genre!

This book is, in short, a piece of art. It deserves to be read even by those who don't think they will enjoy it. Yes, it is literary--allusions and references abound -- to Russian literature, world history, and the movie Casablanca. It is not plot-driven until the last part of the book, but instead an opportunity to read beautifully rendered characters--even the antagonist (such as he is) is entertaining seen through the Count's general bemusement (and occasional amusement). Unlike other books garnering a five star review from me, this wasn't a book I "couldn't put down" but more of a book I "had to pick back up." I only read a few pages at a time (largely because I read before bed and I'm middle-aged), but I always looked forward to tuning in the next night. I was disappointed to say goodbye to the Count, but also pleasantly sated--a rare feeling with books these days.


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2024 #40 A Court of Thorns and Roses (Maas)

 

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Definitely an entertaining ride, with some interesting world-building. I found myself enjoying the evil characters the most, or at least the "good" ones who had an edge to their personality (like Lucien and Alis, and even Night Court guy*). Feyre reminds me a bit of Lyra from Pullman's His Dark Materials series, but her pendulum swinging between totally trusting and ferociously suspicious started to wear me down.

Some of it felt a bit cliché, capitalizing on well-worn tropes of snobby sisters**, high fae and various curses. Tamlin's curse was WAY too specific and seemed to function as a scapegoat for the plot. I got tired of the reliance on glamours. And while I know the genre has its fans of the bodice-ripping passionate scenes, that's really not my thing. Particularly when they walk a VERY fine line when it comes to consent. 

I was mildly annoyed at the naming of the puka/pooka (audiobook, sorry) --- that's what you call a cute furry animal, not an evil thing.

I am glad I checked it out because I have so many friends who really loved it. I might even check out the next in the series because there are certain characters I'd love to see again. Ikeda's reading was quite solid and engaging.

*Disadvantage of the audiobook --- I have to look up spellings. Unfortunately, when I looked up Feyre, I got a major spoiler (although it became obvious before it actuallyhappens in the narrative), so I am not looking up how to spell "Reese/Rhys?" Hence, Night Court guy.

**Yes, I know that one takes an interesting turn, but I was so annoyed by her character I didn't care by the time we got there.

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2024 #39 The Night Watchman (Erdrich)

 

The Night Watchman by Louise Erdrich
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

1953 was the real-life year of the U.S. Congress passing House concurrent resolution 108 and therefore establishing the federal policy known as "termination", which sought to abolish tribes and relocate American Indians (the start of a series of proceedings held from 1953- 1970). Primarily through the story of the titular character, Thomas Washashk (based on the life and activism of Erdrich's grandfather, Patrick Gourneau), and Patrice (Pixie) Paranteau, the novel revisits the mid-century tension of a people long dispossessed and disenfranchised caught in a no-man's land of ambiguously defined citizenry and capitalist manipulation. Thomas, who serves on the tribal council of the Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa, and works as a night watchman at the jewel bearing plant, reflects an optimism and ethic of tenacity, perseverance and patience. Patrice, a recent high-school graduate, on the other hand, has youthful energy and occasional impulsiveness, but is also the sole provider for family that includes her alcoholic father, her mother, and her brother. She, with her friends Valentine and Doris, works at the jewel bearing plant as well. Her older sister, Vera, moved to Minneapolis, but has not been heard from in months, so Patrice sets off on a brief, but Campbellian, hero's journey, which opens her eyes to savagery from which she has been relatively sheltered on the reservation.

Somehow, Erdrich manages to mix historical account, a coming-of-age-story, and an intriguing story through a rich cast of humanized characters -- from the Mormon missionaries to the Washington senators. Most of the characters are multi-dimensional and fairly well developed, but the pace of the story (stories, really) moves in fits and starts and occasionally we lose track of some threads in deference to others. Everything does come back together by the close of the book, although I found myself disquieted by the relative neatness of the ending (I won't say "happy"). There's more to tell, that we know, and it is perhaps the challenge of historical fiction: good characters will make us want to have a larger slice of the historical narrative, especially when that narrative is perpetuated into our own time. This is an important book that attempts to zoom in on the lived experiences of a whole host of characters in order to illuminate the hardship and mistreatment of a government toward its indigenous peoples--the task is not an easy one. The latter goal occasionally gets submerged under the former, but this is a good problem to have because if nothing else, the characters keep us turning the page for all their foibles, their propensity for chaos, their passions, and their search for meaning.

Louise Erdrich's reading is very beautiful, full of tender and sensitive intonation and wisdom behind each word.

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2024 #38 Rest is Resistance (Hersey)

 

Rest Is Resistance: A Manifesto by Tricia Hersey
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

It is necessary to take Hersey at her word that this is a manifesto. That can help clear out the discomfort of the lack of structure and repetition--at least a bit. The message is crucial and important, but a how-to book it is not. And that feels a bit frustrating at times. We know what we need more of: love, care, therapy, dreams, DreamSpace, naps, etc (from the list on p. 124). She gives us examples of what "resting can look like": meditation, slow dancing with yourself, not immediately responding to texts and emails". She suggests we begin by detoxing from social media, work on our trauma-informed boundaries, listen more...All of that seems do-able, but does NOT seem to be the ultimate goal of the manifesto. Resistance against and liberation from white capitalist grind culture is crucial, we understand. She clearly says "The time is up for any shallow wellness work that doesn't speak about dismantling the systems that are making us unwell. We must blame and interrogate the systems. They are the problem." (133) That message is repeated over and over again with passion and drive.

What's missing is how our choosing to stand for rest will perhaps impact those who are not empowered or are without agency to do the same. As a privileged white woman, I read her words carefully and thought about how grind culture disproportionately impacts Black women. I thought about how I might be upholding capitalism's reliance upon white supremacist models. But I am forced to wonder what happens when I say NO. Perhaps it is my role to say NO differently, or to different things, than the Black women who are reading the book. But what about the collateral damage? I'm not talking about losing my job--I'm talking about labor. Is it not an act of (white) privilege to decide to "rest" when there is so much work to be done to dismantle the very systems she cites? It is hard to believe that my "no" won't create labor for someone else--possibly someone already disenfranchised by capitalist systems.

Hersey extolls the value of sacred community. And certainly it echoes the proverb "If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together." But when she said "Individualism is leading us to the path of exhaustion and death," even though I know what she meant, I wanted more discussion of what "individualism" means there. Creativity, which she honors, could be argued to be very much tied to a concept of "individual." And I'm not looking to parse every word. I want to "stand in the gaps for each other" (189) and "be relentless in [my] support and witness" (189) and I didn't come away from reading the book with the strongest sense of how best to do that. I believe that rest will come in to play, yes, but I was struggling with how to reconcile that with activism.

This is an important message, and despite my struggles with the delivery, it is sitting with me. I'm looking for the best way to "spiritually disconnect from the shenanigans of grind culture while physically still living in it" (136). I think it is incumbent upon those of us with privilege to hear her message and think about how we strengthen and support "rest as a reimagined way of life" (136).

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2024 #37 The Outlaw's Tale - Sister Frevisse #3 (Frazer)

 

The Outlaw's Tale by Margaret Frazer
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The third installment of Margaret Frazer's Sister Frevisse series, The Outlaw's Tale is the best of the first three. This is my first time going to an audiobook for a volume in the series, and the experience was overwhelmingly positive. Susan Duerden's reading is excellent, and her voicings make the characters come alive.

Particularly striking in this book are the female characters who, very much beholden to their time, still manage a subtle defiance that flies under the radar. Frazer* doesn't resort to a clichéd feminist who is self-righteous and outspoken (not that it is a problem, but it gets tiresome as a trope), but instead illuminates what must have been much more common behavior in the Middle Ages and Renaissance. After all, when faced with a sword, even the most strong-willed might step aside if not equally armed. (
*Frazer = sadly deceased Gail Frazer with Mary Monica Pulver/aka Monica Ferris)

Sister Emma grates on our nerves and I did find dragging out her illness to be a bit tedious, but the audiobook really brought out the subtle and dry wit that accompanies much of Dame Frevisse's inner thoughts, particularly in regard to Emma. After the last book being VERY obsessed with the sickness that had taken over the convent, I was not enthused about a constant return to Sister Emma's "rheume."

There are some wonderful descriptions, including that of Dame Frevisse's uncle who has a "look about him that he belongs where he was." For whatever reason, the audiobook seemed to highlight these particular moments of character definition and description, and it is delightful.

Dame Frevisse has more opportunity for character development here because she's away from the convent, and she becomes embroiled (embroils herself, really) in a situation involving her cousin. There is a lot of self-reflection in regard to the choices she makes and that helps give her more dimensionality than was revealed in the previous two books.

I'm more excited to continue the series than I was, and I hope that the rest of the series continues with the same level of character definition and plot complexity. Unlike book 2, The Servant's Tale, which had so many characters it was hard to stay focused, this story does a much better job of focusing on a few key characters, with a good pacing of introduction to new ones, and actually threw me off the scent of whodunnit, so brava!

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2024 #36: Orphan X (Hurwitz) - Orphan X #1

 

Orphan X by Gregg Andrew Hurwitz
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I bought this on a whim (and also because I was looking for a book title that had the letter X), and, well, it was good fun. Evan Smoak is a bit of James Bond meets Jack Bauer/Jack Reacher, and the book sets up what hopefully is a riveting set of thrillers. Smoak has the requisite mysterious past, and Hurwitz gives us just enough to be sated for the time being, but knowing that we will need to know more soon (and the end of the book helps with that).

Not surprisingly, the thriller is quite violent, bordering sometimes on the edge of gratuitous description, but there's a lot of substance too, particularly in the dynamic nature of the "cat and mouse" scenario(s). Hurwitz keeps us on our toes in terms of characters too--who is to be trusted? Even Evan seems to have trouble deciding. A young character, Peter, and some sundry members of the Homeowner's Association, bring some levity and charm to the cast, with an occasional outright chuckle. Evan himself is at his most endearing as he attempts to navigate the vagaries of human sociability. And yeah, there are gadgets and guns galore, if that's your thing.

Scott Brick does a great job with the voicing, although I much preferred Candy McClure and Mia Hall to the other woman whose name I've already forgotten because I found "her" voice so cloying. But overall, a great ride for the genre, and I'm likely to continue the series because sometimes that level of escapism is what's needed.

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2024 #35 Peace, Love, and Fibre (Smith)

 

Peace, Love and Fibre: Over 100 Fibre-Rich Recipes for the Whole Family by Mairlyn Smith
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Mairlyn Smith, who has recently gained traction for her #FartWalk initiative (yes, you read that right) making the rounds on social media, is a professional Home Economist and former member of the Second City Comedy Troupe. Her winsome personality, that shines through in her videos, is no less present in the text of this cookbook. More than just recipes, Smith offers a practical (and humorous) way to incorporate more fiber in your diet. She warns that an increase in fiber needs to be gradual, coupled with an increase (usually) in water intake.

She weighs in on sugar and salt too, reminding us that table salt is not such a bad thing when you look at iodine needs. Ultimately, she offers a gameplan for the "Big Picture" by offering 10 healthy habits (that range from diet, exercise, to emotional well-being), and suggests picking one a month. After 10 months, you can perhaps find two good habits of your own devising, and you'll have a year's journey toward a healthy lifestyle. And no, I'm not sharing which habit I'm starting with.

There's a pragmatism behind Smith's advice that makes it seem achievable and her joie de vivre leaps off the page, whether it is her prose, or a photo of one of her prized teacups.

Since it is a cookbook, I've done my standard "3 recipes before reviewing" practice, although I have to say it is really 2.5 in this case. I used her "Potato & Asparagus Salad with Basil & Arugula Pesto" as a base recipe to use up some frozen Fennel frond pesto (from Hetty McKinnon), so I can't comment on the pesto in the recipe. The salad itself, however, was terrifically easy to put together (steaming baby potatoes is a great option rather than boiling), and it seems like it would adapt to most green pestos.

Next I made the "Chorizo, Brown Rice, and Lentils" and wow...this was terrific. High quality chorizo from a local butcher and Rancho Gordo's French-Style Green Lentils shone through and the spices were beautiful. While not light, it was surprisingly not as heavy as you might think--which was good since for some reason I felt like August was a good time to make it. I'll be returning to it in the fall!

And then "Traditional Overnight Oats for the Steel-Cut Purists"--I'm new to the concept of cooking overnight oats the next morning (which absolutely makes sense with steel-cut rather than rolled oats), and once again Smith's practicality comes into play -- after a couple 1 minute cycles in the microwave, the concoction sits for 15 minutes while "you run around getting ready for your day."

Each recipe comes with truly helpful and informative nutrition data per serving (newsflash: overnight oats have a lot of calories!), including fat breakdown, cholesterol, sodium, sugars, protein, potassium, and of course... fiber! If you are looking to make healthy changes to your diet and life, Smith offers some really sage (and fun) advice in this book.

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(Crossposted to Lady of Shallots)

2024 #34 High Conflict (Ripley)

 

High Conflict: Why We Get Trapped and How We Get Out by Amanda Ripley
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I read this book because I'm going to be facilitating a conversation about it at work, and I found it far more interesting than I imagined. Ripley offers a variety of case studies: an attorney-turned-mediator, a gang member, a Colombian guerilla fighter, a rabbi and his congregation...and a lot more. Through excellent storytelling, Ripley weaves together these stories to both explain "high conflict" and offers great counsel for how to move out of it, and perhaps even avoid it. But the point that resonated the most for me is her discussion of "good conflict"--something that sometimes gets lost in a lot of conversations about peace and mediation. Curiosity is key. But we have to make the space to allow for curiosity. Also a key point about the conflict-industrial complex: "To keep conflict healthy in an adversarial world, the encounters can't end... But keeping the conversation going in a huge challenge in a country where people increasingly live, date, and marry in their own political tribes. As in any segregated society, encounters won't happen naturally." (273). I would have liked more about managing the sustainability of this process.

So, it takes work. The book offers many resources about how to do that work, but Ripley's main focus is how to identify high conflict in the first place. There are some major tips for preventing it as well: investigating the "understory", reducing binaries, marginalizing "firestarters", buying time and making space, and "complicating the narrative." It is this last one that I think is seldom talked about as part of reducing binaries. There is value in complexity, it turns out--sometimes we call it nuance--but actively seeking out the complexity can help us foster good conflict, instead of high conflict.

Ripley's writing is accessibly human, but backed up with research and journalistic insight. She seems to practice the humility necessary for good conflict, even in the way she approaches this topic. She shares the stories of people with care and consideration for multiple truths and lived experiences. This is an EXCELLENT book for a group read of folks who work together, but really most people could benefit from considering a thoughtful approach to conflict (rather than conflict avoidance, or firestarting, as polar extremes).

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2024 #33: Mrs. Death Misses Death (Godden)

 

Mrs Death Misses Death by Salena Godden
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

There is a reason I characterize this as both poetry and fiction. I'll borrow from Sara Collins who described the work this way in her review in The Guardian:
The effect is to produce a collage of speech and speechlessness, a story that sometimes slips away from you even while you are reading it, becoming a memento mori in form as well as content. In other words, it’s exactly the sort of thing you expect when a poet writes a novel, and exactly the sort of thing you’ll devour if you like huge helpings of experimentation with your fiction..

Experimental, yes. I occasionally subject myself to the whimsy of algorithms and the title was captivating, so I bought it as an audiobook without reading anything about it. I had assumed it was going to be a cutesy mystery of some sort, but evidently the algorithms were feeling my one reading of Virginia Woolf's To The Lighthouse more than my plentiful cozy mysteries. From the outset, it is fairly clear this is not a standard novel. Godden is fond of litany as a poetic form, and I felt relieved I was hearing her read it, rather than reading the litanies in print myself. This is a book where it is very much an advantage to hear Godden's reading because she illuminates her own poetry in a way that few might receive it on the page.

To be fair to the algorithmic gods, it does remind me of Woolf's To the Lighthouse as there is only a modicum of actual, traditional "plot" and it is more about musings on death, and even more so, life. We don't get a tidy explanation for Wolf Willeford's mental state vis-a-vis their conversations with Mrs. Death, so the latter straddles allegorical figure and actual character. One might argue drawing conclusions about that aren't very important, but I suspect most readers will find themselves curious, although no doubt carried along by the talking desk and sessions with the therapist. There is plenty of biting social commentary, and the moments of wit pop out of a fabric that is woven from some very dark and dense cloth.

Quote: "Since you were here and sh*t, you might as well give a sh*t."

There was one sentence that I wanted to be the end of the book:
"It's a very simple question that life asks: will you walk with me?"

Godden doesn't end it there, and one can see why, but even after reading the "diary entries" that follow, it was that line that stayed with me the most. It is a helpful question--hopeful, even. But I cannot wholesale give this book a description of "hopeful." It is a longform poem (mostly) that digs into questions of gender and existence in a fresh way that is both alarming and familiar.

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2024 #32 The Good Daughter - The Good Daughter #1 (Slaughter)

 

The Good Daughter by Karin Slaughter
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A really good example of the genre, The Good Daughter has all the right pieces in terms of characterization and secrets. The plot stalls in a few places in service of lengthy dialogue between characters (some of the characters don't say much to each other, but when they do, it is several pages of dialogue).
There are some moments I found predictable, some secrets obvious to the reader before they are obvious to the characters. That said, there are some surprises too, and Slaughter paces these really well. The two sisters, Samantha and Charlie, are well-crafted in character and there are several characters who really trigger ambivalence, something I actually like.
Content warning as there is graphic description of sexual assault, and murder, but that's not unexpected for the genre.
The book also rests on some stereotypes of rural life, but is relatively gentle in its condemnation, painting with a medium width brush, let's say, assigning the worst to specific characters.

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2024 #31 The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (Shaffer/Barrows)

 

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is a charming little book. There are moments where it reaches beyond charming, but the depth is so momentary that it hard to hold on to it. I found myself wanting more from Juliet and her voyage of discovery, particularly when it came to Elizabeth. The various inhabitants of Guernsey are colorful and fun, although some of the characters felt a tad overwritten in some cases (e.g. Adelaide). I liked the epistolary mode more than I thought I would, and the length of the letters is well-considered.

The subtext is important, however. Narratives from war are always important, and Guernsey provides a glimpse (sadly, only that) into the many dimensions and complications of being occupied and occupying. Included too are the more well-known horrors of WWII, but we have hardly a moment to process that before we are back to the lighthearted eccentricities of the Literary Society. The uneven-ness made me feel as thought I couldn't quite commit emotionally to the story. Juliet herself is also partially to blame for that -- she is clearly clever, smart, and has great ability for compassion and empathy, but her behavior toward two of the male characters grated on me. All that said, this is a lovely beach read, with moments of pathos and moments of laughter, and it is delightful if not particularly robust.

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2024 #30 Writings on Contemporary Notation: An Annotated Bibliography

 

Writings on contemporary music notation: An annotated bibliography by Gerald Warfield
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I know that in-print bibliographies seem dated, and they are, but there's a certain pleasure in combing through them that just isn't equalled by using a contemporary database. Thanks to the Internet Archive, I was able to review Warfield's annotated bibliography which, at the very least, provides a fairly accurate snapshot of the state of research on notation in the 1970s. This was a heady time, with Kurt Stone and others initiating the Index of New Musical Notation project in 1971, and a significant conference on notation in Ghent in 1974. The typescript is frustrating in all the expected ways--the occasional typo, the taxing-to-read font, etc, but it is a valiant effort to at least include some European sources on notation (in French, German, Polish, Swedish, Dutch, Belgian) with annotations that were rather helpful in paring down what might be useful for my own research. Frustrating of course, were the items that were unavailable to Warfield (and his team) for review--some of which remain elusive (if not obsolete) today. The "mimeograph" items aren't connected to archives, so the bibliography is NOT helpful in terms of hunting down these things (often conference proceedings).

I was trained by an "old-school" (ethno)musicologist to value bibliographies. In grad school we spent HOURS looking at über-bibliographies and hunting down sources in the library, making notecards for each source (this was before Zotero was a thing, but you might be surprised to know the Internet was well into use by this time, haha). But there's something valuable about this enterprise, and combing through Warfield's bibliography reminded me of it. There's a human-to-human transfer that says "this is important" or "this might be of interest." There's a different impetus to sit and read through a bibliography that to type in a series of different search strings in hopes that you find what you are looking for. When you read this type of bibliography, you find things you didn't know you were looking for. And that, as far as I'm concerned, is the joy of research for research's sake.

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2024 #29 Kill Season - Jake Cashen #2 (James)

 

Kill Season by Declan James
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

As I mentioned in my review of the first of the Jake Cashen series, I'm so impressed with Alexander Cendese's reading, that it is enough that I'm sticking with the series via audiobook. James wisely refrains from building too much upon the first book, so there are no spoilers, but there are light references--nice for those reading the series, but vague enough to entice readers to hit up Murder in the Hollows if they haven't already.
Wrestling does not take a front seat here, thankfully, but hunting does, so those who do not approve of hunting in any form are likely to want to pass on this one. There's a lot of testosterone that gets thrown around in this series, but my favorite character is actually Sheriff Landry, who is a great character and she is beautifully voiced by Cendese. In this particular book I found myself losing patience for hearing the killer's thoughts, but at the end it does help make us more convinced of the killer's mental state. I was less than thrilled with Jake's treatment of "Birdie" (Erica), the younger sister of his friend Ben--he was patronizing at best--so the insinuation at the end of the book does not make me look forward to seeing her character in the next book.
As a mystery it works well---James sets up the typical red herrings and didn't rest on the gambit he used in the first book. With Cendese's reading, the book is more of a 3.5 for me, and I'm looking forward to Bones of Echo Lake.

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2024 #28 To The Lighthouse (Woolf)

 

To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This was my first Woolf, and I struggled a bit, but I think that was partially due to the audiobook format. Written in 1927, the story centers on the Ramsay family, with a particular focus on the perspectives and thoughts of Mrs. Ramsay--at least in the first part of the book, which is set prior to the war at a vacation house in the Hebrides. The title, "To the Lighthouse" serves as a metaphor of sorts, but does actually describe the trajectory of the "plot" from prior to the war, during the war, and after. The plot, much like a post-Impressionist/abstract painting by Lily Briscoe, the Ramsay's houseguest, is more of an echo from the amalgamation of mundane activities that cover up the inner tempests and struggles of the characters. When little James Ramsay wants to go the lighthouse, an approaching storm sends his parents into a philosophical and gendered struggle which lets the reader know right away that this is not a plot-driven book.

Nicole Kidman provides a fine reading, with a certain passivity that channels the Victorian sensibilities that are an ever-present undercurrent in the book and are perhaps to blame for the Ramsay's inability to truly communicate with each other. I think I would have enjoyed it more in print, and may read it later on in that format. That said, Woolf's language was poetry and Kidman's fluid reading really brought that out. I try not to read too much about a book before I read the actual book, because I feel it biases whatever relationship I'm going to establish with the book. So while I did not know what to expect, and I can't say I'd like to listen to a lot of books with this same approach, Woolf's writing and insights (and occasional razor-sharp wit) were enough to pull me through to the end.

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2024 #27 This is Ragtime (Waldo)

This Is Ragtime by Terry Waldo
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

CW: Offensive racial language quoted in song titles/genres

This is a fascinating book that is as relevant now as it was in its original release in 1974. Written for a more general audience, rather than an academic one, the book serves as a Who's Who in Ragtime from its beginnings in the nineteenth century through the 1970s (and the 2009 Jazz at Lincoln Center Library Edition adds some additional names and info), as well as an excellent primer on the genre/style. The JALC edition also has some beautifully digitized images of sheet music, that do not come without their share of problems in terms of context, as I will come back to. Also valuable is the discography and bibliography (although in need of an update).

The language reflects norms of the 1970s, so it would be nice to see any further updates consider paying attention to some of that, although I acknowledge it might be that in another twenty years those norms may change again. Waldo doesn't do much to engage with his own positionality as a white man, but he certainly has the professional and experiential credentials to write about Ragtime. The discussion of minstrelsy is fairly objective, and he hints at ideas of internalized racism and respectability politics without naming them. There are some "question mark" moments, particularly in regard to his discussion of the sheet music. For example, p. 22 reproduces sheet music for Ernest Hogan's "All Coons Look Alike to Me" with a strange caption: "This song actually has innocent lyrics and is not a typical "coon" song" with no further explanation until p.100-102 when he modestly clarifies: "...this song, which had very innocent lyrics, for its title alone became a symbol for racism and haunted [Hogan] for the rest of his life." It would have been good to see the actual lyrics, which are only innocent in the context of a Black man in the 1890s writing about being discarded for another man by Lucy Janey Stubbles. While it would have been beyond the scope of the book (and probably the time) to engage in a discussion of ownership of derogatory names (and Waldo does try to explain that "coon songs" became a much more egregious genre), one omission is any discussion of the "art" on the sheet music. The sheet music for this song, in particular, makes use of racial caricature, similar to that used by the Nazis for their publicity surrounding "Entartete Musik" ("degenerate" music), which Waldo does not mention in his otherwise ample discussion of the racial stereotypes and caricatures perpetuated in minstrelsy. Several of the color plates included in the book feature these caricature depictions--notably Harry von Tilzer's "Moving Day" on p. 92. Given the role of sheet music in marketing these songs, it seemed like a missed opportunity to mention the impact of the graphics in perpetuating ideas--even just of plantation nostalgia. In retrospect, it is hard to see any of it as "innocent."

As the book progresses, Waldo relies more upon anecdotal recollections of living performers, which is not a bad thing, but comes with it a responsibility to edit and frame. Six pages are given over to lengthy quotation from conversations with trumpeter Lu Watters (1911 - 1989) which felt better suited to an oral history project, particularly when they veered further afield from actually discussing Ragtime.

The information about Joplin's opera Treemonisha does a good job of mostly objectively explaining the sticky political mess of its copyright and initial productions, and unfortunately the "Introduction to the paperback edition" (1991) was just before University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign mounted a production. There's no update given to what happens with the rights/royalties, which was in litigation as in 1976.

The book does suffer from some copyediting errors, including a rather significant typesetting issue with some musical examples, one that seems to have persisted through the three editions.

Waldo does present ample perspectives about performing Ragtime, although seems not to want to commit too strongly to parsing Ragtime from Jazz (although he does just that in many instances). The recollections from Joshua Rifkin stand in to represent the "academic" perspective (not that it is at all singular), and the subtext here is that "legitimacy" and "authenticity" are moving targets, depending on who is trying to defend what. Waldo notes: "So on a personal level, we all bring the bias of our particular disciplines to the music, we begin to categorize and nail it down in terms of what we already know" (223). This observation at the end of the 1974 edition lends a lot of value to the book as a whole, and helps keep the recollections in check in terms of documentary value. While the book is dated and deserves an update, it is a solid starting point for anyone interested in learning more about Ragtime.

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2024 #26 The Department of Rare Books and Special Collections (Jurczyk)

 

The Department of Rare Books and Special Collections by Eva Jurczyk
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I picked this up on a whim because I figured it would appeal to my librarian alter ego. While the "Mystery of the Missing Manuscript" might not appeal to everyone, anybody who has any experience with the politics and personalities of academia will find something to enjoy here. Jurczyk writes with a dry humor that befits her protagonist, Liesl. Liesl is an interesting character -- full of inner desires and hopes, but moves through her life with a wry smile and grudging utilitarian tolerance for the fools (all men) she must suffer to keep her job. There is definitely a subtext here, but it is written with a complexity of character that lends the book an intricacy and intellectual heft. There is also a message about how well we know the people we work with--the assumptions we make, the choices as to how close to get...when one becomes a "friend" beyond a "colleague." It is a puzzling novel in that if you were to describe the basic plot to me, I probably wouldn't think it would go far, but Jurczyk does an admirable job of building dimensionality into the characterization and the plot so that the reader can't help but be interested.

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2024 #25: Looking for Spinoza (Damasio)

 

Looking for Spinoza: Joy, Sorrow, and the Feeling Brain by António Damásio
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I love genre-less books...or at least ones that don't fit neatly into one category. This book is chockfull of accessible neuroscience with helpful diagrams, but it is also a memoir of searching, of curiosity, of embracing the past to understand the present. Damasio makes a strong case that Spinoza was ahead of the game in terms of understanding feeling and emotion in terms of a body-mind connection, but this is no dry scientific work of Spinozan-apologetics. Damasio embraces humanistic inquiry, contextualizing Spinoza's work in a well-researched (and sometimes suprisingly enjoyably sentimental) study of his life. Anathematized from the Sephardic community in Amsterdam, Spinoza's identity during his life was well-known, but his ideas were sub rosa. The inverse was to be his legacy (257). With this study, Damasio contends that Spinoza was a "forerunner of modern biological thinking" (259) in a very important and specific way. He does not resort to hero-worship--Damasio is clear regarding where he think Spinoza misses the mark. But in this book, the result of his "quiet simmering of hints and reflections" (263-4)--one of the best descriptions of the historian's craft I've encountered--Damasio concludes the big takeaway from Spinoza is that "Science can be combined with the best of a humanist tradition to permit a new approach to human affairs and lead to human flourishing." (283). But he is more expansive yet, making the case that our brain, with all its mappings and homeostatic processes and endeavor for self-preservation, is crucial in carrying out Spinoza's "virtuous life in civitas" (274), and that ultimately, even in the face of all we see in the news, "there simply is no alternative to believing we can make a difference." (288)

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2024 #24 A Prayer for the Damned -- Sister Fidelma #17 (Tremayne)

 

A Prayer for the Damned by Peter Tremayne
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

People have gathered far and wide for a wedding in Cashel.
The story is fairly political at the outset--we learn about a group of Saxon brothers (Noavan, Berrihert, and Pecanum) seeking asylum and refugee status and Eadulf is asked to vouch for them. The main antagonist is Bishop Ultan, a misogynistic zealot who is very much against conhospitae and any other more progressive interpretations of Christianity. Most interesting is that we learn more about Fidelma's own views of her faith and choice to be a Sister. There are more elements of character development and intrigue than in some of the earlier installments of the series.

Tremayne also fills in details of medieval Celtic law that he has introduced in earlier volumes, such as the troscud, the ritual fast "to ensure the defendant accepts judgement." We are given details about the nuanced process--if the defendant agrees to settle and the plaintiff is notified and continues to fast, that forfeits the claim! These little legal details actual come to play an important part in the story. Funeral rites are also explained in detail as are cultural details tied to the Fenechus, the Brehon law system.

As Fidelma herself notes, it is an interesting case because there are so many suspects with a motive, at least for the first murder. That said, the actual culprit seemed a bit far-fetched for me and it relied upon a lot of information not revealed in the book. Still, definitely a good read and rewarding for those who are reading the entire series.

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2024 #23 The Servant's Tale - Dame Frevisse #2 (Frazer)

 

The Servant's Tale by Margaret Frazer
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

A good second installment in the Sister Frevisse series, probably more of a 3.5 or 3.75 for me. The servant, Meg, works for the nuns at St. Frideswide as a scullery maid. Her husband, the drunken Barnaby, is allegedly killed in an accident when his cart collides with a troupe of actors. Soon to follow are two more deaths, and the acting troupe is in the frame. Frazer highlights the social and class biases at play against the troupe and we get more character development of Sister Frevisse and the head of the convent, Domina Edith, as well as Dame Claire, the apothecary/medical person for the convent. I found the development slow, as many pages are given over to sitting around dead bodies, although this does prove important to the story. It is probably best read in just a few sittings to keep track of some of the smaller details, not all of which necessarily lean toward the "whodunnit" aspect, but provide a lovely and clever sense of connectivity. Motives seem weak for all possible suspects, and that is a bit frustrating as we don't learn the actual motive until the very end, which always seems a bit of a cop-out to me. There are not a lot of clues in this one--but plenty of deception.

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2024 #22 Eight Flavors: The Untold Story of American Cuisine (Lohman)

 

Cross-posted at Lady of Shallots 

Eight Flavors: The Untold Story of American Cuisine by Sarah Lohman
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The best food histories are just histories. Sarah Lohman captures a whole lot of history in narratives about eight flavors that she feels best define American cuisine: black pepper, vanilla, chili powder, curry powder, soy sauce, garlic, monosodium glutamate (MSG), and sriracha. I could feel my resistance when I read MSG, but it is worth quoting the book here:

Today there’s a double standard when it comes to the perception of MSG. If it’s in Chinese takeout, it’s called MSG, and it’s like poison. But when MSG is utilized by high-end American chefs and brands, it referred to as “Umami" and it’s celebrated as revolutionary. Although [Kikunae] Ikeda named this taste umami in 1907, the designation wasn’t accepted officially by the scientific community until 2000, when taste receptors on the tongue were specifically identified for glutamate. Umami became the fifth official taste, alongside sweet, salty, bitter, and sour.(193)

That was a bit of a mic drop moment for me because I had honestly never really made the connection. Although I've not lived in fear of MSG, I certainly grew up hearing about its various pros and cons (mostly cons). But I'm beginning to appreciate more and more how we fear "chemicals" by virtue of that nomenclature alone, never really considering that nature and chemistry are bedfellows a good portion of the time.

But the book is also a story of people--like the Chili Queens of San Antonio and William Gebhardt who used their chili con carne as the inspiration for his chili powder. Or the mysterious Ranji Smile and his role in popularizing curries in the U.S. Or how anti-Italian sentiments in the late 1930s made garlic vile in spaghetti, but a charm in Provençal/French cuisine. The story of David Tran, inventor of sriracha (inspired by a Thai sauce called Sriraja Panich, invented in 1949 by a woman named Ms. Thanom Chakkapak), was one of the most riveting, as Lohman narrates Tran's journey from Vietnam aboard a Panamanian freighter to Hong Kong, then to Boston (briefly), finally to California, birthplace and home of that blend of chili mash, garlic, sugar, and xantham gum that has become beloved sriracha.

Lohman writes conversationally and weaves together anecdotes and research in the best of ways. This is a great read for anyone who likes to cook or likes to eat (or at least care about what they eat). Lohman illuminates the narratives in our food, and carefully extracts specific flavors that deserve recognition instead of being smothered with the falsehood of the American "melting pot."



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2024 #21 Master of Souls - Sister Fidelma #16 (Tremayne)

 

Master of Souls by Peter Tremayne
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I do recommend NOT studying the list of principal characters too closely before reading the book, although I don't know that it really spoiled much for me. This volume picks up after the events in The Leper's Bell, and the series as a whole seems to have more continuity now. Unfortunately, my own read of The Leper's Bell was a good long time ago, so I probably should have reread it...it isn't totally necessary, but I would have had a stronger connection to some of the characters, such as Gannica. I'll leave off too much plot description because it could very easily lead to spoilers, but the political strife between the Uí Fidgente and Cashel continues, despite the fragile peace under Donennach.

On the whole, the character development continues to mature. Tremayne uses Fidelma and Eadulf to show varying perspectives on Christianity--Fidelma is tolerant of the old ways, making space for "finding God in his own way" (203) in deference to the proud Pagan Gáeth. Eadulf, on the other hand, has the fervor of a young convert, and tends to be judgmental and one-dimensional in his thinking (occasionally).

I was particularly interested in some continuity of what seemed to be minutiae. Tremayne revisits a chant "Regem regnum rogamus in nostris sermonibus" which is sung in two languages to a "Gallic" chant melody, and this same song also appears in The Monk who Vanished, supposedly composed by one Colmán moccu Clusaif/mac Uí Clusaim who helped his people during the threat of the Yellow Plague. I was unable to find an actual historical person by this name, but my guess is that there is a model here for Tremayne. These little details, however, keep me coming back for more. I've started a list of concordances that I may turn into a wiki at some point.

The copyediting and editing is still not great, however (some library patron took to the copy I read with a pencil, thankfully). We also get unnecessary repetition, such as when we are told "Eadulf, who knew something of the healing arts..." (193) when that has already been on display earlier in the book. There does seem to be a little less repetition of Fidelma's status as a dalaigh, qualified to the level of anruth, and when she can sit in the presence of a king, etc. etc within a single volume now, so that is an improvement.

The development was slow in this one, but things get moving rather quickly once Fidelma, Conrí, and Eadulf set sail for an island. The details regarding the scriptorium and copying are interesting, and there are some more colorful characters including Slébéne, chief of the Corco Duibhne. I'm very glad that Conrí, who we first meet in Badger's Moon, I believe, seems to have a returning presence in the series. He is one of the more complex characters in the narrative of the Uí Fidgente.

Overall a really good installment and I'll looking forward to learning more as the political intrigue is bound to return.


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2024 #20: The Land of Milk and Honey (Zhang)

 

Land of Milk and Honey by C Pam Zhang
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

What a very beautiful and disturbing book. It is not dystopic in a clichéd sort of way and the writing is poetry. It is memoir (fictional, yes, but memoir all the same). It is speculative fiction. Eunice Wong's reading is perfection, with just the right amount of gravitas with an equanimity that helps us understand (hear her talk about it here). What is sensuous in food and in life becomes ethically blurry when most of the world is overtaken by a smog of debatable origin and the protagonist, a former cook, goes to work for a mysterious employer on a mountain in Italy, above the smog (and above the rules of living below, it would seem). Privilege is redefined and reframed, disguised as innovation.

The imagery and descriptive writing is phenomenal. Zhang is deliberate in linking language across the story: the "calculus of loss" becomes the "connoisseurship of loss"--a subtle juxtaposition spaced several chapters apart, easy to miss. Metaphors abound: "...as I would not serve bitter greens without the consolation of oil, I began to keep back my less palatable feelings..." The insights, too, are plentiful: "Across the years it is hard to make out this version of myself, so blinkered by ambition that she sprinted through thirty years without asking, why?"

It was a slower "read" for me than I anticipated, but there is, forgive me, much to chew upon.

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2024 #19 The Witch Elm (French)

 

The Witch Elm by Tana French
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I think I came to this with unfair bias. My only previous experience with French's work was The Searcher, which I read in 2022, and I enjoyed. That is more of a traditional mystery, whereas this is more of a character study/novel (it does in fact say "a novel" on the front cover)? I also think I might have been better served by the print version as I found Paul Nugent's performance in the audiobook rather overwrought.

All that said, it doesn't help that the protagonist (and the vast majority of the characters) is just not that likeable. Toby is "always lucky" we are told, and he and his buddies, Sean and Declan, are hyper-masculine clichés, steeped in bro culture that is magnified in a seemingly endless scene at a pub between the three of them. Likewise, Toby's two closest cousins, Leon and Susannah, also don't have much going for them as characters. As read by Nugent, Leon is a whiny prat with a huge chip on his shoulder. In the case of this character, there is much in his backstory that makes him more sympathetic, but we don't get to any of that until much later in the book. The only two characters who seem to have any redeeming qualities are Uncle Hugo and Melissa (although I found Nugent's voicing of her to be absolutely cloying in places--California valley girl meets Irish damsel in distress).

As far as pacing goes, I feel that I must take responsibility for the fact that I was hoping for a more traditional mystery, and I was distracted in the first hour or so of listening because I kept trying to figure out a) why no one had died yet and b) who it was going to be. Well, someone does die, but it is actually a minor plot point by the time we start to understand that this book is an attempt to investigate the darkness of the human soul. There are a LOT of very lengthy trips down memory lane -- between the guys, between the cousins--not all of them necessary, lingering on boyish pranks and other foolish behavior. And LOTS of time sitting around getting drunk and wasted. I did end up appreciating what first seems to be Toby's luck coming to an end, as it was a well-crafted diversion (but not quite a diversion).

If you are looking for a more traditional whodunnit, this is not that. French's writing is descriptive and charged, enough for me to stick with it when I started to tire of everyone whining. Uncle Hugo's freelance work is interesting, and occasionally French peppers in some interesting historical tidbits and the like. A small point, but I was a bit surprised to hear Uncle Hugo quote Virgil as an example of the ancient *Greeks* believing that the witch elm stood at the gates of Hell. Splitting hairs, perhaps, but it was implied that Virgil was Greek.

I tried to evaluate it on its own merits rather than expectations I should not have had of the book. If you are a fan of French's mysteries, just understand that this is a very different creature. If you enjoy slow plots, psychological study, and an occasional plot twist, this might very well be a great book for you!

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2024 #18 Ysabel (Kay)

 

Ysabel by Guy Gavriel Kay
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This is honestly a 3.5, maybe 3.75 for me. There's a lot to like here, including the 15 year old protagonist, Ned. Ned's dad is a famous photographer, and while "on location" in Provence, he meets Kate, an unusually forthright teenage girl with an encyclopedic knowledge/interest in history. After they both meet a creepy and curious presence in a cathedral, things start to develop rather quickly. Both Kate and Ned are NOT overwritten and therefore a lot more likeable than most teenage protagonists.

The plot? Well that gets a bit tough to follow in places. There's concerted effort to anchor the story in Celtic and Roman lore, and while the information is helpful and authentic, it sometimes presents itself as boring pontification. The author does well with characters who are neither good nor evil, but instead straddle some sort of invisible moral line that operates outside the sphere of normal life.

The book ended too quickly for me. I could have used a little less of the repartée between everyone at the pool and a bit more time with certain characters: in particular Ned's mother and aunt, as well as his phenomenal uncle. While she is the title character, Ysabel does not get a whole lot of air time, and it is frustrating at the end when all is revealed with a nice neat bow. I needed a bit more of "why" and "how", and I certainly did not see any reason for Melanie's behavior. I get that she was "under-the-influence" (as was Kate), but it felt like a rushed attempt at suggesting a coming of age story for Ned--not needed. We never do get the whole story about Aunt Kim, and that ends up being a tad frustrating.

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2024 #17 Run (Patchett)

 

Run by Ann Patchett
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

While slow in places, this is a very beautiful book, reminiscent in ways of Agee's A Death in the Family--not in terms of the story, but in the way it reveals so many characters. I love that Patchett doesn't resort to chapters headed by the characters' names but just shifts seamlessly through the hearts and minds of the different family members.

Kenya will be on my list of all-time favorite characters. What a beautifully written young girl with an amazing spirit.

Also, so many layers of maternal onion! At the end, it all comes full circle. Without spoilers, it is managed in a way that normally I'd find trite, but instead I was in tears. Patchett often makes me cry. Her exploration of family dynamics is exceptional (see The Dutch House). I love that Run is about Kenya, but also about them all: running for office, Uncle Sullivan in the hospital telling Teddy to run, etc. There's also an undercurrent of the idea of penance, which in Patchett's hands transcends religion and seems to be part and parcel of our ability to participate in humanity.

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2024 #16 Klara and the Sun (Ishiguro)

 

Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

It means something when the most empathetic character is the non-human one. Klara, as an AF (artificial friend), is even more observant than most, and the lesson is pretty clear (almost from the outset) that if we humans don't observe, don't listen? Then we become rather incapable of empathy.
The book muses upon faith, hope, and love. Klara's faith in the sun is based in hope, but also pragmatic observation and an innocent sense of causation. Josie's mother is hopeful about love, yet lacks faith. Ricky, Josie's pragmatic and "unlifted" friend, perhaps has the strongest faith in Klara as he is able to assist her without really knowing why. Josie is the most human of characters in her determination and courage, but also in her code-switching and mercurial teenagery-ness. Josie's father is a skeptical engineer, but he too has to take a leap of faith in Klara, for the love of Josie.

Ishiguro does not give us all the details. The AFs get only a store as a backstory context. We know there are the lifted and the unlifted children, but we only see the ramifications of that status, not the details regarding how it happens. In this sense, Ricky is one of the most interesting characters in that he represents the folly of societal categories (one is reminded of Dr. Seuss's Sneetches with the stars, and those without stars), as he's clearly one of the most intelligent characters in the novel.

Another lesson from Klara --if only we were all be able to carry the images of our memories and recall them to inform our present understanding. We do, actually, of course, but Ishiguro paints the process slowly and truly through Klara, inviting us to think about our own intentionality and how often we dismiss or suppress our memories because we are not just mere data collectors, but data manipulators.

The ending pushed this away from five stars for me...it felt too much like a saccharine epilogue. We get an explanation of Klara's REAL lesson from the store manager and it all smacked a bit too much of a Care Bears animated special for my taste. I found myself frustrated that the manager herself doesn't get much of a backstory, but Ishiguro has a way of making you accept what he gives you, despite your own desires. In her New York Times Review in 2021, Radhika Jones gets it:

"'Still, when Klara says, "I have my memories to go through and place in the right order," it strikes the quintessential Ishiguro chord. So what if a machine says it? There's no narrative instinct more essential, or more human."

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