A Life, Lived

My Kind of Viking

The Windsor Knot; SJ Bennett

I haven't done a book review in ages. It isn't that I haven't been reading, I have . . . it is just I haven't had a lot of time to slow down and think. Today, with the attic being re-insulated, I have plenty of time to ponder.

A few months ago we were in St Mary's and I discovered a new book store had opened up. I make it a personal mission to support small, independent books stores. Paul reminds me that I do not need more books and I remind him of my mission. One of the books Betty (of Betty's Books) suggested was this mystery.

I finished it this morning after an enjoyable weekend spent lost in the pages.

The Windsor Knot by SJ Bennett is one of the most original mysteries you will find on the market today. Imagine if Dame Agatha Christie had written a mystery novel with the Queen of England acting as the primary sleuth instead of Miss Marple, and you will have some idea of the fun and games that are about to ensue.

It is April 2016. The Queen's 90th birthday is approaching. She is at Windsor for a series of events tied to her birthday. Soon the Obama's will be visiting the castle on their last visit to the UK in an official capacity.

The life of a monarch is heavily regimented, and murders are, shall we say, inconvenient. The case of the Russian pianist found strangled at the castle proves vexing.

Unfortunately, the so-called professionals handling the case bungle it pretty badly and initially place suspicion in the wrong direction. Now that the Queen has lost faith in them, she must see that justice is served and is willing to do so at the expense of her own investigatory experts, especially if they are trying to cover up something or potentially create an international incident as an impetus for justifying political war games.

Even though she is the Queen and head of the Royal Family, she is still a 90-year-old woman who easily can be underestimated in these matters. She relies heavily on her private secretary, Rozie Oshodi, to dig for clues or plant information at just the right time allowing the officials to 'solve' the case themselves without knowing that the Queen was there long before they were.

SJ Bennett gives Queen Elizabeth a voice that may not be recognizable at first. The story has enough twists, turns and red herrings to please any mystery buff and a list of potential suspects that rivals anything in the mystery or “cozy” genre. I cannot wait to see what our dear Queen will get involved with next!

 

Louise Penny - Kingdom of the Blind

My second 'Christmas' read.

Kingdom of the Blind is the 14th mystery in the Inspector Gamache series — and it’s a spellbinder. But such critical praise hardly matters anymore to this series. By now Louise Penny, deservedly, has built up such a large community of adoring readers that her novels belong to that most rarefied of literary categories: They are review-proof.

Like a slightly sinister holiday letter, Penny’s mysteries, which have been coming out regularly for over a decade, catch up readers on the latest news with Gamache’s unruffled wife, Reine-Marie, his more emotionally vulnerable protege and son-in-law, Jean-Guy Beauvoir, and his dear friends in Three Pines — particularly the overwhelming fan favorite, that mad, duck-toting poet, Ruth Zardo.

Penny’s insightful, well-plotted 14th novel featuring Chief Supt. Armand Gamache finds him on suspension from the Sûreté du Québec following events that unfolded in 2017’s Glass Houses. No matter the suspension, Gamache becomes embroiled in a murder case when he and psychologist-turned-bookseller Myrna Lander are enlisted to be executors for a stranger’s will, and one of the key beneficiaries winds up dead.

Over the course of the investigation, Penny offers intriguing commentary on the willful blindness that can keep people from acknowledging the secrets and lies in their own lives.

For long-time series fans, plenty of time is spent in the mystical village of Three Pines, and it’s refreshing to have a spotlight shine on Myrna, one of the most relatable of the village’s population.

A secondary plot involving a rogue shipment of opioids in Montreal comes to a satisfactory close.

Penny wraps up some continuing story lines and sends recurring characters in surprising directions in this solid installment.

The Temptation of Forgiveness

One of the many joys of the Christmas season is time. Our office shuts for two weeks and the daily flood of emails stop. I find that there are days on end where I have nothing at all to do - I own my time and get to determine what I will do with it. The other day I spent the entire day devouring the latest in the Commissario Brunetti series; reconnecting with a city I love for its unique fading grandeur and characters that I have come to appreciate over the years.

A Brunetti mystery, like Venice is never quite as it seems. Alleys lead to a dead end. A bridge over a canals ends in a wall. No sooner do you get the feeling that you are finally headed in the right direction but 30 seconds alter you are so badly turned around and you are lost. Things are never what they seem.

Yes, I'd read these books for the beautiful depiction of Venice alone but it is Leon's living, bleeding humanity of the characters that makes Donna Leon’s keeps me coming back. Tagging along after this sleuth is a wonderful way to see Venice like a native, especially since Leon takes care to give us precise directions for his routes. But Brunetti’s observations aren’t always pretty. The air pollution is beyond acceptable limits, and don’t even mention the pollution of the canals. Drugs are everywhere in the schools, even the private schools. Much of the “Venetian” glassware is made in China and the newspaper kiosks are full of junky trinkets. The once-bustling fruit and vegetable stalls of the outdoor markets are emptying out and half the fishmongers are gone. As Signora Crosera notes, “There’s nothing for Venetians to buy,” not when olive oil costs 15 euros for a half liter and the new shops are catering to tourists. “What Venetian wants a glass elephant or a plastic mask?”

The story starts with Brunetti being asked to investigate the leak of information from inside the Venetian Questura. But before Brunetti can begin his investigation, he is surprised by the appearance in his office of a friend of his wife’s, who is fearful that her son is using drugs. A few weeks later, Tullio Gasparini, the woman’s husband, is found unconscious with a serious head injury at the foot of a bridge, and Brunetti is drawn to pursue a possible connection to the boy’s behaviour. But the truth is not straightforward.

There is something joyful and comforting and bittersweet about reading the latest novel in a series from a favourite author. Such was the case with The Temptation of Forgiveness. I have read and loved all 26 of the previous novels in the series and a new Donna Leon novel is one of the highlights of my reading year. There is something welcoming and comforting about returning to characters you love. Then there is the bittersweet knowledge that once you’ve devoured it, there’s a long wait until the next one.

The characters are all as wonderfully drawn as ever. Brunetti seeks comfort in his family and his history books, reflecting that no matter how far the world has come there are still parallels to the past. His family adds to the story, Paola lending a humourous edge to the story, keeping Brunetti grounded as always. It is also always a pleasure to see more from his colleagues Vianello, Griffoni and the indomitable Signorina Elettra, whose conniving and often illegal ways, both impress and baffle Brunetti in equal measure.

The story itself was intriguing, driving the narrative along. As is the case with the other books in the series, the story is not one where the reader tries to guess the culprit, with red herrings and false leads strewn throughout. There aren’t big twists that can or can’t be anticipated. The reader finds out at the same time as Brunetti, clues and avenues that lead to the story’s conclusion.

I now have the long wait for the next Brunetti novel. I may just have to go back to the beginning and start the series again to pass that time away.

Get it?

Gutenberg's Apprentice

I picked this book up in the spring. I was traveling, went into an independent bookstore and you know my rule - I MUST buy something to support the independent book store. This was my purchase. The book came out in 2014 so I was a titch late to the party.

I am a huge fan of historical fiction and in particular Medieval fiction so I was quite excited to dig in.

The book, the debut novel of Alix Christie,  did not disappoint. This is a fascinating account of how Gutenberg's bible, which is thought by some to be the most beautiful book ever created, came into being. The author has carefully researched all the known facts and has used them to create a fictional account of what may have happened. This book works on two levels, both as an education for those, including myself, who knew little of the history of this historic book and as a highly entertaining historical story where the main characters really come to life.

Gutenberg himself is a genius, but a flawed genius who very nearly wrecks the whole project with his ill considered ventures. A hard task master, he is slow to praise but quick to find fault. Peter Schoeffer, scribe and initially reluctant apprentice to the Master is a man of faith who is eager to please both Gutenberg and Fust, his adoptive father and increasingly reluctant financier to the publishing venture. The structure of the book is that Schoeffer is relating the whole tale to Trithemius, a cleric and historian some thirty years after publication and so we see the whole saga from Peter's perspective.

This is one of the most enjoyable books that I have read for a long while and I thoroughly recommend it. Christie’s novel is a worthy tribute to the technological revolution it re­imagines, as well as a haunting elegy to the culture of print.

Summer Reads - the Charles Todd Mysteries

When I was in the classroom one of the many joys of the summer was catching up on my reading. I gather books year round but they'd pile up waiting for some time to dig deep into the pages. This is no longer such a dynamic now that I am in the office and can schedule vacation time whenever I want but there is still a pull to a more relaxed time in the summer months.

This mystery series came my way by accident  . . . I can't even remember how. In hindsight I have to wonder how I have missed them all of these years (the first book was published in 1998). The books have everything I love in a mystery novel - well written, historical, and there is more going on than just the actual mystery to solve. Yet somehow missed them I did (of course the problem is even greater given that there are other series by the same authors)

The series I am reading feature Ian Rutledge. Of course I started with one of the middle books and had to work back to the beginning to pick up the thread.

Picking up one of these post-World War I historical mysteries is like starting off on an uncertain journey. In each book, Inspector Ian Rutledge of Scotland Yard, a shellshocked veteran of the Great War, makes his solitary way to some provincial English town, ostensibly to assist the local constabulary with a baffling crime but also to bear witness to the incalculable devastation brought about by the fighting.

One of the odd things about the books is that they are written by two authors - a mother and son writing team. They don't even live in the same state yet somehow they are able to collaborate and write tightly crafted books which keep your mind engaged until the last page.

If you have been living under a rock like I apparently was and haven't read one of these I highly recommend them!

The Robert Galbraith Mysteries

Many authors dream of fame, fortune, and a vast readership. An author who has all three may dream, paradoxically, of the freedom to write without them — of publishing a book that can be judged only on the quality of the prose.

That was J.K. Rowling’s motivation in publishing “The Cuckoo’s Calling” under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith in 2013. The crime novel earned enthusiastic reviews, and some readers said it seemed too skillful to be the work of a rookie. She was outted by a tweet from the wife of a lawyer who's firm represented Rowling and apparently knew that Robert Galbraith was the author of Harry Potter fame (imagine the conversations at home in that house after the tweet was tweeted!)

Acting on the tweet  the Sunday Times of London, asked formally if “Robert Galbraith” was really the author of the Harry Potter series, Rowling fessed up. “I had hoped to keep this secret a little longer because being Robert Galbraith has been such a liberating experience,” she said. “It has been wonderful to publish without hype or expectation, and pure pleasure to get feedback under a different name.”

Would Rowling’s fiction be equally appealing by any other name? Despite the warm reviews, “The Cuckoo’s Calling” found only a few hundred buyers. Then Rowling’s cloak of invisibility came off — and a bestseller was born.

Because of the hype I purposefully ignored the The Cuckoo’s Calling because of this.A few weeks ago I received an e-mail with a coupon code for the e-book and thought 'what the heck?'

What the heck indeed!

I was amazed to find that it is a taut, well-written mystery that does a wonderful job of reviving an all-but-dead genre, the gumshoe detective style mastered by such giants as Hammett, Chandler, and Sayers. The characters are strikingly, efficiently drawn, the pacing neither too fast nor too slow, the leavening of real humor a pleasant surprise, and the mystery properly mysterious. The main characters -- from the victim (a supermodel named Lula -- called Cuckoo by her friends -- who is supposed to have committed suicide) to the detective and his temporary secretary-cum-sidekick, the characters show real complexity. Rarely do they behave according to type.

The negatives are few. On a couple of occasions I wanted to hit Strike over the head for not seeing something that I -- and most other readers, I assume -- could see plainly. I was also a bit annoyed when it became clear that he had solved the mystery -- but wouldn’t tell anyone. He spends the first two thirds of the book in a severe funk; his transformation as we head down the home stretch feels a bit forced. And while I loved the solution to the mystery, the psychology behind the crime -- and, even more so, to its aftermath -- still seems like a bit of a stretch to me.

Having enjoyed the first so much I immediately downloaded the second in the series which was published last month.

In The Silkworm, Strike is confronted with the petty rivalries and grand egos of a ‘‘fictional’’ London literary scene. Having published two difficult and obscene allegorical novels, troublesome author Owen Quine has gone AWOL and his wife Leonora and daughter Orlando would like Strike to bring him home.

The dowdy Leonora is concerned that Owen’s disappearance has something to do with the manuscript of his latest roman à clef featuring a cast of literary enemies in a scandalous allegory with the unappealing title Bombyx Mori. Quine’s last sighting was at a famous London restaurant having a very public row with his agent who has declared the book unpublishable.
Galbraith/Rowling is playing cryptic mind games with her readers. Bombyx Mori is the Latin moniker for the domesticated silk moth, which in its larvae stage is boiled to extract silk. The hapless silkworm, as a metaphor for the writer ‘‘who has to go through agonies to get the good stuff’’, thence burrows its way through the book, popping up in all sorts of places, including the epigrams that frame each chapter.

Contemporary London is very present, almost as a character,  in this book, from the Monday morning faces on the Tube, ‘‘sagging, gaunt, braced, resigned’’, to the bustling back streets of Soho and Covent Garden in all their rain-sodden, wintry gloom. In terms of cultural tourism, Cormoran Strike may therefore well do for Denmark Street what Holmes did for Baker Street, or what Harry Potter did for Kings Cross . . .

Much of the pleasure lies in the vivid description of fictional people and real places, as well as the subtly evolving relationship between the defensive Cormoran and his ‘‘secretary’’, the beautiful Robin, who is about to be married to the manipulative Matthew. Note the moment of self-revelation when Strike considers how Robin’s engagement functions as the means ‘‘by which a thin, persistent draught is blocked up, something that might, if allowed to flow untrammelled, start to seriously disturb his comfort’’.

As with the Cuckoo's Calling, The Silkworm brings to mind the crime fiction of another, more leisurely and more literary era. In her respect for the structure of the classic detective story, and her obvious delight in its multi-layered artifice, Galbraith – aka J.K. Rowling – is evidently re-creating her own golden age of crime.

The Silkworm is indeed a joy.

Flavia de Luce Novels

One of the happiest things in life is finding a new author who's writing you love . . . and then finding out that said author was written 8 books thereby providing you with weeks of enjoyment as you pour through them. I read somewhere prior to leaving for Amsterdam about a book that sounded interesting . . . The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie. This is the first mystery in a series by Canadian Alan Bradley and was published in 2009. . . . meaning I was a tad late to the party.

The Flavia de Luce books are considered cozy mysteries. But I suspectfew fans read them solely for the mysteries they contain. More likey they read them to get lost in Flavia's world. Flavia de Luce is a mere eleven year old girl growing up in the rural English countryside in the year 1951. She lives with her family in their dilapidated family estate of Buckshaw. While the de Luce family name is a revered one in England, their financial situation is reduced and the estate is going to ruin. Flavia's quirky family includes her two elder sisters Ophelia and Daphne, neither of whom she gets along with, and her very remote, very stiff-upper-lip father. Her mother, Harriet, is a hazy figure neither Flavia nor the reader get to meet, having disappeared in a tragic Himalayan climbing expedition while Flavia was just a toddler.

Being largely left to her own devices, Flavia discovers a chemistry lab in one of Buckshaw's numerous closed-up wings and commandeers it as her own. Her self-taught adventures in chemistry are a large part of her charm and humor and oftentimes lead her down paths she probably ought not go down. Each character - her sisters, her father, the two household servants who are really more like family, the townsfolk who populate the novels - is endowed with such endearing, funny, and quirky traits that it is nearly impossible not to fall in love with them.

Flavia is one of the most interesting characters I've found in fiction in some time.While Flavia exhibits many characteristics common to 11 year olds she also has some amazingly unique traits - she is a whiz at chemistry and adores her favourite chemical passion - poison.

Bradley had never set foot in England before he won his first mystery prize, but tales heard at the knee of his adventurous grandmother gave him his eye for the English countryside circa the 1950s. She must have had some amazing tales to tell for he writes about the time and place as if he had inhabited it personally.

If you, like me, am late to the Flavia de Luce 'party' here is the list of books int eh series - do read them in order though as there is a central plot arc that develops a wee bit more with each book.

1. The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (2009)
2. The Weed That Strings the Hangman's Bag (2010)
3. A Red Herring Without Mustard (2011)
4. I Am Half-Sick of Shadows (2011)
5. Speaking from Among the Bones (2013)
6. The Dead in Their Vaulted Arches (2014)

Hello Berlin

We arrived in Berlin a day ago after a seemingly never ending train ride from Amsterdam. Seriously, it was only 6 hours and we were in a first class car, but it just seemed to go on and on. I think that was my worst day for feeling sick with this cold so even an hour journey would have felt like 100!

By the time we got to Berlin I was in a blur. I do not really remember the arrival at all. We are staying at the Hotel Adina near Checkpoint Charlie and I LOVE it. The room is a huge suite - about 5 times the size of a normal European hotel room. I like the separate sleeping, living, eating, bathroom, and tiny kitchenette areas. I can't believe we got it for 85 euros a night . . . must have been an off-season deal.

Yesterday I was feeling 10000000 times better. After Nancy and I got our schedules synched via e-mail we met in the lobby and headed down to the Jewish Museum. It is located just south of the hotel in Berlin's vibrant Kreuzberg district. Built in 1999 and opened in 2001, it’s an attempt by architect Daniel Libeskind to express not only the horrors of the Holocaust, but also to examine the broader history of Jewish life and culture in Germany.The museum’s striking zinc clad structure, with its violent slashes for windows and unsettling zig-zag form, is intended to resemble a “dislocated” Star of David when viewed from above, readily indicates to visitors that they are not in for a comfortable experience.

The entrance to the museum is via an adjacent Baroque building, built in 1736, that originally housed the Prussian chamber court and later the City Museum. This all feels normal enough.

However, once you’ve passed the security check, things change quite dramatically. A steep black staircase descends into the heart of the main building, and what Libeskind describes as his ‘Trio of Axes’ – three lengthy, geometrically skewed corridors that crisscross to represent different aspects of the Jewish-German experience.

Along the Holocaust Axis, visitors pass a series of eerily lit display cases that showcase anti-Jewish Nazi propaganda, and personal mementos from those who either survived or were murdered in the Holocaust; an embroidered Star of David and phylacteries from Leo Sheuer, who spent 15 months hiding in a hole in the ground; letters between “Aimee and Jaguar”, two female resistance fighters and lovers who were separated by the Nazis and never saw see each other again.

At the end of this series of heartbreaking personal stories awaits the Holocaust Tower. Entered via a heavy metallic door, the tall, cold, strangely-angled structure is relieved only by a thin slit at the top that lets in a tiny amount of light and the muffled sounds of the outside world. I spent considerable time in there alone - it was amazing how the design evoked such powerful feelings - being separate, helpless, lost, hopeless, and fear.

At the end of the Axis of Emigration lies another disorienting experience; the Garden of Exile. This installation comprises 49 concrete columns that on first appearance look weirdly crooked, until you realise that the columns are in fact straight. It’s the ground that’s askew. This sudden perceptual shift causes a feeling of nausea that increases as you stroll in and around these towering, specifically built by Libeskind to provoke the alien, unnerving experience of exile.

The final Axis – the Axis of Continuity – winds its way through the rest of the building and, with the exception of the occasional deliberate dead-end (including one right at the top of the main stairs), thoughtfully-placed void, leaves behind the darker expressions of absence and disappearance to enter more familiar museum territory.

The broader story about the Jewish relationship with Germany comes almost as a relief, especially given the enjoyably innovative and varied nature of the exhibition. Spread over two vast floors, visitors find oil paintings, reproduced texts, films and touchscreen presentations, a coin minting machine, and lots of personal histories of the famous (Einstein, Rathenau, Liebermann) and the forgotten, such as the journal of Glikl bas Juda Leib, which gives rare insights into 17th century Jewish life for Jewish women.

We also learn of how anti-Semitism was a part of the Jewish-German relationship pretty much from the offset - at first based upon religious prejudices and later political/pseudo-scientific ones. Of course, the events leading up to the Holocaust are also covered, with further eruptions of the museum’s overarching themes of loss and absence.

It was an art instalation, Fallen Leaves (Shalekhet) by Menashe Kadishman, the cut the sharpest. When first viewed from above it looks like an interesting space with objects on the floor. When you focus on those objects you realize you are looking at faces with their mouths frozen open in a scream. These 10,000 open mouthed faces are coarsely cut  from heavy, circular iron plates cover the floor. The text panel in the museum said that this exhibition dedicates it to all innocent Jews victims of violent and war . Also the title “Fallen Leaves” raises suggestion both negative predestination and of hope for new life in the coming spring”

I had just got to the main exhibit when I started to receive e-mails from Nancy to say she was done and waiting. While she didn't intend for me to rush, she was content to enjoy a snack from the wonderful cafe and read her Berlin books, I suddenly felt pressure to get moving. In the end I missed a large number of exhibits meaning a return visit is required. I was also conscious of the time - it was close to 1:00 PM and our walking tour started from the Brandenburg Gate at 2:00 PM. We had no idea how long it would take to get there so we wanted plenty of time!

Off we went . . .

The tour we had booked was similar to the free tour we enjoyed in Amsterdam. In fact, it was offered by the same company and the tour concept originated in Berlin. The tour itself is free - at the end you pay the guide what you think he/she deserves based upon the tour.

Our guide was an American history grad who had been in the city for 6 years. There was an interesting contrast between the Amsterdam guide, who used history as entertainment, and our Berlin guide (George), who used history to inform and educate.

I won't go through the entire three hour tour because this would be the longest blog post EVER. I'll do separate posts on some of the things we saw and sites we visited. That being said, some of the highlights for me:

The Brandenburg Gate.

The Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe.

The unpaved, non-descript parking lot underneath which are the ruins of Hitler's bunker where he spent the last 4 months of the war and where he committed suicide as the Russians stormed into the city.

The Berlin Wall. At this point I am standing in the so-called 'death strip' in East Berlin. 25 years ago I would have been shot dead for standing here.

One of the many pieces of the wall used for art installations. I understand that they are whitewashed over (or whatever technique they use) and new art is painted on top on a regular basis.

The double brick line that runs throughout the city. It shows where the Berlin Wall once stood.

The famous Berlin street food - currywurst. A grilled sausage chopped up, covered with curry powder and curry ketchup. Sounds gross but actually tasted yummy - even better with a beer. :-)

Gendarmenmarkt - where the 'twin churches' are located and the concert hall. The beautiful square is where Berlin's main Christmas Market is held in December.

Bebelplatz where you'll find Humboldt University, one of Berlin’s most prestigious universities dating back to 1810. This is the location of the infamous 1933 Nazi book burnings. When you walk into the square you will see many people staring down at the ground but once you get closer you will see a sunken glass plate between the pavement that provides a view into a room full of empty bookshelves. The art work of the Israeli artist Micha Ullman is called “Library”. These empty bookshelves could accommodate about 20,000 books which represent the books which the Nazis burnt on May 10th, 1933 on this spot.

There was also a plaque which included a quote from Heinrich Heine written in the mid-18oos that had a chilling accuracy . . .

That was only a prelude, there
where they burn books,
they burn in the end people.

It was poignant to visit at twilight. In the centre of the square was a woman playing music on her violin that would have been burnt in the fires as it was composed by a Jew - I loved the quiet defiance of art over the ugliness of book burning. Also many of the rooms in Humbolt university which overlooked the square showed wall after wall filled with books.