Category Archives: Fiction

Review: The Wednesday Sisters by Meg Waite Clayton

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When I saw The Wednesday Sisters on the “new in paperback” table at Barnes and Noble, I had to read the back cover. I did so, and took it home, along with about twelve other books.

In my defense – not that one needs to DEFEND book buying – I had spent almost an entire week writing about things like life insurance leads and how to save money on car insurance, and stuff like that, so I needed a lot of summer reading material.

I confess, I was hoping The Wednesday Sisters would be similar to The Jane Austen Book Club, but it was not, though both share, at their core, a story about close friendships among women.

Instead, Clayton’s book, which takes place in the late 1960s and early 1970s is a gentle story of personal growth and deep bonding, all tied in with the desire to write and publish ones own fiction – a desire I completely empathize with, since I am attempting the same.

The different women in the story were all well-drawn, with distinct voices, and while there was no snark, there were moments of real humor. Likewise, when one of the women begins dealing with breast cancer, there were moments of poignancy that would be difficult to match.

Was The Wednesday Sisters what I was expecting? No. Would I recommend it anyway? YES!

Review: A Circle of Souls by Preetham Grandhi

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A Circle of Souls
Preetham Grandhi
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When Preetham Grandhi contacted me via this blog, asking if I’d consider reviewing his new novel, A Circle of Souls, I immediately stopped surfing websites for Myrtle beach vacation rentals and jumped at the chance. I was in the mood for a thriller, I told him via email, and after reading the description of the story, I thought it was just the sort of book I would love.

I was not wrong.

A Circle of Souls opens with a young girl on her way home from school – she never arrives, and the search for her (and later her killer) are half the plot of the novel. Intertwined with the murder mystery, however, is another mystery: that of a little girl who is having very vivid dreams which may be causing her harm.

Set in a sleepy Connecticut town, and filled with characters like the child psychologist working with Naya (the girl with the dreams) and a female FBI agent, neither of whom are at all predictable or “stock” characters, this book grips you from the start, teasing you with a cozy afternoon before it really dives into the action.

Despite the fast pace of the novel, and some rather bloody descriptions, there is also a gentleness to this story that is both lyrical and somewhat reassuring.

One of the ways I judge the quality of a novel is how willing I am to put it down and resume a non-reading activity. This book kept me enthralled to the point where I could not sleep until I knew what had happened.

Book Review: Best Friends Forever by Jennifer Weiner

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Best Friends Forever
Jennifer Weiner
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When I saw Atria Book’s advertising their Galley Grab event on Twitter, I had to go pick some books. The arrived recently, and among them was Jennifer Weiner’s latest novel, Best Friends Forever. As with most of her books, I devoured it in the space of one or two afternoons and evenings.

Weiner, of course, has the talent of being able to give us a view of life as clear as if it had been recorded by one of the latest, greatest camcorders, but in this novel, the lens has a darker filter than her usual work. She’s grown from chick lit to serious fiction, and while the story is just as compelling as any of her others, the darker, more serious tone may be a bit jarring to someone expecting something like Good in Bed or In Her Shoes.

The story, as the title implies, is that of two friends. Val and Addie met in childhood, bonded, and then separated after high school, as often happens. When Val shows up at Addie’s door years later, bloodstained and shocky, how can she deny her best friend anything?

What follows is a sort of grown-up road trip, both physical and metaphysical, and at journey’s end, both women are more in touch with themselves and each other.

Review: Water Witches by Chris Bohjalian

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Water Witches
by Chris Bohjalian
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Anyone who has ever tried to lose weight can tell you that water is one of the best diet supplements. Anyone who knows me can tell you that water is my element, even though by birth I’m a fire sign. What can I say? Opposites attract.

It should come as no surprise, then, that when I saw a novel entitled Water Witches staring at me from the shelves at Barnes and Nobel, I HAD to take it home, and yet, I left it on my own shelves for months before cracking it open earlier this week.

What I found was a gently comic novel with a hint of fantasy, about dowsers in Vermont trying to fix a drought, while the protagonist of the novel, who was father, husband, and brother-in-law to these dowsing women, was working to aid a ski resort in gaining the proper permits to tap a local river in order to make snow.

As is to be expected in a novel about rural Vermont, there were colorful characters, cozy home scenes, and talk of maple syrup. What I did not expect, what surprised and delighted me, was the way the politics of environmentalism were worked in without the novel ever feeling preachy.

I don’t think I’m likely to pick up a divining rod and go searching for hidden springs under my front lawn, but I did, after reading this lovely little novel, spend a happy hour poking around the website for the American Society of Dowsers.

Review: Fluke, by Christopher Moore

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Fluke
by Christopher Moore
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Nothing makes you want to lose belly fat like a Christopher Moore novel about whales and swimming and Hawaii. This is both because his writing makes you want to be the one diving into the water, and because you will laugh so hard that any jiggling bits you may have will eventually become painful.

Fluke like many of Moore’s novels, is an adventure comedy. This one is about whale biology, and the main character is Nate Quinn, who turns around one day to see a whale with “Bite Me” painted on it’s tail. Or so he claims. Strangely, the frame of film with the proof is missing when the film is eventually developed, and he is greeted by a vandalized home and office upon he returns from his voyage.

As with all of Moore’s offerings, to elaborate would be to spoil the plot. Just know that Moore has managed to combine the study of humpback whales with enough laughter, sexual innuendo, and preposterous misadventure, and to do so in such a way that the reader can almost feel the ocean spray.

Read this novel poolside, or better yet, take it to the beach.

In Progress: Norwegian Wood, by Haruki Murakami

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Norwegian Wood
Harumi Murakami
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I’m about half-way through Norwegian Wood, by Haruki Murakami. I had the book on my wish list forever, and then finally bought after last summers writing conference, because so many people there were talking up Murakami. Honestly, I’m not impressed.

I mean, I don’t hate the book. The characters are well written, certainly the protagonist is every inch an unfocused college student, but I’m finding his story more frustrating than compelling, perhaps because I have no focus of my own right now.

Part of my negative response, I think, is that there’s about as much romance, even in the “romantic” scenes of this book as there are in lists of Ferrari parts. Actually, considering that the Ferrari bits eventually lead to a working Ferrari, the list is probably more compelling.

And that’s the problem. With this book, there’s no real, driving, plot. There’s no “there” there, and there’s no motivation to take the journey.

I’ll finish the book, because I’m trying to not buy new books (except dog training manuals) until I’ve finished my existing stack, but unless something changes drastically, I’m afraid I won’t be burning to read any more Murakami in the near future.

Review: Lulu in Marrakech, by Diane Johnson

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Lulu in Marrakech
Diane Johnson
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I had just finished re-reading The Eight. which had some lovely scenes set in Tangier, and wanted something similarly exotic. I was standing in Barnes and Noble, talking to my friend Deb on the phone, and I saw the lovely red cover with Lulu in Marrakech, across the center, and thought, “Ah, just what I was looking for!”

While I’ve read and enjoyed many of author Diane Johnson’s other novels, those involving an out-of-place American trying to navigate Parisian society, this novel seemed to be penned by a completely different woman. Sure the cover was pretty, and the concept – an American spy called Lulu is sent to Morocco to observe and report because she has a well-connected lover – was intriguing, but the book lived up to neither.

Instead of a bold heroine, Lulu (not her real name) was a meek, constrained, self-deprecating young woman, who wouldn’t even confront her lover when she suspected an affair. The supporting characters could have been cut from stock cloth, and while her observations of local life and culture were interesting, there was no sense of BEING in Morocco.

I don’t like to give bad reviews, and I always try to find something nice to say, but the best I can do about Lulu in Marrakech is this: it’s made me appreciate Johnson’s other works, like Le Divorce all the more.

Review: The Language of Bees, by Laurie R. King

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The Language of Bees
Laurie R. King
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In the latest installment of the Holmes and Russell series, The Language of Bees the bees Holmes is raising in Sussex serve as both metaphor and counterpoint to the action-packed mystery. One of his hives is swarming, something bees apparently do when they suspect their keeper is not returning, and Mary is left alone with that problem, as Holmes as followed their latest client into London.

The nature of this story makes it impossible to review without minor spoilers. The client is question Holmes’ son, we are told, from an affair he had with Irene Adler during the years in which he was supposed to be dead. The mystery: the location of this grown son’s wife and small daughter.

Obviously there are tramps across wet moors, nights spent in boltholes with amenities (or a lack thereof) that are a far cry from the scale of a Riviera hotel – in fact, over the entire series both Holmes and Mary Russell have spent an inordinate amount of time being wet, dirty, cold, or hungry – conditions I normally object to reading about, but don’t mind in these stories in the slightest.

There is also familial angst (what if Holmes’ son murdered is family, what if Holmes’ loyalty is to the son he barely knows rather than Mary?) and a wild aeroplane flight to enhance the mystery.

Sadly, while the mystery is solved, at the end of the novel we are confronted with three words that the author says were meant to offer hope of another story, but which I always find frustrating: To be continued.

Goes well with hot tea and scones or crumpets followed by a hot bubble bath.

Review: The Game, by Laurie R. King

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The Game
Laurie R. King
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When I first realized that The Game was the name of the seventh Holmes and Russell mystery, I thought it referred to a literal game. I knew it didn’t mean XBox, of course, since these novels take place in the twenties. Chess, I thought, might be the game that was…afoot.

I was wrong, and pleasantly so. The game in the title is a double entendre, referring both to the game of observation and spying, and on literal game (wild boar), or, make that a triple entendre, because it also refers to the roles people play when shifting among different social circles.

This novel sees Sherlock Holmes and wife/partner Mary Russell heading to India, where they are to locate one Kimball O’Hara, aka Rudyard Kipling’s Kim. I confess, I never read that Kipling story – though I’ve read others – and I wonder if I’d have appreciated this novel more if I had, but even without that background information, I quite enjoyed this adventure which had Holmes and Russell on a ship, a donkey cart and even, at the end an aeroplane.

As always, King has given us a rollicking good time, and Holmes’ voice rings true.

Review: Love and Biology at the Center of the Universe, by Jennie Shortridge

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Love and Biology at the Center of the Universe
Jennie Shortridge
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When I first picked up Love and Biology… at Half Price Books, I thought it would be exactly the kind of read I was looking for. After all, it’s about a woman who flees her troubled marriage and goes to work in a popular bakery/cafe in Seattle. “Oh,” I thought, “there will be rain and coffee and romance and she’ll find herself and be independent.”

Well there is rain, and coffee, and romance, but somehow this novel isn’t quite what I hoped. I mean – I don’t hate it, I just think the characters need depth. Mira Serafino, for example, is very much a stereotype of Italian-American women of a certain age (one older than my own), with a young daughter (young but grown – we’re beyond the age of acne treatments), a teaching position she doesn’t seem to particularly like, and a marriage in which she’s grown complacent, and her identity seems completely centered on home and hearth.

There’s nothing wrong with that, but I was hoping for something in the vein of Bread Alone and got something more like Francesca’s Kitchen.

So I did what I always do when a book doesn’t fit: I set it aside to re-read later. I picked it up again recently because I needed bathtub reading, and was able to get more into Mira’s story – and the coffee shop scenes are well written, but I can’t shake the feeling that this book could have been something more, or that I’m missing the point.