Books, Books, Books I Read in August. . .

As I explained in last month’s book post, going forward I will no longer be posting photos of my handwritten journal pages, but rather will transcribe those entries — pretty much verbatim — here. I’ll probably keep reminding you of this as justification for the decidedly unpolished prose and the brevity of my comments. What I’m posting are definitely not book reviews, but rather notes I keep for myself (to remember what and when I read, to quickly record my response) and am sharing with you as the starting-point for a monthly discussion about our reading and also as a potentially useful reading list for you to choose from when you’re looking for a book recommendation.

The italicized paragraphs come directly from the pages of my handwritten journal, and I’ve added additional comments, links, information in regular font below.

My August 2021 reading:

54. The Marco Effect, Jussi Adler-Olsen. Mystery; Police Procedural; Nordic Noir; Department Q Series; Set in Denmark

Detective Maerck is as cranky as ever. Side-kick Assad knows something about Maerck’s much disliked boss that he’s keeping to himself, and secretary/assistant Rose is as insubordinate as ever. Bureaucratic corruption in Africa (Danish tax dollars gone astray in supposed development projects). . . and a 15-year-old Roma boy on the run from his supposed clan but afraid of being captured as a non-citizen and deported. Read as e-book borrowed from library.

I wrote about the first two in this series in this 2015 post and about the third in this one from 2016. And then, apparently, forgot that there were more I planned to read.  I see now that I leap-frogged over the fourth and should probably go back to read The Purity of Vengeance before going on to read Volumes 6, 7, 8. . . . It’s a lively, well-written series with a range of well-developed characters, convincing and often inviting settings (although also often gritty), and a narrative arc that builds over the entire series.  I’m enjoying these — you might also!

55. The Weight of Ink, Rachel Kadish. literary fiction; historical fiction; Jewish history; academic mystery; London

Nearing retirement, history professor Helen Watt works with brash young American grad student Aaron Levy on a trove of 17th-century Anglo-Jewish correspondence whose scribe is discovered to be, surprisingly, female — bur more surprises await, although clock is ticking for Helen (health) and Aaron as another team of scholars is given access.

Parallel stories — Aaron’s and Helen’s in early 21st century; Helen’s love affair — renounced — of 40 years earlier in Israel; and the story of Ester in anti-semitic, plague-ridden Europe. A gripping narrative, strong characters, thought provoking. Read in trade paperback, borrowed from library.

Recommended! Don’t wait as long as I did to read this. Very satisfying. . . (When I posted about this on Instagram, other readers chimed in to say how much they’d enjoyed it.)

56. Northern Spy, Flynn Berry. Thriller; Northern Ireland; Sisters; Terrorism.

Two sisters embroiled in IRA intrigues in contemporary Belfast, despite twenty years elapsed since Good Friday Agreement. Inexorability of certain choices. Identity as mother, daughter, sister. As I’ve found before with Berry (see this post and this one), the narrative arc is not as developed as I’d like, particularly at the end, but I love her writing, especially her keen observations about women and their relationships. Paperback borrowed from library.

57. A Private Cathedral, James Lee Burke. Mystery; New Orleans; Dave Robicheaux series.

Dave Robicheaux and his big buddy Clete Purcel once again tackling crime and corruption in New Iberia. And again, these two struggle with their own demons (alcohol, a propensity for violence when angry at injustice) as they pit themselves against economic and political structures. Morality is in the foreground even more than usual as Burke gets metaphysical in his exploration of Evil.

Big question for me here. Burke is 84, but how old is Dave Robicheaux, ’cause he’s still pretty successful with the middle-aged beauties, and no indication Viagra is required!

Borrowed from library on impulse, seeing its shiny new cover on a shelf. . . 

Here’s what I said about this book on Instagram:  “So…@jamesleeburke was born in 1936, and he’s already written and had published another book (Another Kind Of Eden—I haven’t read it, yet…) since A Private Cathedral was published in 2020. And I can assure you, based on the 2/3 I’ve read of the latter, that octogenarians can write! Some big twists here for Dave Robicheaux fans . . . skews more Gothic, more horror— than I usually read, but Robicheaux stomps in New Orleans, so comes with the territory. As usual, Burke writes setting convincingly and evocatively, and he also gives us, in Dave Robicheaux and Clete Purcel, good men troubled by conscience, by the social and political culture and corruption and environmental damage they see everywhere, and struggling for a philosophy that might keep them from the bottle. It’s a formula that can wear thin, but not for me, so far, with this series.”

58. Heaven and Earth, Paolo Giordano. Trans. Anne Milano Appel. Literary fiction; Books in Translation; Italian writer; set in Puglia (and Iceland!); love story; coming-of-age; eco-fiction; eco-agriculture; religion/spirituality.

Set in Puglia, tells of a teen-aged girl from a well-off family in northern Italy who visits her grandmother’s Puglia estate each summer. One night she sees 3 boys from a neighbour’s farm — “the kids from the masseria” — swimming illicitly in her grandmother’s pool. And she’s hooked into their lives from that point on, at first only in the summer, but eventually she inherits her grandmother’s estate and leaves university to join the eco-agricultural project next door.

And yes, one of the boys becomes her lover, her love. Does she lose herself along the way? And then find herself again? There are secrets and passions and commitments in this novel, which is much more than a love story. Principles — friendship, eco-activism, idealism vs. pragmatism, religion (a cultish version of Christianity) and/or spirituality. . . 

Another book I impulsively borrowed after spotting the shiny new cover on the shelf at our nearby library branch and recognizing the author’s name from having read and enjoyed The Solitude of Prime Numbers back in 2016 (unfortunately, I never made time to review it, but did include in my year-end book round-up).

Highly recommended. I’d read this again, if only to visit Puglia (and Iceland!) in its pages. (and I said even more about it in my Instagram post).

59. Monogamy, Sue Miller. Literary fiction; American contemporary; Domestic fiction; Marriage; Aging; Women’s lives; Female artist.

Really enjoyed this one — photographer meets bookstore owner and they’re both smitten almost instantly. She (photographer) is reserved; he’s full of bonhomie. But together they become the centre of a circle of interesting, creative people as they raise their daughter, his son and include his ex-wife, as a good friend, in their life together. Homey, nurturing old house; she creates wonderful dinner parties, etc. etc. But readers learn before she does that he’s fallen into another affair, is feeling guilty and extricates himself. Then dies suddenly and we wait to see her learn about this, try to slot it into her review of their 30-year marriage. Watch her move through grief and anger and eventually forgiveness, acceptance.

Not completely happy with the ending which seems to have her accepting some culpability but overall, thoughtful about marriage, parenting, women’s lives. . . . Read on my iPad, borrowed from the library.

I posted a few pages I especially enjoyed on Instagram, and I also thought you might like this speculation by the deceased bookseller about why we read fiction. As his wife, Annie, remembers,

his argument about fiction. . . [is that] . . . we read fiction because it suggests that life has a shape, and we feel . . . consoled, I think he said, by that notion. Consoled to think that life isn’t just one damned thing after another. That it has sequence and consequence. . . . I think it was more or less the idea that fictional narrative made life seem to matter, that it pushed away the meaninglessness of death.

She’s recounting this argument to her friend, Edith, who holds a long silence and then asks, “And otherwise it doesn’t matter? Life doesn’t matter?”

Discussion ensues. You’ll have to read the book.

Where you’ll also come across this thoughtful, observant passage through ex-wife Frieda’s inner monologue as she returns from helping her son and daughter-in-law adjust to life with a new baby. They were grateful for her help, but made it clear it was time for her to go home, and

In the train on the way home, Frieda found a seat by the window on the right-hand side of the car. While they were still in the city, while the window was still showing the city’s rump side to the train as it sped by, Frieda read, looking out only intermittently. But when they began to pass the small towns in Connecticut that opened out to the ocean, she closed the book on her lap. She watched the water, the beautiful swaying grass. She was even aware that she had had exactly this consolation in mind when she chose her seat, and she was grateful now that she could feel it working.

This was how you did it, she thought. How you managed in life. And she had, hadn’t she? Right now, the conscious noticing of the sun over the beautiful sweeps of pale-gold spartina, over the dark sea, the faraway boats. These last days, holding the baby, singing to her. At home, the careful preparation of the meal for one. The ritual glass of wine. The slow making of music from the patterns of notes on the lined page.

All in the service of some sense of . . . what? Purpose, she supposed. Order.

Or loveliness. A sense of loveliness that made everything possible.

It’s pretty obvious I’m recommending this, isn’t it? I think many of you would enjoy it. Let me know if you read it, would you? Or if you have already?

60. Dove Mi Trovo, Jhumpa Lahiri. Literary fiction; Italian; Single woman.

I borrowed the English translation (translated from the Italian by Lahiri, published in ’21, 3 years after Dove Mi Trovo) to refer to for occasional help but managed the Italian fairly well although so much vocabulary I didn’t know (nor did I bother/need to look it up). 

She’s so removed, this woman, this protagonist (single, on her own, in an unnamed city where each short chapter places her in a different location or situation) — yet she apparently longs for connection. Flirts with it, sometimes literally, as with her regular, on-the-street meetings with her friend’s husband — she doesn’t seem to recognize what she’s doing, at first, but realizes, eventually. Also realizes how connected he is to his family life, his wife and kids.

She’s always on the edge, observing, although she doesn’t lack for friends who invite her for dinner or come to her home for the tranquility or give her keys to their country place. . . 

An only child, who lost her father just before a planned special trip to the theatre, her childhood notable for parental reserve and frugality.

Suffused with longing, but also somehow a celebration of her own reserve, conscious of the privilege of her solitude. . . And, of course it’s entirely possible that my entire first impression of the novel is distorted by my having read it in Italian and missing many of the connotations, mistaking the tone. 

When I wrote about reading the (original) Italian of Lahiri’s In Altre Parole in my June reading post, I linked back to my first reading — in Anne Goldstein’s English translation — of the memoir.

61. Bear, Marian Engel. literary fiction; Canadian fiction; feminist; post-colonial; wilderness setting.

First read this in late ’70s, prompted now to read by a Social Media post — surprised how well it’s stood up. Middle-aged, single archivist leaves city to catalogue the bequest (for the institution that employs her) of a Victorian house and contents on a fairly remote island in Northern Ontario. And embarks on a relationship with the resident pet bear that she seems to see as liberating for both of them. Definitely has been on banned-book lists over past 40 years although clearly tongue-in-cheek (okay, can’t resist, tongues in other places as well!). Themes of eco-criticism, settler colonialism, feminism, etc. Also epistemologies, particularly Eurocentric and patriarchal propensity for categorizing. Huge fun but also thoughtful, definitely provocative. And, of course, couldn’t be written today without figuring out some way to limit communication to 70’s technologies . . . 

I wrote a bit more about this once-scandalous Canadian novel in this post. Have you read it? Scandalized or amused or a bit of both?

62. The House with No Rooms. Lesley Thomson. Mystery; Female detective; Set in London; Detective’s Daughter series.

Another Jack and Stella mystery in the detective’s daughter series. Again, something that happened in the childhood of a friend is the clue to a recent (and also a much earlier) murder. Love these flawed characters and seeing them building new relationships, learning new social skills. Enjoying,l also, seeing other characters fleshed out. And walking through London with them, this time spending considerable time at Kew Botanic Gardens.

As always, I’m keen to share impressions of any of the books mentioned here, but also (ridiculously) always keen to add your recommendations to my To Be Read list. “Ridiculously,” of course, because the list is already so much longer than I can ever hope to complete in this lifetime. Imagine the alternative, though . . . what if we ran out of good books to read?! Quelle horreur! Che horrore!

18 Comments

  1. Dottoressa
    16 September 2021 / 7:11 am

    I want to read all of them!

    I’ve read The Marco Effect,love Yussi Adler Olsen books, there’s only a one or two that I dislike so far

    Still binge reading Reginald Hill

    New Louise Penny is ….I’ve googled a lot about people and events from the history and nowdays,can’t believe that it was real…

    I liked Ann Cleeves  The Heron’s Cry ,second in her new series,so yes,I love the new series indeed

    Than,there was Elif Shafak’s The Island of Missing Trees,a poignant,bitter sweet book about love between a Greek Cypriot and a Turkish Cypriot,about an island with it’s history,wars between neighbours,wounds and people who try to heal them,about good people and bad people,about sadness,feelings of loss incorporated in immigrants (and immigrant trees as well,-one of the main characters is an immigrant fig-Ficus carica!)….dedicated
    “To immigrants and exiles everywhere, the uprooted, the re-rooted, the rootless,
    And to the trees we left behind, rooted in our memories….”
    Sooo up to date in this moment
    Highly,highly recommend,it is a book standing by her 10 Minutes….and The Forty Rules of Love
    And, as Ficus carica was so interesting character indeed, I had to read The Secret Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben next.Fascinating!( you’ve read it a couple of years ago and it was waiting on my shelf for the right moment to come)

    The third book that was not a mystery,was Glennon Doyle’s Untamed . I haven’t heard about her before  although this title was popping in different recommendations,but I even didn’t read a review. So,an intimate memoir,activism (about Together Rising,”when a woman rises,she brings her people up with her”)self-help….well written,interesting….”we can do
    hard things”…book

    And about your last post: love your OOTDS,your style is individual,recognizable and I like it…though I could never wear jumpsuit AND a sweater…I’m not so quick and skilled…but you rock it

    Dottoressa

    • fsprout
      Author
      17 September 2021 / 9:03 am

      Oh, Dottoressa, you are responsible for the external and exponential expansion of my TBR list — you know you are! 😉
      I’m taking note of all of these, but I must order a copy of Elif Shafak’s The Island of Missing Trees. Each time I see it mentioned somewhere I tell myself that, but you make it imperative (another ;-))
      Thanks for the kind words re my style.
      p.s. I haven’t read The Secret Life of Trees yet, but I did write here about Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass which I think treats some similar material.

      • Dottoressa
        18 September 2021 / 7:00 am

        Mea culpa…but it is qui pro quo ;)!
        Thanks to you,Sue and comments on your blogs, I’m the hamster on a perpetual book wheel ! But enjoying and learning all the way….
        I was 100% sure that it was you with the trees…maybe someone else here (exactly,it was there ,MF Reads )on the blog?
        D.

  2. Susan
    16 September 2021 / 9:50 am

    Am in the midst of reading The Weight of Ink, gifted to me by my book loving daughter and enjoying the parallel tales of the young scribe and her modern interpreters. So well researched and written, it pulls you into their worlds. I will suggest The Pull of the Stars by Emma Donoghue as another well researched and interesting read set during the pandemic of 1918-1921. Many thanks for your book reviews and suggestions, I have had a year of wonderful reading thanks to you!

    • fsprout
      Author
      17 September 2021 / 9:05 am

      That’s a very good gift, and I’m so glad to know you’re enjoying it as much as I did.
      I will add The Pull of the Stars to my list — I’ve liked everything I’ve read by Donoghue so far.
      And you’re very welcome — thanks for letting me know these book posts are worthwhile.

  3. Georgia
    16 September 2021 / 11:34 am

    Sue Miller. I had forgotten. (I say this to you often, I know. Thank you for reminding me.)

    Monogamy has joined Bear on the library wait-list so we’ll see which one gets to me first. Scandalized? Who me? Never!

    I confess I returned Heaven and Earth to the library without finishing it. I skipped through the last half to see if I would re-engage, but no. (The relationship between those two characters, want and don’t-want. Ugh.) Paolo Giordano sets a great scene though.

    I saw somewhere on my travels that Ferrante’s The Lost Daughter (a favourite of mine, you might remember) is being (has been) made into a film. American/English cast. It is such an Italian story to me, I’m not sure how I feel.

    • fsprout
      Author
      17 September 2021 / 6:06 pm

      I’d forgotten Sue Miller as well and was reminded by a Parisian friend, an avid reader.
      I’m sorry about Heaven and Earth. Yes, that relationship was excruciating in places, and obviously toxic (toxicity and idealism went hand in hand, not just with that couple). But overall, I found so much to intrigue and move and entertain. A chacun son goût.
      I do remember how much you like The Lost Daughter (and I remember gratefully the post you contributed to on that novel among others by Ferrante.
      Your comment prompted me to see if I could find out anything about that film. I understand your reservations — and they’ve set the film in Greece rather than Italy! — but there are some impressive names connected with the production. Hmmmm. . .

  4. Eleonore
    17 September 2021 / 6:07 am

    I am a bit off mistery novels at the moment. One exception: “One Virgin too many” from the Marcus Didius Falco series by Linsey Davis. I enjoy the details of erveryday life in Ancient Rome. The same details, but of a bourgeois household in early 19th century England, gave me plasure at reading “Longbourn” by Jo Baker. Apart from these two, the books I read this summer were mostly in Italian. I tried to re-read “Cristo si e fernato a Eboli” by Carlo Levi, but as I knew it already, I did not summon the interest to finish it. Then I followed your suggestion and read Jhumpa Laheri’s “In altre parole” which I enjoyed very much. I found it fairly easy to understand (no dictionary required) and was impressed by some of her observations about feeling at home – or not – in places or languages. While in Puglia I started with some sociology reading about immigation into the area, followed by two novels. One of them (Catena Fiorella Galeano: “Cinque donne e un arancino”) rather shallow and badly written (even I could notice that), which I only finished because I considered it some kind of language practice. The other one (Daniela Raimondi: “La casa sull’argine”) did in fact captivate me. A family saga set on the banks of the river Po. Sadly, I was not able to finish it, I hope to do that next year. Back home, I am in the middle of the 3rd volume of the Ferrante series, while having also started Roberto Saviani’s “Gomorra”. But that is not the kind of thing you want to read before going to sleep…

    • fsprout
      Author
      17 September 2021 / 5:37 pm

      You’re reading is always ambitious. I’m so glad you got to Puglia — I have very fond memories of our week there, but at the time I had very little spoken Italian and certainly wasn’t trying to read it. You’ll certainly have “revved” yours back up. (Agree with you about Lahiri’s book and her observations about longing and belonging.)
      Also must agree that Gomorra would not be bedtime reading — that’s a very brave man!

  5. darby callahan
    17 September 2021 / 2:13 pm

    I loved the quotes about why we read fiction from the Sue Miller book. I must put this on my list.
    Actually, there are several which now want to read. I have a friend of 40 years who thinks reading fiction is a waste of time. She doesn’t say it that way but it is what she means. When I met her I did not read as much because my life was so hectic, kids, job, grad school, and being single as well. I think now we are friends because we have been together for so long, and we were there for each other when doing something physical for one another was needed, like picking one up from a medical procedure. We cannot talk about too much on a deeper level now. I think reading all sorts of stories gives you a broader view of the world, and makes us richer for it. When the pandemic necessitated the closure of libraries, to me it was the arguably the most distressing thing.
    I have also been keeping a record of books read, my responses to them. The most recent book I have read was ” A Murmur of Bees”, by Mexican author Sofia Segovia, translated from the Spanish by Simon Bruni. It is a rich saga of the Morales family , set against the background of both the Mexican revolution and the pandemic if 1918, which makes it relevant for today. The characters are interesting and nuanced, the writing is lyrical . There are elements of magic realism, which I have found in a few of the South American authors I have read. this may not make it a read for everyone, but I thought the book was at times heartbreaking and hopeful.

    • fsprout
      Author
      17 September 2021 / 5:45 pm

      I’m sure you can tell what I think about this, Darby. I, too, have people in my life who don’t read fiction and find it hard to see any value in it. Like you, I believe that viewing the world through someone else’s imagined vision broadens our sense of the world, helps us see from different perspectives.
      I started to write more about this, but realized I was in danger of embarking on an entire post ;-).
      Thanks for recommending A Murmur of Bees. It does indeed sound relevant — and enjoyable!

  6. Anonymous
    18 September 2021 / 3:43 pm

    Have you read Hamnet? I’m in the midst of reading it, and it is beautifully written.

    • fsprout
      Author
      19 September 2021 / 9:20 am

      I’ve got Hamnet on Hold at the library, but there’s a long waiting list! Meanwhile I finally got a copy of Maggie O’Farrell’s Instructions for a Heatwave and loved it. More on that next month. . .

  7. Carol
    20 September 2021 / 2:11 pm

    I’m starting “The Weight of Ink” – had it on my Kindle app forever, and can’t believe I haven’t gotten around to it, even though I’ve had several people recommend it.

    Really, just clicked to open it. 🙂

    • fsprout
      Author
      20 September 2021 / 4:06 pm

      I was the same, except that I hadn’t even bought a copy a year after a discerning reader recommended it to me. I can only argue that I was being mature in delaying my gratification.
      Pretty sure you will enjoy it!

      • Carol
        20 September 2021 / 6:18 pm

        Totally sucked in so far!

  8. Elaine O.
    21 September 2021 / 4:05 am

    I like these notes–they are your personal voice and remind me how to keep notes on books I read. I’d got out of the habit. And, sorry, but I found it a struggle reading pictures of handwritten pages, albeit worthwhile! Thanks for typing.

    • fsprout
      Author
      21 September 2021 / 9:14 pm

      Thanks for the feedback, Elaine — and I’m glad that you can see what I’m aiming at here, exactly as you say, just personal notes on books I’ve read. The notebook and the blog help me maintain the habit.

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