Book Review: Hera

 By Jennifer Saint

• Pub Date: 2024

• Genre: Retold mythologies

• Where I bought this book: Roebling Books & Coffee, Covington, Ky. 

• Why I bought this book: I wanted to hear Hera's perspective 

• Bookmark used: Ordinary Equality / No new world order until woman are a part of it

******

    Hera always has been a goddess who's hard to pin down. In the pantheon, she seems to serve little purpose -- although she is the queen of the gods and the goddess of marriage, she maintains little control over her own. Her cheating husband -- and brother -- never treated her as an equal partner, despite their history of taking down the Titans together.

    Thus, Hera is always portrayed as unhappy, unliked, and unwanted. Like many of the gods, she is vain and vindictive, haughty and deceitful. Her role on Mount Olympus is ill-defined.

    And while this book sets out to define Hera, we can't help but see her as the same -- morose, vengeful, and superfluous. Near the end of the book, one of the immortals, Ekhidna, a primordial dragon, tells Hera she has let her husband and brother define her. 

 All you want is to outwit Zeus. With his nymphs, his girls, his bastard step children.

     I had hoped this book would help redefine Hera, but it didn't. Instead, it told familiar stories about Zeus' deceptions and cruelty, and Hera's envious and equally cruel reactions. Instead of helping us relate to Hera, it showed her as just another god who has little time for others.

Book Review: The Girl With the Louding Voice

 By Abi Daré

• Pub Date: 2020

• Genre: African Literature

• Where I bought this book: Lores Untold Books & Gifts, North Vernon, Ind. 

• Why I bought this book: I was on a tour of independent bookstores, and this one was in the owner's house, so I had to support it  

• Bookmark used: Ordinary Equality/Advocating for gender equality    

 *********  

    When we first meet Adunni in her small village in Western Africa, she is happy, idealistic, and striving to educate herself so she can realize her dream of becoming a teacher of other young children.

    But then her beloved mother dies, her father sells her as a child bride to a village elder, and she later becomes a house maid to a vicious business woman in the sprawling capital city of Lagos.

    Adunni doesn't like her lot, and while she tries to obey her elders, keep her mouth shut and do as she's told, she cannot help herself. She's determined. She's eager to learn, to listen, to read and write properly, and to speak with her "louding voice" -- one that will be heard.

    This is a daring novel, a devilish debut by a voice who rightfully demands to be heard. It opens up a world beyond our pale, as seen by one who has lived through its beauty and injustices.

    Adunni is our guide and our hope. She shows what's going on in her life and the world beyond as she experiences it. At 14, she's young and innocent, living a happy if hard life. Her mother is her hero and protector, and she learns and plays happily with her friends in her village. But there are signs of despair -- her father is often portrayed as an unhappy alcoholic, and her family life is simple but sometimes desperate. 

    The writing is exquisite. Adunni is a child, with a child's uneasy grasp of English as her second language -- her native tongue is Yoruba. The early chapters show what appears to be a different dialect, and she makes tactical errors that recur. But it's easy to read, and with we see her improvements as she struggle with words, tenses, and the idiosyncrasies of English.

    It's also bursting with emotions, as Adunni seeks to overcome her fears, find friends, and recognize kindred spirits. It's a coming-of-age story set in another country. As it tells Adunni's stories, it also helps us find love, understanding, and acceptance.

Book Review: The Weaver and the Witch Queen

 By Genevieve Gornichec

• Pub Date: 2023

• Genre: Magical Fiction, Historical Fantasy, Historical Fiction

• Where I bought this book: Barnes & Noble, Florence, Ky. 

• Why I bought this book: I enjoyed her debut novel

 *****

  

    Gornichec's second novel is not so much re-written mythology, but re-written -- or perhaps invented -- history. She calls it historical fantasy, inspired by medieval Icelandic sagas.

    And it's a decent book about those tribal times, when life was hard and bloody, cold and violent, and ruled by vicious and power hungry illusory kings.

    It's a decent read about Gunnhild, a young girl who doesn't admire the Viking lifestyle and who  dreams not of marriage and family, but adventure. She and two friends, sisters Oddny and Signy, take an oath to become blood sisters, intertwining their lives and futures.

    Gunnhild gets her early wish when a seeress/witch called Heid bids her to follow, and becomes her teacher and mentor. A decade later, Gunnhild strikes out on her own, a witch who still has a lot to learn.

    We don't see her training, but her life as she emerges and seeks to catch up with her blood sisters. The story is quite violent. The job and lifestyle of the Vikings and their leaders are to raid farmers and villagers, taking what they can, killing whoever tries to stops them. Gunnhild isn't sure how she fits in.

    Those Viking leaders -- from families of wealth from raiding -- hire more raiders, called the hird. They demand payoffs and loyalty from those who don't want to be raided and killed or enslaved, thus rising in the royal hierarchy to become  hersirs, jarls, princes, and kings. Sounds like a protection racket, but it happened all over Europe during these times.

    Gunnhild steps into this life, with her own wants and desires, friends and enemies. There's a lot of drama, backstabbing, and witchery. There's some romance, which comes with its own drama.

    So it's a nasty story, although it has some high points. It abounds with strong women and others who seek an alterative life. They guide and help each other, yet bicker and betray when it suits them. They pray to the gods and goddesses, who rarely play a major role in their story. 

    Bonuses include an Author's Note that explains her background and the foundations of Norse history. It includes a list of characters and terms, which are helpful in keeping track of who is who and what is what, and how people are related. I appreciated all those touches, and a map would have been nice.

    Overall, it's a well told tale. The writing is consistently strong. The action mostly moves along, although it tends to get bogged down in the drama and the romance.

    I suspect we haven't seen the last of Gornichec or her characters. Perhaps this will become a multi-part series, with more drama and romance and intrigue. Although I would prefer she go back to writing about the ancient gods and goddesses.

Book Review: Long Island

 By Colm Tóibín

• Pub Date: 2024

• Genre: Irish fiction

• Where I bought this book: The Book Loft, Columbus, Ohio 

• Why I bought this book: I'm a fan of Tóibín's work  

 ***

     The opening here sets up a memorable conflict: A man knocks on the door of his neighbor's house. Relates how her husband got his wife pregnant. When the child is born, he says, he is going to drop the kid on her doorstep, and it will be her problem. Then he leaves.

    Thus we return to the trials and tribulations of Eilis Fiorello, nee Lacey, an Irish woman from the County Wexford who emigrated to Brooklyn and now lives on Long Island with her husband Tony and their two teenage children. It's an uncomfortable arrangement. Tony's large Italian family -- parents, two brothers, their wives, and children -- live in four clustered houses on a cul-de-sac in Lindenhurst, some 50 miles from New York.

    So far, so good. The story is interesting; the characters -- especially the mother-in-law, Francesca -- are colorful, and the writing, so far, is tight and easy. 

    But midway through, things go off the rails.

    We first met Eilis in the novel Brooklyn. Saoirse Ronan played her in the movie of the same name. The dust jacket on this novel calls her Tóibín's "most compelling and unforgettable character."

    But she's not.

    Instead, she's a morose, secretive, lost woman trying to find her way in a world she doesn't care to understand. Now 40, and living during the 1970s, she assures one and all she does not want the baby, does not like her living arrangements, and does not enjoy her in-laws' claustrophobic lifestyles. The feelings are mutual (except grandma wants to raise the kid).

    Not to give away more of the plot, but eventually Eilis returns to her hometown for a visit. (I am sure in the eventual movie there will be montages of the town of Enniscorthy and the surrounding green fields, and it will be lovely.)

    Here, the plot really breaks down. None of the characters -- the ones in America or the ones in Ireland -- are particularly likeable. In many ways, they border on stereotypes: The Italians are insular and deceitful. The Irish are moody and critical. Their activities are mundane: Having tea, drinking in the pub, sneaking around the town.

    The writing also seems to decline here. Perhaps it's the characters' whinging, or their incessant gossiping. And we can see the ending coming, although by now we could care less about their lives and their futures.

Book Review: We Are the Brennans

 By Tracey Lange

• Pub Date: 2021

• Genre: Irish Fiction

• Where I bought obtained this book: A Little Free Library in the Wrigleyville section of Chicago 

• Why I bought  obtained this book: My mother was a Brennan from the drumlins and lakes of County Monaghan 

 ******

 

    Based on the blurbs on the novel's cover and comments from friends who have read it, I was thinking I may not like this book. "It's a lot of family drama and bad choices," said one.

    So I was expecting something overtly dramatic, with a soap-opera vibe.

    But it was none of that. Instead, I got a story with solid writing, well-defined characters, familiar settings, and tales of family love, lore, and longing.

    In short, I liked it. I really liked it.

    Oh, it had some questionable plot twists. When the big secret was reveled, the story just kept going, heading for another big reveal. As one character said, he didn't want to see another potential "emotional mess ... just when they were past the worst of it."

    And neither of those secrets was a surprise; indeed, you wondered why the close-knit Brennans hadn't already figured them out.

    As the novel opens, we find Sunday, the only girl in an Irish-American clan with three brothers, needing help. Five years before, she moved from the family home in Westchester County, N.Y., for Los Angeles. She left behind a devoted fiancé -- considered to already be an honorary Brennan; an elderly, widowed father; and three brothers, including Denny, considered the alpha male. Why she left is the first big mystery.

    But now, she finds herself lost in LA,  with a crappy job, a lousy apartment, and a drunken driving charge.

    She heads back home, and as she gets re-acquainted with the family, we learn their ways. Their stories are told in chapters by a narrator who knows them intimately and can see inside their heads. It's a fine way to tell the tale from all sides

    All of the Brennans have made, and continue to make, bad choices. But they back up each other -- most of the time -- although they keep many secrets. When and how those secrets are revealed are the heart and soul of the story.    

    It's a good family tale, even if, sometimes, you just want to give them a well deserved dope slap.

Book Review: The Wren, The Wren

 By Anne Enright

• Pub Date: 2023

• Genre: Irish Fiction

• Where I bought this book: Barnes & Noble, West Chester, Ohio 

• Why I bought this book: Cool title, from an  old children's song from Ireland. 

 ****

    I'm not sure what to make of this book.

    Enright's writing is descriptive with a touch of wit. Her characters are strong women, rising above (mostly) whatever life has thrown at them. Her dialogue is fast-paced. Her scenes are Irish. Her stories are raw and insightful.

    Some that was apparent in this tale of three generations of an Irish family, struggling to live with the legacy of a grandfatherly poet with a(n undeserved) reputation for tradition and brilliance.

    It fact, until the ending, the novel is a bit of a mess. There's a mishmash of metaphors and a riot of remembrances; quagmires of conversations, gatherings of glib asides, and troves of touchy tweets and texts.

    The grandfather is the symbol of privileged, mediocre men. Phil is an acclaimed poet -- but given the representation of his best work printed in the book -- not a very good one. Terry is the long suffering wife who is little heard from. Carmel is the daughter-- ignored, irritable, but accepting. Nell is the granddaughter, a writer and her grandfather in spirit, but without the privilege or his self-confidence.

    Their stories interact, with each one getting to tell parts of the tale, interspersed with snippets from Phil's work and stories from an unidentified narrator. Of the distinct voices, I liked Nell the best. She comes alive in the latter part of the book.

    She's young, introverted but unperturbed. She tells random stories of her relationship with her mother -- a bit different from her mother's tales -- and her love life and travels. She's confident, indiscriminate in using social media, and wants to be an influencer.

    In her afterword, Enright says Nell was also her favorite. Nell is, Enright says, the heir to her grandfather's carelessness. "She exists in a modern space, one which is full of new possibilities for young women. These include the possibility of going wrong, or even gloriously wrong, as poets are want to do. It seems I invented Nell in order to love her."

    I'm glad she did.

Book Review: Walk the Blue Fields

 By Claire Keegan

• Pub Date: 2017

• Genre: Short Stories

• Where I bought this book: The Bookery, Cincinnati 

• Why I bought this book: I've been grabbing everything I find by this author 

 ******

    A strong collection of ordinary stories about ordinary Irish people going about their daily affairs, accepting their fate with its gloom and loneliness, but always hinting at and hoping for more.

    It's full not of happy-go-lucky folks basking in the glory of the green fields of ole Ireland, but of a melancholy people frustrated by their limitations, squinting up at the sky hoping for a bit of the sun, but enduring the muddy fields and the rain soaking in their shoes.

     Whether they are priest or farmer or soldier or mother, shopper or shopkeeper, Keegan gets inside their hearts and heads, exploring desires amidst exhilarated sadness. She shows lives full of abuse, conflict, and desolation. She pulls no punches, writing her stories with a gift for description and an eye for the pedestrian nature of daily life.

    In the opening story, The Parting Gift, she tells a common tale -- a young woman emigrating to American, not with stars in her eyes, but a hope that no matter what happens there, her life will be better -- or at least different. In Keegan's descriptions, nothing is extraordinary in the girl's preparations, as her mother speaks to her from another room.

                    "You'll have a boiled egg?"

                    "No thanks, Ma."

                    "You'll have something?"

                    "Later on, maybe."

                    "I'll put one on for you."

    It's a scene played out in households throughout Ireland over the years, and Keegan, without sentimentality, captures it perfectly.

    She has honed her craft well. In The Forester's Daughter, she tells of a man and his family trying to do well, but failing miserably, with instances of abuse, cruelty, and neglect taken as a matter of course.

    In the title story, she writes about a priest examining his own life while consecrating the wedding of a well-to-do Irish couple. It's summed up by the priest's thinking that "Anytime promises are made in public, people cry."

Book Review: The Gloaming

   By Melanie Finn

• Pub Date: 2016

• Where I bought this book: Roebling Books, Covington, Ky. 

• Why I bought this book: Gloaming is one of my favorite words 

 *****

    Let me tell you about how I first came across the word gloaming. I'm an old baseball fan, and one of the old baseball stories I read early in life is about "The Homer in the Gloamin'"

    Gloaming is the twilight of the day. In his recent book, Lark Ascending, Silas House has his character use the word. A second character expressed ignorance, asking what it meant. She told him. He asked why she didn't just say dusk. She responded, correctly, that "the word gloaming is so much lovelier." 

    Anyway, baseball. Back in the 1930s, most ballparks did not have lights. Wrigley Field was a case in point -- indeed it was the last modern park to put in lights, in 1988. So the park was dark at night. But late in the 1938 season, the Cubs and Pirates were in a pennant race, with the Pirates half a game ahead of the Cubs. So game 2 of their series would determine which team moved into first place. 

    The game was tied. As nighttime approached and the ninth inning started, the umps said that if neither team scored, they would rule it a tie. And since baseball did not allow for tie games, it would be played all over the next day as part of a doubleheader.

    Top of the ninth, the Pirates failed to scored. Bottom of the ninth, the first two Cubs went hitless. Gabby Hartnett, the Cubs player-manager, was up, and down to his last strike.

    He hit the next pitch into the bleachers, and as he ran the bases and fans swarmed the field to celebrate the victory and move into first place, a reporter for the Associated Press started writing his game story. He dubbed Hartnett's blast, "The Homer in the Gloamin'" 

    So, the legend lives on from the banks of the lake they call Michigan.

__________________________________

    Ok, now about the book, which is not about baseball, and has neither a pennant race nor a home run. 

    What it does have is some good stories and  decent writing. It starts slowly with a series of flashbacks and present time settings. 

    Bit I am somewhat uncomfortable with her settings in Africa, where her descriptions portray a continent of dirty, backwards, violent people. It's the story of a white savior.

    The protagonist and narrator, Pilgrim Jones, is a white woman who has traveled the world with her husband, a human rights lawyer. We learn this, and why, over time. We also learn that while traveling in Africa, she simply decides to abandon her companions and stay in a country village.

    The explanation comes through as she meets a series of characters, most of whom are more interesting than Pilgrim. They all have backgrounds of trauma or bad choices -- and some have both. The first half of the book tells the tales from Pilgrim's perspective, while the latter part reveals details of the rest of the cast.

    The second part is infinitely better. Some of the tales are about people people causing pain and living with it, or perhaps seeking and finding redemption. Others are those who choose to be called victims, but find ways to go on -- or not.

    It hard what to make of this book. Pilgrim's character almost feels like a cliche, a trope. The others are more real, if a mite exaggerated. 

Book Review: Thirteen Ways of Looking

  By Colum McCann

• Pub Date: 2015

• Where I bought this book: Roebling Books, Covington, Ky. 

• Why I bought this book: I love me a good collection of Irish short stories. 

 *****

 

  I am sad that I was generally disappointed in this collection of a novella and three short stories. I have liked several of the author's previous works.

    OK. The stories themselves were decent. The last one, Treaty, about a aging Catholic nun who comes face-to-face with her living nightmare, was thoughtful and compelling. But that one suffered from a flaw the others were far more guilty of, and unexpected from such an accomplished writer: A general lack of focus, using too many words, too much excess description, too much meaningless detail and too many strained metaphors  

    But let's start with the good. Treaty involves Sister Beverly, a nun living in a care home in Long Island, concerned about her health and wondering if her religious life has been a waste. She's forgetful, ill at ease, and unable to feel comfortable in her old age. Then on the television, she sees a man who looks very much like an older version of person who raped her a long time ago. 

    The story deals with perception, pain, horror, and regret. She relives her pain, but does not want to dwell on it as the defining point of her life. Would God want her to reveal the monster -- if that is what he is -- or forgive his actions? Her thoughts and behaviors are deeply compelling, and McCann's tale paints a masterful image.

    Contrast that to the main story, about Peter J. Mendelssohn,  an aging white guy, an immigrant, a Jew, a lawyer, and a former judge in Brooklyn. He's retired, and now living -- and dying -- in a fancy apartment on the Upper East Side. He's had a good life, despite an upbringing in anti-Semitic Europe. But now his days are all about his pains, his diminished capacity, his beloved but now dead wife, and his terse relationship with his egotistical son. 

    But unlike Sister Beverly, his story is not about reflection and regret. It's about him, his thoughts, and his dying. And, quite frankly, his life and story are not all that interesting for the amount of effort it takes to read about it.

    The other two stories, Sh'khol, and What Time is it Now, Where are You? also fall flat.

Book Review: The Granny

 By Brendan O'Carroll

• Pub Date: 1996

• Where I bought this book: Last Exit Books, Kent, Ohio 

• Why I bought this book: I read the first two parts of the trilogy, and liked the stories.

 ******

     Not as laugh-out-loud funny as The Young Wan, nor as disappointing as The Mammy, the conclusion* of the four  stories of Agnes Browne's life is sadder yet more real. It shows her children growing up, their successes and failures, as they experience life in Ireland and beyond in the latter half of the 20th Century. 

    Agnes, the matriarch of the clan, is in many ways a typical Irish mother -- demanding, often self-deprecating, always with more love for her children than herself. She's always willing to go to bat for her brood, but just as willing to shake her wooden spoon at them and threaten to beat them within in inch of their lives.

    But whether those six boys and one girl are kind, loving, and gentle, a common criminal, or a successful businessman, she accepts them for who they are. Even Rory the gay son is accepted, even though his lover and companion is only acknowledged as his close friend.

    But it's a touching, heart-warming family story as the children grow up, make mistakes, cause harm, and break away to find themselves. Sometimes, it a little contrived, and the tales fall into clichés and melodrama. Still, it works, and you should ignore that cynical part of yourself that wants to eye-role, and accept the family for who they are and the tale for what it is.

-------------------------------------------------------

    *Conclusion is not the right word, as the books are written out of order. The Mammy was published in 1994; The Chisellers (which focuses on the children), in 1995; The Granny in 1996, and The Young Wan (about Agnes as a young woman) in 2003.

Book Review: Blackberries, Blackberries

 By Crystal Wilkinson

• Pub Date: 2000

• Where I bought this book: Roebling Books, Covington, Ky. 

• Why I bought this book: For the cover art -- and the title

********

    Short stories comprise many a genre, providing an outlet for stylish writing, whether it be a character study, a self-narrative, a moment in time, or a profile of home.

    The writing may be descriptive or stark. The story may be complete or part of a larger whole. But at their best, short stories allow writers to explore a small slice of life, of time, or of place.

    The best ones are concise, and telling.

    This collection takes all the options, to the benefit of the reader. The tales are brief, most less than 10 pages, some just two or three. But the stories they tell.

    Wilkinson grew up in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky, poor and Black, surrounded by family and community. She watched and listened. She learned to read people and reflect on their nature. She did it for survival, for the times to come, and for the hereafter. She captured their words and their messages. 

      Writing in the vernacular is hard, and often writers fail miserably. But Wilkinson nails it in ways hard to express. Indeed, the English language has few words to describe dialect that aren't degrading or dismissive, an subtle acknowledgement those who make such linguistic decisions look askance at such speaking or writing.

    But Wilkinson pulls it off, and it adds texture and character to her writing. Take for example, her story, Women's Secrets, in which a grandmother, Big Mama, cautions her daughter, Mama, who is young and looking for love wherever she may find it. Mama's daughter, our narrator, pays attention when Big Mama speaks.

I seen that Adams boy sniffing 'round here at your skirts but he ain't no count. Him nor his brothers. His daddy weren't no count neither. What he gonna give a family, girl? Ain't never gonna be nothing. Ain't got no learning. Ain't gonna never have no land. Gambling and carrying like sin.

    Later, in the same story, Big Mama gets more down home, unleashing her tongue and giving Mama a big heap of learnin.

"Chile, mens these times just ain't like your daddy." Big Mama takes a big loud breath and starts in on Mama again. "Ain't nare one of 'em no more than breath and britches, specially them Adams boys. Watch my words now girl, I'm telling you. Ain't good for not a damn. God in heaven forgive me but ain't good for not a damn. Breath and britches all they are."

      The stories are personal, and depend much on the relationships between women, particularly mothers and daughters. Their stories, literally, are about life and death. One, Waiting on the Reaper shows Wilkinson at her best, telling the tale of an old woman waiting to die, which she could have learned only by listening to a old woman waiting to die. 

    "I'm ready now," she said. "Ain't got too much time. Gonna see Lonnie and my little girlfriend that drowned in a well when I was ten."

Book Review: City of Orange

 By David Yoon

• Pub Date: 2022

• Where I bought this book: Irvington Vinyl and Books, Indianapolis 

• Why I bought this book: A blurb describes it as a cross between Station Eleven and The Road

***

    The Unreliable Narrator style, which is used in this book, annoys me.

    It makes me angry and frustrated. I feel deceived and manipulated. It makes the novel seem pointless, like the author didn't understand where they were taking the story, so changed direction. Ultimately, it's a waste of time for the reader.

    Like this book.

    Is it the tale of a man beaten and dumped in a future world, perhaps on another planet? Is it a description of a wasteland after a cataclysmic event? We don't know, and neither does our hero, who can't even remember his own name. It unfolds slowly, as we see what he sees, with vivid descriptions of horror and loss in the world he believes himself to be in.

    Yet, hints abound that all is not as it appears. 

    I'm not going to say more about the plot, such as it is, so as not to reveal any spoilers. Suffice to say it goes in a lot of directions, several of which are predictable, some of which are cliches and tropes, and few of which are original. And yes, I get the extended metaphor, but it's weak.

    Still, it has strong points: A smart, well-drawn main character whom we get to know and can identify with. Sharp writing that drags you in. A setting that is both everywhere and nowhere.

    But deep flaws overcome those positives. A  sense of evil pervades that main character. (At one point in my notes, I write: Did something bad happen to him, or did he do something bad?) Secondary character are mere bit players. The story drags, and the detailed writing can be overdone. It's impossible to tell whether the setting is real or imagined.

Book Review: Daisy Jones & The Six

 

•  Author: Taylor Jenkins Reid

• Where I bought this book: The Book Loft, Columbus, Ohio 

• Why I bought this book: I read another book by the author, and my daughter recommended this one

*******

    The faux oral history style is a wonderful way to tell this story. It was like reading a long, detailed magazine article about a defining moment in the history of rock and roll. A friend of mine said after reading the book, she googled the band to learn more about it.

 

    Yep, it seems that real.

    Of course, it's nothing of the sort; rather it is the imaginings of a creative mind who took a tale and ran with it.

    Part of the fun of the book is trying to figure who, if anyone, the characters are based on. Daisy, of course, has shades of Janis Joplin in her soul. But Billy Dunne, the founder and lead singer of The Six? Well, I am far from being an expert in the history of '70s rock, but every time I thought of someone he might resemble, I shook my head and moved on. Maybe a little? I thought. But whom am I leaving out, if not most of the era's rock stars?

    So I took the tale as it was, an overview of a band that started slow, pulsed and throbbed for a while before it hit the big time, and then moved on. It's a good story, done well. The almost realism gives it a special glow.

    Of course, the tale of a big-time rock band leaves little out of the mixture: drugs abound, talent and fragile egos go hand-in-hand, a rock-solid spouse holds things together. But morals come into play -- deep down, despite their problems and failings and weakness, these are generally good people.

Book Review: Learning to Talk

 

•  Authors: Hilary Mantel

• Where I bought this book: Arcadia Books, Spring Green, Wisc. 

• Why I bought this book: Her other collection was titled and included the story, The Assassination of Margaret Thatcher

*******

    

    The settings in these short stories, mostly about childhood, are benign; the colors are grey; the tales are ordinary.

    But the writing is crisp. It shows off the literary style of one of the  best writers of our time. It has touches of that droll British wit. It is written mostly in the first person, and thus brings us closer to the author and the subjects.

    Indeed, the collection is pure British. Its tone, its inflections and its manner says, quite politely yet determinately, that this is a British book of British stories.

    None of that is surprising. Its author is one of the finest writers in Britain today. Mantel is a two-time winner of the Booker Prize, and her latest book -- the finale in her trilogy of the years of Thomas Cromwell and Henry VIII -- was longlisted for the 2020 Booker Prize. 

   This is one of her earlier books, published in 2003, and her first of just two collections of short stories.

    Many of the stories appear to be almost autobiographical, and that is not an accident. In her forward, Mantel says the tales are part of her life, but are not her real life.

I would not describe these stories as autobiographical, more as autoscopic. From a distant, elevated perspective, my writing self is looking down at a body reduced to a shell, waiting to be fleshed out by phrases.

    Among my favorite tales is King Billy is a Gentleman, in which a Catholic lodger replaces the father in a household, and the tale explores some of the sectarianism in British life. The Clean Slate shows the failures of the perspectives of the past to tell a true story. It contains the great line about a couple of Irish uncles: "They drank when they had money, and prayed when they had none."

    Third Floor Rising, about a mother who gains confidence when she goes to work in a Manchester department store, and her daughter, who does not, has the stock on the floor as major characters.

Book Review: Good Eggs

•  Author: Rebecca Hardiman

• Where I bought this book: The Book Loft, Columbus, Ohio 

• Why I bought this book: I was looking for a quick and fun read; this was her debut novel, and it looked right

******

    Like her character Millie Gogarty, Hardiman tells a good yarn.

 

    But unlike the elderly Millie, who tends to embellish and stretch out her story telling, Hardiman is concise and keen. She writes a pithy and funny tale about the kerfuffle that three generations of a Irish family find themselves in during the rainy season of their discontent.

    Yet, despite their meanderings, mistakes, and muddled lives, we know, deep down, they are good eggs. Why, it says so right on the cover.

    The middle guy in this saga is Kevin, a son and a father who is trying to hold their lives together, but like many a hapless dad, finds that no one really listens to him. Still, he tries.

     He loves his wife (mostly); he adores his four kids (even when they act out), and he does his best for his mother as she enters the purple phase of her life.

    His mother is Millie, elderly and kinda, sorta losing it, but determined to continue as she always has. She wants to keep her seaside house in Dúg Laoghaire, outside of Dublin, but when she gets arrested for mindlessly shoplifting at her local store, gives in to Kevin's insistences she bring in a caretaker.

    Then there's Aideen, Kevin's 16-year-old daughter. She is, well, she's a moody teenager who hates her family, hates her school, and hates her life -- and she isn't shy about letting everyone know. She does not take kindly to her parents' plan to send her to a nearby boarding school.

    There are a few other characters -- Aideen's perfect but bitchy twin, Nuala (who Aideen calls Nemesis); Kevin's mate's mother, Maeve, who gives Kevin the what for: Miss Bleekland, the school's disciplinarian (and old maid); Sylvia, the American helpmate, and assorted friends, neighbors and relatives -- mostly well drawn, but just around for decoration. Except for one of them. Well, maybe two.

    So that's the setting, and the story takes off from there. It's a short book of 323 pages -- and 64 chapters! -- so it moves quickly. It may take a while to introduce everyone before the real action starts, but then things hurry along. 

    It's funny, gentle, and moving.

Book Review: The Young Wan

•  Author: Brendan O'Carroll

• Where I bought this book: Roebling Books, Newport, Ky.

• Why I bought this book: It's not easy finding contemporary Irish fiction. When I do, I buy it.

*********

    There's a wee bit of magic here on the streets of Dublin, circa 1940. Think Derry Girls, but further south and earlier in time.

    This is a quintessential Irish book: About family and church and schooling and sex, it's laugh-out-loud hysterical, and melancholy. 

    Those familiar with growing up in an Irish Catholic home any time within the past 100 years or so will find themselves recognizing the mothers and fathers and priests and nuns. You'll smile, break into wide grins, or laugh as you read and the tears stream down your cheeks.

    The story about the preparation for one's First Confession, delivered by Sister Concepta Pius of the Blessed Heart Girls National School and punctuated by Marion Delany's questions -- she always has questions -- is worth the price of admission. So is the description of the school's sex education lecture, which served its purpose by leaving the girls "half informed and completely terrified."

    The book explores the childhood and teenage years of Agnes Reddin, who later became Agnes Brown. In other books by O'Carroll, she is a wife, a mammy and a granny, but this it the story of her days before she became all that.

    Agnes and Marion are best of friends, trying to survive in the working-class ghetto of the Jarro when church and state in Ireland were, like a twin Jesus, always watching and judging. It tells about Agnes' family -- her father Basco, a factory worker and trade union man inspired by the real-life James Larkin, her mother Connie, daughter of the factory owner who was disowned and disinherited after marrying a working man, and younger sister Dolly, who lives to break the rules.

    But the heart and of the story is whether Agnes will wear a white dress at her wedding, against all the rules, when everyone in Dublin knows she cannot because she's not a virgin.  

    The writing here is wonderful and like the novel: Short, simple, direct, and funny.  It's tenderhearted and kind. 

    It's well worth your time.

Book Review: The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

• Author: Taylor Jenkins Reid

• Where I bought this book: Barnes & Noble, West Chester, Ohio

• Why I bought this book: I really don't remember, but I liked the title

******

    Imagine, if you will, a Hollywood starlet -- talented, smart, and oh, so beautiful. A blonde bombshell, if you will, a combination of Marilyn Monroe and Jean Harlow, but with the wit and cunning of the smartest producer in Hollywood.

    She's a woman who is willing to do just about anything to achieve the fame and fortune she believes she deserves. An actress who knows that the tabloid reporters and the paparazzi use her, but who also knows how to use them. A performer who recognizes that her private life can advance or destroy her career, and takes that into account in every decision she makes.

    Now suppose, just for supposing's sake, that the aging starlet Evelyn Hugo wants to auction some of her famous dresses for charity. And she chooses a certain young journalist at a certain popular celebrity magazine to be the one to write about the upcoming event with a special photo shoot.

    Except -- except -- when said reporter arrives for the appointment, said Hollywood legend says she is not going to talk about the dresses, but about her life. She will speak only to this young but ambitious reporter. She'll reveal all the details, all the secrets, all the reasons. She tells the reporter they can be published in all their meticulous specificity in an authorized biography.

    But only when she is dead.

    That's how this book begins. OK, there may be a few spoilers in the above rendition. But not many. And there's a lot more to story to come.

    The book has two basic characters: Hugo and her writer (and alter-ego? protege?admirer?) Monique Grant. There are others that come and go in the book, but they are they only to say something about Hugo and Grant.

    The story is told as a biography of one of its biggest fictional stars, told in exquisite detail by the legend herself. It's a tale of Hollywood, about how the movie industry really works. It's a believeable yarn, with more glamour and seediness than we think we already know. It's a place where secrets are both open and hidden.

    But interspersed is the growing relationship between Hugo and Grant, and why the older actress chose the young writer to tell the story. Hints throughout that we will learn something awful about their connection are kind of annoying, trying to make us guess what ties them together.

    Both are strong characters. Hugo doesn't apologize for any of her choices. She may have a few regrets, but nothing major. She lived her life the way she wanted -- and needed -- and is satisfied.

    Grant is a bit more conflicted. She likes Hugo's strength and power, and would like to emulate her. But she also fears Hugo's actions were selfish and harmful.

    And therein lies the tale.

Book Review: The Parting Glass

 

• Author: Gina Marie Guadagnino

• Where I bought this book: Barnes & Noble Bookstore, West Chester, Ohio

• Why I bought this book: It shares a title with a great old Irish song

******

    Mary Ballard, born Maire O'Farren, left her home and her job in the west of Ireland for reasons unknown -- but eventually explained -- sometime in the early 19th Century.

    Her ensuing life in New York City as an Irish immigrant, a lady's maid, and denizen near the old Five Points neighborhood tells a tale of love and loss, heartbreak, and high living among poverty and destitution.

    Guadagnino's debut novel is a wonderful read.

    It's chock full of Irish history, New York City history, and the history of the Irish in New York. It touches on subjects including LGBT love, the empowerment of women, immigration, and the life of the rich and the poor in the 19th Century. 

    O'Farren -- or Ballard -- caters to her mistress, Charlotte Walden, a wealthy young woman of leisure whose sole goal in life is to find a wealthy husband. Walden, however, would rather love the man who runs the stables at her estate, near Washington Park in old New York City. That man, unknown to the  Charlotte, is Ballard's twin brother, Seanin. Of course, the Waldens are unaware of Charlotte's love for a common man.

    One more thing: Ballard holds in her heart her own unrequited and unspoken love for Miss Walden.

    But that's not all.

    On her nights off, Ballard hits the bars that line the streets of New York's lower east side. She finds a home at the Hibernian, run by Dermot, the man who sponsored and stood for her in New York. There, she meets another lover, a black woman who works as a prostitute and dreams of running her own brothel.

    Meanwhile, Dermot has his own connections with the Tammany Hall Irish who run that part of New York City, along with some ties to the Irish rebels back home. Here's is where Seanin returns to the story.

    Eventually, they all come together in a surprising and intriguing climax. Guadagnino does an impressive jobs with her research, her historical knowledge, and her writing.

Book Review

 Ariadne, by Jennifer Saint

• Where I bought this book: The Strand Bookstore, New York
• Why I bought this book: Rewritten myths re-tell a great tale

******

   

    The ancient myths of various cultures is how they remain relevant today. So a good writer can take a myth, view it from another perspective, and give it a meaning for today's world.

    As long as that perspective is within the larger realm of myth, it can fit into the canon and become another way of looking at the world of the gods.

    Such is the case with Ariadne, a new tale about the Greek myth about the mortal life of the woman who is the wife of Dionysus and the sister of the Minataur. 

    For the most part, Saint stays true to the original tale, taking advantage of the differing interpretations by the Greek writers, and adding her own twists to the tale. She reimagines  the ties Ariadne has to well-known gods and mortals, including Daedalus and his son Icarus, and King Minos of Crete.

     Some of those old myths are told in passing, fitted to fit this larger tale of Ariadne. We hear mentions of Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, and Athena.

    Briefly, Zeus decided to punish Ariadne's mother, Pasiphaë, because he was angry with King Minos, Ariadne's father and Pasiphaë's husband. (A major theme in this feminist take is that the gods often punished woman for the misdeeds of men.) Zeus determined that Pasiphaë would lust after a prized bull that would then impregnate her, and she would give birth to a half-man, half-bull. King Minos would later lock the Minotaur away in the celler, bringing it out for his own purposes.

    Ariadne helps a prince of Athens, Theseus, kill the Minotaur. She had fallen in love with Theseus, who promised to make her the queen of Athens, but he reneged, leaving her to die on the island of Naxos, where she survived, and then met and wed Dionysus.

    All of that is fine, and Saint tells it well. But there is more, and Saint writes perseptively about Ariadne's meeting Dionysus and their falling in love; her desire to reunite with her sister, Phaedra; her life on Naxos, and her dealing with being the wife of a god.

        This is a feminist, women-centered version of the stories, told by Ariadne. It describes the stories and concerns of the women often cast aside in the myth-making of ancient Greece. The book does tend to drag at times, but overall it's a linear tale that's crafted well and does justice to its roots and its women.

Book Review

 New York, My Village, by Uwem Akpan

• Where I bought this book: The Book Loft, Columbus, Ohio
• Why I bought this book: It has a map

****

    My indelable memory of the Biafran War is the Catholic Charities "relief campaign" that used pictures of starving African children with bloated stomachs to raise money.

 

   That's it. I knew nothing about the reasons for the war, or even where in Africa Biafra was.

    So I was hoping this book would help me learn just a little bit about the war, and just as important, what happened and what is happening now. 

    It kinda did. But it also taught me the war has a long background, involves colonization and other crimes committed on the African peoples, and pretty much boils down to why any war is fought -- hatred, discrimination, jealously, and control.

    Briefly, and I hope I get this right: Biafra is a small province in the south of Nigeria. Northern Nigerian tribes, particularly the Hausa-Fulani, dominated. In 1967, representatives of the Igbo tribe in southern Nigeria, based in Biafra, claimed they controlled the south and proclaimed their independence.

    It did not go well. There's a reason you don't hear of Biafra anymore. It's no longer a country, and hasn't been since 1970.

    In this fictionalized account, Ekong Udousoro is a book editor, and he receives a fellowship to intern at a small publishing company in New York City. He is part of the Annang, who also lives in southern Nigeria, but have had little control to the dominant Igbo. Or as Ekong puts it, his group is a minority within a minoiry. 

    This book is an account of his months learning the book publishing industry, coupled with memories of the war -- which actually happened before he was born, but which has shaped his family, his village, and himself.

    But it's also about his family relationships -- which are confusing; his troubles and joys adapting to living in Hell's Kitchen -- ugh! far too much information on bedbugs and his problems with them; his relationships with his landlord, the man he is subletting his apartment from; the racism he confronts on the job and in book publishing; his difficulties getting along with his new neighbors, and much, much more.

    It's really too much. He covers too many issues, confusing us on many occassions, and spends far too much time on the damn bedbugs. (And even when you think he is done with that, they come back! I was ready to toss the book across the room at this point.)

    Still, at its heart, the book's theme is about how we complicate our lives by dividing ourselves in too many groups -- by color, ethnicity, religion, jobs, community, and so much more. In short, perhaps we are all minorities of a minority.