Remember when I wrote this about my September reading, that it “was heavy on the escape/light reading, mostly because I was trying to distract myself from pre-travel anxiety.”? That month’s reading, I noted, also included “a couple of books . . . that ask a bit more from readers — and repay richly,” and I went on to say “I’d pass any of the eight along to a friend, and that’s what you are, right? Let me know if you find something you like here — or something you’ve already read and liked or disliked. . . Always interesting to compare notes.”
That holds true for my October reading as well, not because of pre-travel anxiety, but because the travel itself was so busy and tiring. Now I’m home and gradually emerging from jet lag, catching up the entries I didn’t make in my Reading Journal. Turns out there’s not so much to catch up: three mystery novels in series I’ve told you about before; one excellent mystery/literary novel about immigrant life in Rome, written in Italian but also available in English; and one novel — domestic fiction about marriage and loss and rebuilding a life — in French.
I say this every book post now, for those who are new here and as a reminder to regular readers: As usual, the numbering comes from my annual handwritten reading journal, and the italicized text below is directly transcribed from that journal’s pages (once upon a time, I simply included photographs of those pages, but too many of you found my handwriting tough to decipher, especially in the photographed format). Notes to myself, that is, so that I can remember a book and remember my response to it, rather than any attempt at a more polished, edited review.
I’ve used regular font for any additions to my journal notes and included references to any posts from my Instagram Reading account (of which there were none last month — Yikes! Have to get back to posting there soon).
So, here goes, the books I read in October:
66. The Distant Dead. Lesley Thomson. Mystery novel; The Detective’s Daughter series; female detective.
I read this on the plane and during the first days in Italy, juggling with the Italian reading when I was too tired to make the language-crossing effort. In the eighth volume of this series, protagonist Stella and her romantic and detecting-business partner Jack are “taking a break.” Stella’s finding it too hard figuring out how she fits into Jack’s life now that he is the father of twins (fond though she and the twins are of each other), and she’s also stepped back from both her businesses.
But she finds herself nonetheless caught up in a mystery that involves the murder of a young single mother in WWII London. Someone knows that the real murderer was never brought to justice. . . and someone else is murdering to stop the truth from being revealed. . .
67. Many Rivers to Cross. Peter Robinson. Mystery novel; Police Procedural; Inspector Banks series.
I’d missed this when it was published a few years ago, the third-to-last Inspector Banks book.
A strong, resourceful, beautiful woman with an unusual talent for remembering faces, and a need not only for revenge but also to stop the damage caused to so many women by the men who kidnapped her into sex slavery as a teen-aged girl just aged out of an orphanage. She’s a friend of Banks — partnered romantically with his older friend, Ray. Banks wants to be a good friend to both, but he can’t help being attracted to Zelda . . . and he’s feeling lonely, slightly unmoored except for his work.
And a young refugee boy has been murdered, probably linked to illegal drug distribution which, in turn, is possibly connected to white-collar crime. Class division and gentrification. . . .
68. The Seagull. Ann Cleeves. Mystery; Police Procedural; Detective Chief Inspector Vera Stanhope series; Female detective.
Yikes! This was really a solid few weeks of reading mystery novels, wasn’t it?!
Another Vera mystery, and I’m intrigued to see her character develop, soften in some ways, broaden in others. She’s gathering wisdom, humanity — but she can still be very petty with her pet detective, Joe, strangely possessive of him, childishly competitive for his time against her rival, his wife.
Going forward, I’ll be curious to see if she maintains a relationship with the 30-something depressed single mother she ends up trying to help in this volume. We’ve seen her occasionally somewhat wistful about her single, childless state in earlier books, and while she resists responding too maternally to the younger woman, she makes some surprisingly helpful domestic interventions. Besides, Vera’s own domestic situation changes drastically towards the end of the book. No spoilers, but might be some big changes ahead.
69. Scontro di Civiltà per un ascensore a Piazza Vittoria. Amara Lakhous. Literary novel; Mystery; Read in Italian (Book available in English as Clash of Civilizations over an Elevator in Piazza Vittorio); Set in Rome; Immigrant life.
I read a chapter of this in an Italian class a couple of years ago, and then my daughter reminded me of it when her book club read it recently. Perfect timing — I downloaded a copy on my eBook to help keep my Italian revved up this last trip.
Set in an apartment building near Rome’s Piazza Vittoria; chapters are narrated by different building residents in turn — they’re mostly speaking to police who are investigating the murder of one of the inhabitants.
By turns comic and poignant, the narratives build a picture of the relationships between immigrants to Italy (both legal and illegal) and Italians by birth — these latter divided again by class or by North-South prejudices.
Reflections on language as a marker of class, as a key to acceptance — but also on the pre-conceptions it triggers and on the projections and screens that get in the way of communication. Reflections also on the trauma and on the hopes (and, often, subsequent despair) that bring refugees and immigrants to Italy.
First written by polyglot Lakhous in Arabic in 2001, then rewritten by him in Italian, that version published in 2006. Ann Goldstein subsequently translated it to English (published 2008).
Here’s a very good interview with Amara Lakhous, for those who’d like to learn more.
70. Le Parfum de bonheur est plus fort sous la pluie. Virginie Grimaldi. Domestic fiction; Marriage; Loss; Grief; Set in Bordeaux; My French reading.
Domestic fiction — about a 30-something woman who is unable to accept that her husband has left her, who refuses to ‘move on’ as all around her counsel. She moves back into her parents’ home with her young son and embarks on a series of letters to her husband, recounting the story of their meeting, courtship, marriage, and shared parenthood.
Meanwhile, readers learn of stresses in her relationship with her parents, sister, friends, even her workplace. Her mother pushes her into therapy; she begins to make progress in these other social areas, re-commits to friendships, even goes on a tentative date, feels the possibility of attraction.
But we begin to see that she’s stayed silent about a single traumatic event that she is using all her energy to repress — a huge grief that has formed a wall between herself and her husband.
Marriage, grief, loss, family dynamics (some great older women, matriarchs . . and generational trauma as well). Somehow felt like light reading as I began — perhaps because the French was surprisingly clear, easy to read, for me, but also because of the liberal use of humour and intrigue throughout — but treats a painful topic thoughtfully and convincingly. Unfortunately, I can’t see that this has been translated into English, although several of Grimaldi’s novels have been.
And that’s it for my October reading — shame on me, once again, for not posting it before today, November already more than halfway gone. But now that it’s posted, I hope we can have our usual monthly book chat, and you can tell me and other readers what you’ve had on your nightstands and on that little table next to your big armchair.
xo,
f
Since reading “Hello Beautiful” which you wrote about last month, I’ve read “The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane” by Lisa See which I found very interesting. Now I’m reading “Daughter of a Daughter of a Queen” by Sarah Bird. I’m not far enough in to decide how much I’ll enjoy it yet.
Author
Thanks for adding to our list, Elaine. I don’t remember ever reading anything by Lisa See, but wow! she has a long backlist, and I’m intrigued by the description of her book Snow Flower, having heard long ago about the secret women-invented writing that persisted in China for over a millenia, and wanting to know more. . .
Since getting back from our travels, I’ve liked Through a Glass Darkly and Suffer the Little Children, both by Donna Leon, Small Mercies by Dennis Lehane (so good), The Tattooist of Auschwitz by Heather Morris and A Woman of No Importance by Sonia Purnell. You may have already read these but I recommend them all.
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I’ve requested Small Mercies from the library, thanks, and will make note of the last two you mention (have read all the Donna Leon; can’t help wondering how many more we’ll have from her).
Your photo of books in the Institut du Monde Arabe made me think of a book in French by Belgian author Antoine Wauters about the war in Syria which my online French book group read last month. “Mahmoud ou la montée des eaux” won 3 major French literature prizes, among them the Prix Marguerite Duras. Most of the group found it profound and poetic. I also found it profound and poetic but couldn’t finish it because of graphic descriptions of torture by Assad’s régime. Antoine Wauters does seem an author to watch, however.
I’m very tempted by your “Parfum du bonheur…” with its Bordeaux setting.
Another French recommendation which I absolutely love is “Les impatients”, by Maria Pourchet. It’s a hilarious, ironic yet touching look at the world of the technocrat products of the grands écoles (of which Macron is one). Acutely well observed on how self-belief masks any number of flaws and professional weaknesses. I recognised for example from my two young adults’ complaints from having been on the receiving end the ruse of punting an unpalatable task which you yourself have no idea how to do onto a keen young subaltern who will do it for you – but you get all the credit. The humour is underpinned by the writing style, with a lot of use of zeugma and syllepsis. Highly recommended, not least for learning loads of current French expressions.
A funny Ann Cleeves story: when we were in Sweden in September we had a few conversations with a British/Swedish couple in a hotel we were staying in. We were talking about the Shetland Isles at one point, and because I’ve been there a few times I obviously came across as quite knowledgeable about it. All of a sudden the husband said, “Can I ask…you’re not Ann Cleeves, are you? You look like her and you know a lot about Shetland”. I had no clue what Ann Cleeves looks like, and having looked her up later I have to say I was quite offended. She’s 5 years older than me and has many more wrinkles! However perhaps if I had written all those murder mysteries I would have a few more wrinkles than I do…
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I’ll make note of Wauters as a writer to watch, particularly on the Arab world, but not at all sure I’m up to witnessing the descriptions of torture (although I do believe that such testimony, even in fictional form, is important, and witnessing is an important and meaningful act).
Cute anecdote about you being mistaken for Ann Cleeves. I occasionally get told I look like Margaret Atwood, who is considerably taller than I am, more than a decade older, and with much more prominent cheekbones. We do both have “strong” noses and ambitious curls. . .
“Ambitious curls” – what Bill Bryson calls “wilfully interesting hair”.
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Ha! Mine is very wilful indeed!
Oops, “grandes écoles”!
I’ve read Ann Cleeves,Inspector Banks books are on my list (someday) and I’m looking forward to read them (someday :)). Added your Italian and French book to my list as well
In my book,reading only mysteries during the whole month is legitimately ok indeed
But,nevertheless,I’ve read also:
Gabor Maté’s (with Daniel Maté)The Myth of Normal is a critique of how our society becomes toxic and abnormal, (and we might not see or feel it) causing diseases. Highly recommend, if one found the topic interesting.
As it was :),Jonathan Escoffery’s debut book If I Survive You,shortlisted for 2023 Booker is a kind of evidence of this theory. Eight interlinked short stories about a Jamaican family that moves to Miami. The first story ,where a main character is Trelawny,younger son,dealing with identity,race,issues with his father,while coming of age,is so powerful,”assaulted sense of self” as Kenneth Hardy would say
Jokha ALharthi’s Bitter Orange Tree was a sad story about life of a young woman,her past and present,roots in Oman (where ALharthi-winner of 2019. Man Booker International Prize for her book Celestial Bodies-was born and educated,as well as in UK), living in Britain.
And than,there were the mysteries:
Peter Grainger’s (love him!) Another Girl,
W.A.Craven’s Avison Fluke series, Born in a Burial Gown and Body Breaker,as well as his another short stories Cut Short.
Sara Blaedel’s Den Tavse Enke (I’ve read it in Croatian translation,couldn’t decide which one it could be in English)- I’ve ordered more of her books as well, liked this one, and describing life in another countries (Denmark here) is always a bonus
Angela Marson’s Dying Truth,the eight (I think) in Kim Stone series,very interesting one
Dottoressa
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Okay, I really must read Maté’s book, at least this latest one, and perhaps some of his backlist as well. Shameful that I haven’t yet, him being a local hero of international recognition.
I’ll also add If I Survive You and Bitter Orange Tree
The mysteries all look tempting as well. I’ve read some of Sara Blaedel’s Louise Rick and liked them. . . Thanks for your usual generous contribution to my overloaded book list! 😉
Hello, Frances! You always inspire me to read more and think about the book, author, and their backlist.
I’m going to try a Vera tale, and though Peter Robinson seems familiar (perhaps only via your mentioning him), I can’t place any books.
I too have gravitated to mystery/thriller/police procedurals, partly because they’re typically my one-night page count, partly because they’re most accessible on the library app, and mostly because I love ‘em.
William Kent Krueger’s latest is a literary novel (with a murder, culture clashes, romance, and captivating ‘50s details that you may enjoy.
Till next time, you vagabond charmer!
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Peter Robinson might be familiar to you as the author of the books on which are based the Inspector Banks TV series. . .
I’ve put The River We Remember on hold at my library, thank you!
Thanks also for the words that I could emblazon across my next t-shirt (if I wore t-shirts, which I seldom too anymore 😉 . . . Vagabond Charmer! love it!
(you know I love mysteries, detective novels, police procedurals as well (good ones, no tolerance for the poorly written or sloppily plotted) . . . adding to your reasons the way that the best ones have room to develop character and setting, and also to explore humanity, good and evil and what lies between, as well as thinking about hermeneutics without getting at all pedantic about it)
I never go on a trip without a book but often not much gets read. A good thing I think as I am absorbed in my travel experiences. This month was all book club selections. Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter, several years old. A tale of intricately woven characters over several decades. From an all but forgotten Tuscan village to Hollywood. The owner of a small hotel, a greedy movie producer, a starlet, liz Taylor and Richard Burton and many more people the narrative, a fun and satisfying read. Next was the Little French Bistro by Nina George, who is in fact herself German. I had read, and liked, her previous Little Paris Bookshop a while ago. A 60 year old woman from Germany decides on her trip to Paris with her husband that she is so unhappy with their relationship that will will drown herself to escape his emotional abuse. Naturally she does not succeed and ends up in Brittany, gets hired as a cook due to a misunderstanding and is transformed by the place and especially by the residents of the town. A warmhearted reading experience. Now finishing A Quilter’s Holiday, Jennifer Chiaverini. It is part of a series of books featuring the art of quilting and those who are involved in this art. It is not a book I might have chosen but there is comfort in it and I am not going to complain.
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Beautiful Ruins was one of those books I resisted for quite a while because everyone seemed to be carrying a copy. . . and then I succumbed and was surprised at how good it was (I wrote about it here).
The Little French Bistro sounds as if it could be a perfect comfort read, December armchair travel perhaps.
And as such, I will say that I heartily approve the attitude you express in your last sentence: “It is not a book I might have chosen but there is comfort in it and I am not going to complain.”