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29 August 2012

Book Review - Upon a Dark Night

Upon A Dark Night (Peter Diamond, #5)Upon A Dark Night by Peter Lovesey
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Diamond at it again. Intriguing amnesia storyline, a wonderfully crass and colorful shoplifter with a heart of gold and Saxon artifacts, all rolled up into a pat-answer burrito.

One of the dependable, likable main characters makes an exit at the end; wonder how the series will suffer as a result.

And, yeah, despite the fact that this series is a bit of a stretch, I'm enjoying the ride. Onward.

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Book Review - Bloodhounds

Bloodhounds (Peter Diamond, #4)Bloodhounds by Peter Lovesey
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

My favorite Diamond so far, perhaps because it includes all the aspects of the "cozy" that I enjoy; small cast, iconic and a solution that stares you in the face the whole time without you seeing it, despite the fact you're looking.

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22 August 2012

Book Review - The Summons

The Summons (Peter Diamond, #3)The Summons by Peter Lovesey
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Diamond is brought back to Bath to appease an escaped convict who is holding a hostage claiming his innocence.

Diamond solves it all, with the help of a softspoken female detective with an wonderfully dry undercurrent of sassy.

Jane Austen shows up again, too.

And he finally has the sense to get his CID job back, which, I hope, will make for more classically constructed sequels.

Which, of course, I'm going to read. Right now.

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Book Review - Diamond Solitaire

Diamond Solitaire (Peter Diamond, #2)Diamond Solitaire by Peter Lovesey
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Just plowing through these things; this one has Diamond chasing all over the world trying to track the family of a mute Japanese girl he found while on the job as a security guard at Harrod's. Diamond gets bankrolled by a Sumo wrestler, repaints a teacher's lounge a horrible tomato color, flies on the Concord and gets tossed in the Hudson river. Not necessarily in that order.

Meanwhile, a priest touches a woman's breasts, speeds off in guilt on his moped, stops by the side of the road to look at a tower of flame and causes a wreck in which two men are killed, neither of whom are the priest. The flame is caused by a suspicious fire at the Italian subsidiary of a drug company whose CEO commits suicide instead of dying of cancer and his son must run the company.

How does this all fit together? Good question. Lovesey stretches and elasticizes and comes up with something barely plausible.

But he never returns to the priest who fondled the widow while giving her a massage. And I really want to know what happens to him.

And yet, I'm off and away on yet another one. These things are like crack.

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15 August 2012

Book Review - Eat, Pray, Love


Eat, Pray, LoveEat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I did not want to like this book.

I even waited until I had an e-reader so that I could surreptitiously peruse its pages without anyone seeing the silly cover and the silly title and the silly middle-aged lady reading a book by another silly middle-aged lady about how to handle a midlife crises through food, God and sex.

Gilbert sets herself up as a serious seeker ("Sincere spiritual investigation is, and always has been, an endeavor of methodical discipline.  Looking for Truth is not some kind of spazzy free-for-all, not even during this, the great age of spazzy free-for-all.") while at the same time writing in a voice that sometimes screams "hippie-dippie ohm-chanting flake!" and other times screams "look how silly it would be to be a hippie-dippie ohm-chanting flake!"  She writes in such a self-depricating, reader-depricating, tongue-in-cheek fashion that the moments that resonated with me, and there were many, tended to get lost in the quotes like "...since I have introduced that loaded word-GOD-into my book, and since this is a word which will appear many times again throughout these pages, it seems only fair that I pause here for a moment to explain exactly what I mean when I say that word, just so people can decide right away how offended they need to get" or "And while I do love that great teacher of peace who was called Jesus, and while I do reserve the right to ask myself in certain trying situations what indeed He would do..."

Cheeky, right?  Funny.   I admit to giggling.  But am I supposed to giggle at someone's spiritual journey?

But then she turns around and writes things like, "I'm still deeply ambivalent about mood-altering medications.  I'm awed by their power, but concerned by their prevalence."  Deep, resonating stuff.  No cheek.

So what to make of this book?

I have no idea.  It suffers from an identity crisis; serious tome of self-discovery or goofy Bridget-Jones-Diary of finding oneself?

It's both.  And perhaps the same qualities I'm decrying as inconsistent made it readable for me; almost as if by so openly inviting my scorn she effectively defused it.  No one wants to slog through a self-congratulatory memoir like this one could have been.  But if I can laugh at Gilbert's idiocy while simultaneously respecting her quest then maybe I can see what she did as more than just possible for me but slightly probable, even.  Maybe.  If I can get an advance for the book I'm going to write to pay for the venture.  Maybe someone will see this well-penned review and give me a six-figure advance to go to the Maldives.  Because I want to go to the Maldives before they are underwater.  And I'm sure I could write alternately deep, thoughtful, meaningful prose interspersed with amusing stories about why I'm such a blooming idiot.  Anyone want to take me up on that?

I promise to relax while in the Maldives.  I've always enjoyed the countries that engage in the siesta and the cafe culture where true success means you get to sit sipping espresso or wine while the rest of the rat race passes you by.  Gilbert is with me on that one;
"Generally speaking, though, Americans have the inability to relax into sheer pleasure.  Ours is an entertainment-seeking nation, but not necessarily a pleasure-seeking one.  Americans spend billions to keep themselves amused with everything from porn to theme parks to wars, but that's not exactly the same thing as quiet enjoyment ... Alarming statistics back this up, showing that many Americans feel more happy and fulfilled in their offices than they do in their own homes.  Of course, we all inevitably work too hard, then we get burned out and have to spend the whole weekend in our pajamas, eating cereal straight out of the box and staring at the TV in a mild coma (which is the opposite of working, yes, but not exactly the same thing as pleasure).  Americans don't really know how to do nothing"

The Italians have an expression;  bel far niente - the beauty of doing nothing.  Italians also get "beauty" more than Americans do.  The world is corrupt and unfair;  Italians tolerate incompetency in so many professions, but never in art ... "In a world of disorder and disaster and fraud, sometimes only beauty can be trusted.  Only artistic excellence is incorruptible."

Hells yes.

Gilbert also has a wonderfully sketched metaphor that describes the conflict and cooperation of fate and choice better than any other attempt I've ever read;
"We gallop through our lives like circus performers balancing on two speeding side-by-side horses--one foot is on the horse called "fate," the other on the horse called "free will."  And the question you have to ask every day is--which horse is which?  Which horse do I need to stop worrying about because it's not under my control, and which do I need to steer with concentrated effort?"

Hells yes.

And what of organized religion?  Don't get "...too obsessed with the repetition of religious ritual just for its own sake.  Especially in this divided world, where the Taliban and the Christian Coalition continue to fight out their international trademark war over who owns the rights to the word God and who has the proper rituals to reach that God, it may be useful to remember that it is not the [ritual] that has ever brought transcendence, but only the constant desire of an individual seeker to experience the eternal compassion of the divine.  Flexibility is just as essential for divinity as discipline."

Hells yes again.

So my final verdict?  Read this book but don't expect it to deeply change your life.  And then, when you're done, give me an advance for the self-exploration memoir I'm going write in the Maldives entitled "Laughing My Way to Enlightenment."  I promise you, you're going to love it.


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23 July 2012

Book Review: Savvy


SavvySavvy by Ingrid Law
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A great conceit, great characters within a great structure and a good story bogged down by a writing style that borders on the preciously overwritten.  From the opening paragraph;

"I had liked living down south on the edge of land, next to the pushing-pulling waves.  I had liked it with a mighty kind of liking, so moving had been hard - hard like the pavement the first time I fell off my pink two-wheeler and my palms burned like fire from all of the hurt just under the skin."

Thankfully, I either got used to it or Law calmed down the metaphoricsimile a tad and though I rolled my eyes a couple of times at the language, it usually didn't get in the way of the story.

And sometimes it created deep insight;

"'I'm not perfect, Mibs.  Nobody's perfect.  I just have a knack for getting things right.  Maybe that looks a lot like perfect sometimes.  Besides you'd be surprised at how many people dislike spending time with someone who constantly gets things right.  It's not always an easy way to be.'"

"Maybe we all have other people's voices running higgledy-piggledy through our heads all the time.  I thought about how often my poppa and momma were there inside my head with me, telling me right from wrong.  Or how the voices of Ashley Bing and Emma Flint sometimes got stuck under my skin, taunting me and making me feel low, even when they weren't around.  I began to realize how hard it was to separate out all the voices to hear the single, strong one that came just from me."


"When something like that comes along, whether it's an accident or a savvy or a very first kiss, life takes a turn and you can't step back.  All you can do is keep moving forward and remember what you've learned."


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22 July 2012

Book Review: 1861 - The Civil War Awakening


1861: The Civil War Awakening1861: The Civil War Awakening by Adam Goodheart
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I love history but it is rare, even for me, to pick up a historical tome and not be able to put it down.

This is one such tome.

Goodheart takes nine seemingly trivial situations/happenings/ideas from the year 1861 and weaves them into a tapestry of such strength and conviction that the reader is rather gobstopped that the authors of the various and sundry other books she's read on the topic of the American Civil War did not expound or, even mention, these subjects.

Goodheart starts with Fort Sumter but presents it as a prologue;  it's not the story.  It's really going to be a culmination of one story and the impetus of another.  And for a third it will only be a minor detail.  And so on.

But on to the real story;  the story of how the Union was willing to tolerate slavery to save the Union.  How Lincoln would have happily continued to abide by that compromise had events allowed him to.  How Garfield, who would become a president so reviled for his civil rights fervor that he would be shot because of it, started out as a professor and preacher who was ambivalent about freeing the slaves.  This I'd heard about before.  But Elmer Ellsworth?  The Zouaves?  Jesse Benton Fremont? The telegraph and how it affected the war?  Thomas Starr King?  The uprisings in St. Louis and the German heroes? Benjamin Franklin Butler setting the ball rolling towards emancipation by employing a legal loophole that most thought laughable?  Fort Monroe and contraband? Lincoln's 1861 July 4th address to congress?  If I'd heard of them, I'd forgotten them.  And Goodheart makes them unforgettable.  Indeed, he makes them sea changes in a year that determined how we'd wage war and how we'd wage peace.

Goodheart is a travel writer and writes a Civil War blog, so his prose is engaging.  Certainly, there are probably some staid historians out there who would frown at his parenthetical references and his periodic exclamation points and his inside jokes.  For this reader, however, the style made the subjects inherently interesting.  Goodheart paints a picture.  And he doesn't hit you over the head with footnotes (though the book is highly researched and referenced).

Goodheart makes the most remarkable connections throughout the book;  take 1861 comet, for example.  In riffing on the effect of the astronomical occurrence on the course of human history, Goodheart writes,

"So much had changed in the past few years - even the past few months.  Fixed truths seemed to be casting themselves adrift; familiar stars departing from their orbits.  Revolution, in the sense that astronomers at Washington's Naval Observatory used the term, meant something stately and predictable, an orbit tethered by the gravity of the sun.  Elsewhere in the capital city, of course, the word meant something quite different;  elsewhere in the nation, different things still.  Until recently, America's own revolution had come to seem like a fact moored safely to the ever-more-distant year 1776.  That was now no longer the case.  It blazed again across the sky, a thing of wonder and terror, still uncertain in its import."

And Lincoln, who has the reputation of brilliance because he jotted the Gettysburg Address on the back of an envelope?  Well, he took three months to draft a message to congress in 1861.  He wrote.  He rewrote.  He pondered.  He tested his message.  And after those three months, he emerged, no longer a railsplitter on the rail but a man decided and firm about the steps he needed to take to assure the fate of the nation.  Goodheart writes,

"Although he might not have scribbled his 1863 address on the back of an envelope, as legend would have it, it should be no surprise that he wrote it fairly quickly.  Lincoln had already done the hard work of the Gettysburg Address, the heavy intellectual lifting, in 1861.  The two intervening years would go to pare away the nonessentials, to sculpt 6,256 words of prose into 246 words of poetry.  When people like Emerson had criticized Lincoln for spending so long toiling over the Independence Day message, they did not understand that the president, in doing so, had in a very real sense been fighting the war.  Through his lonely Emersonian struggle, all those torturous hours alone with his thoughts and his half-filled pages, he had been arming himself for the terrible conflict ahead.  Again and again over the next four years, those who knew Lincoln would express their amazement at his lack of self-doubt, his tenacity in staying the course-so different from the early weeks of his presidency.  But once he had written his address to Congress, Lincoln never again needed to ask himself whether he should be fighting or what he was fighting for.  With these large questions settled, the smaller ones of how to fight often answered themselves.  The proper resolution of the Sumter crisis, which had tortured Lincoln in March and early April, seemed almost obvious in retrospect.  Reasoning backward from the principles he articulated on July Fourth, he could not possibly have behaved any differently.  Reasoning forward, much of his course ahead was clear."

The whole book is full of a-ha moments arising from facts and situations forgotten by large scale tellings of history.

And reading it in an election year, when the country seems just as polarized as it was then, was an exercise in "the more things change, the more they stay the same."  I wish the lesson of history - those who do not learn it are doomed to repeat it - held more sway with our current leaders and politicians.  For them, I close with Goodheart's words about the sudden sense of purpose of the Union after Fort Sumter;

"The attack on Sumter forced Americans everywhere to pick sides; to stand either with the flag or against it ... Northerners chose to stand with it.  And that expression of national unity, in turn, became the strongest possible argument for the Union itself: for the idea that the flag could shelter beneath its folds Americans of many opinions and temperaments, and that disagreement need not mean disunion.  The pure wordless symbol of a piece of cloth could represent both the deepest traditions of American radicalism and those of American conservatism."




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