Mysteries by Prolific Authors

Some authors of mystery novels really churn those titles out.  Here are reviews of novels by two women who are beloved by followers of the genre.

Murder Takes a Vacation     Laura Lippman     (2025)  The mystery writer Laura Lippman takes one of the minor characters from a previous novel and makes her the star of this one. Mrs Muriel Blossom is a widow who has been providing daycare for her daughter’s children for several years. Suddenly, the daughter and son-in-law relocate their family to Japan for work, and they do not invite Mrs Blossom to join them. Mrs Blossom’s sadness at this turn of events is mitigated when she finds a lottery ticket in a parking lot and learns that she’s won a large fortune. She books a cruise on the Seine, with stops in Paris, and that’s when the plot gets twisty. Why do several men take a special interest in a 68-year-old woman who wears unfashionable clothes? Might it be that she has unknowingly been drawn into the heist of a major work of art? I guessed pieces of this mystery, but the full unfolding in the final chapters was a surprise. This is a light read, with appealing characters and several fun excursions around Paris.

The Long Call     Ann Cleeves     (2019)  Author Ann Cleeves is well known for two series of mysteries that became popular multi-episode television programs, currently streaming on BritBox:  The Shetland Series (with Jimmy Perez) and The Vera Stanhope Series. Back in 2019, Cleeves launched The Two River Series with The Long Call, introducing detective Matthew Venn and set on the wild and gorgeous north coast of Devon, in southwest England. Matthew has recently moved back to this area to take a new police job, but he’s conflicted about being near where he grew up, in a strict fundamentalist Christian sect that he’s long been estranged from. When a man is found stabbed to death on a Devon beach, Matthew heads the investigation, following leads linked to an arts complex that also houses a day center for developmentally disabled adults. Complicating matters, Matthew’s husband founded and now runs this arts complex. The plot has plenty of twists and red herrings, and all the detectives on the case come alive on the page. Matthew, in particular, will steal your heart with his sensitivity and kindness and inner brokenness. He’s also a damn fine investigator. This is the only book in The Two River Series that has been brought to the screen, also on BritBox.

Two (Very Different) Mysteries

Marble Hall Murders     Anthony Horowitz     (2025)  Author Horowitz can really churn out the devilishly complicated metafictional mysteries! This one is closely linked to two of his previous mysteries, Magpie Murders and Moonflower Murders, that also starred the character Susan Ryeland. You’ll be able to follow the plot of Marble Hall Murders more easily if you first read those previous books. (See my full review of Magpie Murders here.) In Marble Hall Murders, Susan, now a freelance book editor in London, is engaged by a publishing firm to work with Eliot Crace, an heir of a wealthy literary family. Eliot is writing a continuation novel, following up on a popular mystery series by a fictional author who died in Magpie Murders. Chunks of Eliot’s mystery story are inserted into the story of the interaction of Susan and Eliot, who are, of course, fictional characters themselves. The layers of narrative are so complex that I read this 579-page book in two days so that I could remember all the plot connections. The writing in a Horowitz mystery is clever and flowing and sophisticated. At the end of each book, I always marvel at how all the pieces fit together. This title is a must-read for all mystery fans. And don’t miss the excellent screen adaptations of Magpie Murders and Moonflower Murders starring Lesley Manville, on PBS. (My reviews of other Horowitz mysteries are here and here and here.) 

Mansion Beach     Meg Mitchell Moore     (2025)  The vibe here is definitely “Beach Read” or “Chick Lit,” but an underlying mystery kept me turning the pages. On Block Island, a resort spot off the coast of Rhode Island, someone has drowned, and the identity of the victim is not revealed until very late in the narrative. Main characters: Nicola (young woman who’s left her boyfriend and her law practice for a summer internship on the island); Juliana (tech entrepreneur on the brink of mega-wealth); and Taylor (old-money wife of Nicola’s cousin David). There’s a lot of not-so-subtle poking of the ultra-wealthy and of men who use and then discard women. As the novelist writes (page 306), “It’s a story of money, yes . . . new money, and old money, wealth and class, and the difference between the two. It’s a love story too, of course, which means it’s also a tragedy, which many love stories are.”

21st-Century Family Life in Fiction

How the Light Gets In     Joyce Maynard     (2024)  This novel is a sequel to Maynard’s 2021 Count the Ways, and it helps to know the basics of that plot. In Count the Ways, the many sad and shocking events that punctuate Eleanor’s life are traced from her childhood, in the 1950s and 1960s, into the 2000s. Eleanor balances her career as an artist and children’s book author with her role as wife to her woodworker husband, Cam, and as mother to their three children. In How the Light Gets In, Maynard follows Eleanor from her late 50s into her 70s, with many flashbacks to events of previous decades. Family interactions are always complicated, and the three generations of Eleanor’s family have more than their fair share of struggle and misfortune, including estrangement between parent and child, terminal illness, career failure (and success), disability, gender dysphoria, and a long-distance affair. All this takes place against the backdrop of the tumultuous American political scene of the years 2009 to 2024. I found some of the subplots, especially that long-distance affair, farfetched, but I loved the characters so much that I gave the novelist a pass. If you delight in reading about the everyday lives of people doing their best within their imperfect families, Maynard’s work will please you. Incidentally, the light gets in through the cracks.

Truly Madly Guilty     Liane Moriarty     (2016)  I could not get my head around Moriarty’s 2014 bestseller, Big Little Lies, but I thought I’d try this subsequent novel of hers. In Truly Madly Guilty, Moriarty takes us inside three upper-middle-class marriages and inside the heads of the six adults at a friendly backyard barbecue that goes horribly awry. (The setting is Sydney, Australia, where the inhabitants are really partial to barbecues, but it could be any industrialized country.) For more than 200 pages, I read with infuriating impatience, as the “incident” at this barbecue is revealed ever so slowly in brief flashbacks. But after the reveal, the tale is livelier. All the characters have to come to grips with their feelings of guilt and with the way that this guilt affects their personal relationships. The dialogue is realistic, as are the well-drawn characters. I especially loved Oliver, the sensible, nerdy accountant, and Dakota, the bright, bookish ten-year-old daughter of one of the couples. Maybe the wrap-up of the plot is a little too pat, but it worked for me.

 Show Don’t Tell     Curtis Sittenfeld     (2025)  I’ve read and reviewed most of Sittenfeld’s work (click here), and I’ve rarely been disappointed. She portrays 21st-century life candidly, especially in the way that she uncovers the emotions of women—as wives, mothers, sisters, friends, lovers, students, businesspeople, professionals, artists. In this latest collection of short stories, Sittenfeld does not veer away from her raucous, funny approach to fiction, so expect explicit sex and cringey toilet scenes. But don’t expect tidy endings. Many of the stories present the characters at decision points in their lives, and the reader doesn’t always find out what the decision is. I noted also the author’s fascination with the way in which wealthy and famous Americans handle their wealth and fame, including thinly disguised portraits of living billionaires.

Author Spotlight: Weike Wang

Back in 2018—when I reviewed Weike Wang’s first novel, Chemistry, on this blog—I predicted “Weike Wang is an author to watch.” Indeed, Wang has since produced two more well-received novels focusing on the experiences of Chinese American women. In this post, I offer recaps of my reviews of Chemistry and of Wang’s second novel, Joan Is Okay, plus a brand new review of her third book, Rental House. In all her novels, Wang makes her readers think hard about the role of immigrants in American society, about the difficulties that women (of any race) face in choosing careers, and about the tensions between the personal and the professional in the lives of talented people.

Chemistry     Weike Wang     (2017)  The unnamed first-person narrator in Chemistry is a young woman heading into her final year of a doctoral program in chemistry at a prestigious university. She’s Chinese American, brought to the United States as a young child. Boyfriend Eric is a white guy who is just embarking on what will undoubtedly be a rewarding academic career. He wants to marry the narrator, but she demurs, worried about forfeiting her intellectual capacity. Added to this tension is a side plot about the narrator’s best friend, a physician in New York, who talks to the narrator frequently on the phone. Should the narrator marry Eric, a man very well suited to her personality and intelligence, even though he can never fully understand her family’s culture and language? If she doesn’t pursue chemistry, what should she do with her life? And if she moves to the Midwest to follow Eric, should she take her comical, untrainable dog with her? Chemistry doesn’t give readers all the answers, but that’s its charm.

Joan is Okay     Weike Wang     (2022)  All of us know what’s going to happen in the intensive care units of hospitals in New York City in the spring of 2020. We know that ICU physicians like Joan are going to be in the thick of the COVID pandemic. But in 2019, Joan can’t predict this. She’s dealing instead with the expectations of her boss (who rewards her workaholism) as well as the expectations of her Chinese American family (who want her to get married and have kids). She also has a strangely intrusive neighbor and an oddball work colleague. Still, Joan is okay, even when COVID hits. This short novel packs a punch.

Rental House     Weike Wang     (2024)  Keru and Nate met at Yale, married several years later, and settled in New York City. One summer, when the two are in their mid-thirties and doing well in their careers, they decide to rent a house on Cape Cod, inviting their parents to spend separate weeks with them and their large sheepdog. In-law relationships can be fraught, especially so when one set of parents (Keru’s) is Chinese American and one (Nate’s) is Appalachian American. Needless to say, the vacation is not smooth sailing. In the second section of Rental House, we skip ahead five years, as Keru and Nate hit age 40 and rent a vacation house in the Catskills. The same cultural clashes take place, and new marital challenges arise. Wang’s prose style is spare and droll, her dialogues are sharp, and her psychological insights are penetrating.

Author Spotlight: Elizabeth Strout

Long-time followers of this blog will have read several reviews of the fiction of Elizabeth Strout over the past eight years. In this post, I offer an overview of all of her books, focusing on the two main strands: books about the character Olive Kitteridge and books about the character Lucy Barton. I include a new review of Strout’s 2024 novel, Tell Me Everything, in which these two strands are braided together.

In my opinion, you can read anything by Elizabeth Strout and you won’t be disappointed. But for maximum enjoyment of the character development, read in the order of publication.

THE OLIVE KITTERIDGE BOOKS

Olive Kitteridge  (2008)  In a Pulitzer-winning collection of linked short stories, Strout introduced an indomitable retired schoolteacher from the fictional rural town of Crosby, Maine. This book was turned into a four-part HBO miniseries in 2014.

Olive, Again  (2019)  The sequel to Olive Kitteridge comes in the form of thirteen more stories that unpeel life in small-town New England. The cranky, candid Olive, who weaves in and out of the tales, is sometimes intolerant but often kind. When her kindness is awkwardly expressed and causes offense, she’s surprised, and she tries to rectify her behavior. The other characters in Olive, Again are townspeople whom Olive interacts with in some way. Their lives are intertwined with each other and with the inevitable sadnesses and transgressions and occasional triumphs of living on this Earth. The surroundings of the town can reflect the despair of the inhabitants, yet it’s not all bleakness. Strout's characters can also connect with the natural world in a way that lifts their spirits, if only briefly.

Three other novels by Strout have characters connected to Olive Kitteridge or rural Maine:  Amy and Isabelle (1998), Abide with Me (2006), and The Burgess Boys (2013).

THE LUCY BARTON BOOKS

My Name is Lucy Barton  (2016)  The titular Lucy is a writer in New York City in the 1980s, with a husband and two young daughters. When Lucy is hospitalized for many weeks with a mysterious illness, her estranged mother travels from Illinois to her bedside. The two women reach an uneasy peace with each other, especially as they tell stories about the folks back home, in the (fictional) Amgash, the depressed rural town where Lucy grew up in extreme poverty.

Anything Is Possible  (2017)  In these linked short stories, the character Lucy Barton has become an acclaimed writer. Chicago is one of the stops on Lucy’s book-promotion tour, so she visits her home town of Amgash, Illinois, to see her siblings. We get much more detail about the childhood suffering of the Barton kids—details that were glossed over and somewhat sanitized in My Name is Lucy Barton. Strout toys with the vagaries of memory in both books, and the power of money emerges as another theme. Lucy has lived the up-by-her-bootstraps version of the American dream—getting into college and building a successful career. Others in her small town remain impoverished, with their share of miseries, including sexual abuse and mental illness. The prose is this book is spare, with every word well chosen. The emotions are raw but presented with subtle empathy.

Oh William! (2021) is another book in the Lucy Barton series, about Lucy’s first husband, whom she reconnects with after the death of her second husband.

Lucy by the Sea  (2022)  In this novel, it’s now early March 2020, and Lucy’s ex-husband, William, insists that they leave New York City for a rental house on the coast of Maine. (He’s a scientist who recognizes how dangerous the coronavirus is.) This town in Maine happens to be Crosby, where the character Olive Kitteridge, from Strout’s other books, lives. In first-person narrative, Lucy details the interactions she has with some of the residents of Crosby during 2020 and early 2021. Strout excels in examining the complexities of the human condition, and Lucy by the Sea is the first discussion of the pandemic I’ve read that truly captures the sense of desperation and loneliness that the pandemic wrought.

OLIVE FINALLY MEETS LUCY!

Tell Me Everything  (2024)  We’re back in Crosby, Maine, in 2022-2023, and Strout’s two strong female characters, Olive Kitteridge and Lucy Barton, come face to face at last. Olive, now in an assisted living facility, regales Lucy with odd tales from her long life. Meanwhile, attorney Bob Burgess (from Strout’s 2013 novel The Burgess Boys) agrees to represent a local man who is suspected of murdering his mother. This murder mystery threads through the book and involves even more characters from Strout’s previous fiction. Some national reviewers of Tell Me Everything have complained that it’s rambling and unfocused. I disagree. I took it as a genre-cross between a novel and a collection of short stories and found it so riveting that I read it in one long afternoon. The clear theme is enunciated on page 292: “’What is the point of anyone’s life?’” Strout challenges her readers to think hard on this question.

A Grab Bag of Recent Novels

Leaving     Roxana Robinson     (2024)  A man and a woman meet by chance at a performance of the opera Tosca in New York City. Sarah, retired and long divorced, volunteers in the art world. Warren, a practicing architect, is unhappily married. They were romantically involved nearly forty years before, when they were both in college, but have not seen each other since then. Flashes of remembrances and of possibilities ensue. Why did they break up? Were they really soulmates who should have been together all those years? Is there such a thing as “soulmates”? The personal and family complications that arise from their renewed liaison are presented in sensitive and devastating detail.

The Five-Star Weekend     Elin Hilderbrand     (2023)  Escape to the island of Nantucket, off the coast of Cape Cod, for another of Hilderbrand’s beach-based, gossipy escapades. This time, the recently widowed fifty-something Hollis Shaw gathers four friends (one from each phase of her life) for a weekend of companionship and gourmet dining, to help her move through her grief. All the friends have their own back stories and secrets, and their lives have intersected with Hollis’s life in surprising ways. I was inundated by the many references to designer clothes, pop music, fine wines, and Nantucket restaurants, but I still buzzed happily through this lightweight novel. I’ve reviewed a number of other Hilderbrand offerings, including 28 Summers, Summer of ’69, and Endless Summer.

Mercury     Amy Jo Burch     (2023)  Next, step into the rural western Pennsylvania town of Mercury in the 1990s and meet the Joseph family:

• Mick (patriarch, expert roofer, weirdo)

• Elise (matriarch, frustrated housewife)

• Sons Bay, Way, and Shay (I’m not making this up)

• Marley (who arrives in town as a teenager and becomes enmeshed in the lives of the Josephs)

The introspective musings of these characters can go on at length, but the family dynamics are fascinating, within a plot that takes many unexpected turns. There’s a subplot with Marley’s friend Jade, a dead body that causes lots of consternation, and a harrowing denouement. Questions that the novelist seems to be asking: Which family secrets do you keep and which do you reveal? What do you sacrifice as an individual to be part of a family? Where does love come in?

Repeat Performances

In this post, I review contemporary novels by two authors—Tracey Lange and Dominic Smith—whose previous novels I enjoyed.

The Connellys of County Down     Tracey Lange     (2023)  Let’s clear up one thing right away:  This novel is not set in Ireland, even though I ordered it from my local library thinking it was. Instead, the action takes place in Port Chester, New York, about an hour’s drive northeast of Manhattan. Many of the characters are Irish Americans, and some of their relatives came from County Down in Ireland, hence the novel’s title. Irish folk tales and family stories weave through the narrative, but the main thread is a family-based mystery involving three adult siblings and their secrets. Geraldine, the oldest, is an accounting manager who is in over her head at work and who is still suffering from the effects of having spent her teen years raising her sister and brother. That brother, Eddie, sustained a traumatic brain injury in his youth and is struggling to raise a son as a single parent. But Tara is the sibling who elicits reader sympathy the most. She’s just out of prison, where she was serving a sentence for an offense that was really not her doing. These working-class Connellys live on the edge of poverty in a wealthy New York exurb. The novelist animates them lovingly, faults and all, and constructs a plot that had me racing to the denouement.

In 2022 I posted this brief summary of Lange’s previous novel: 

We Are the Brennans     Tracey Lange     (2021) Moving the plot along mostly through convincing dialog, Lange creates a vivid picture of the present-day Brennan family, pub owners in a town north of NYC. An estranged adult daughter comes home to recover after a serious car accident and gets retangled in family life, with some mystery and some romance enlivening things. The character names are odd, but the story is a winner. 

Return to Valetto Dominic Smith (2023) Hugh Fisher, a middle-aged history professor who studies abandoned villages in Italy, is himself Italian American. In his youth, he often visited the nearly deserted village of his ancestors, the (fictitious) Valetto, where his grandmother and widowed aunts, the Serafinos, still live. When Hugh arrives in Valetto on sabbatical in 2011, he finds that the cottage he inherited is already occupied, by Elisa Tomassi. She’s a chef from Milan who claims that the cottage was actually left to her family as thanks for the aid that they gave Hugh’s grandfather during World War II. From this beginning, the novel movingly explores many facets of grief and abandonment:  Hugh is a widower who has also recently lost his mother; Hugh’s grandfather left the family during the war and never returned; Elisa’s famed restaurant burned down, and her husband decamped to London with their son. Truths from Italy’s fascist past come to light and are dealt with at the celebration of Grandmother Serafino’s hundredth birthday. The themes of Return to Valetto overlap with those in another novel by the talented Dominic Smith, The Last Painting of Sara De Vos, which I reviewed at length in 2017.

Author Spotlight: Richard Russo

I’m always assured of a good read when Richard Russo’s name is on the cover. Russo has the capacity to explore the internal musings of his blue-collar characters while advancing a complicated plot, so he gets me totally invested in his characters’ happiness. Of course, not everyone in our world ends up happy.

• The Fool Trilogy

Back in 1993, Russo published Nobody’s Fool, which turned out to be the first in a series of novels all set in the decaying upstate New York town of New Bath. It helps if you read the three novels in order, but you can pick up the story anywhere along the line.

In Nobody’s Fool, set in 1984, Russo introduced Donald Sullivan, called “Sully.” At age 60, Sully has survived a number of setbacks in his rather dissolute life, but he’s buoyed by his wacky friends. (The movie adaptation of this novel starred a cantankerous Paul Newman.)

Everybody’s Fool, which came out in 2016, is set a decade after Nobody’s Fool. Russo enlarges the cast of characters and presents a flurry of incidents—sometimes hilarious and sometimes pitiable—over a two-day period.

The recently published Somebody’s Fool (2023) is the third installment. Russo moves far ahead in time, to the 2010s. Sully is dead, but his son Peter, now middle-aged, is one of the main characters. Many other folks from the previous two novels are also still around. New Bath has been annexed by the nearby Schuyler Springs, creating multiple plot threads. And, over one weekend in February, a decomposing body is found in an abandoned hotel, an estranged son returns to town, police brutality incidents are revealed, and the romantic entanglements of several couples are altered. There’s never a dull moment!

Prominent among the life lessons embedded in Somebody’s Fool is this one: when life gets tough, you have to try something. If that doesn’t work, you have to try something else. And the overall narrative theme of the novel? “How complex and multilayered even the simplest of lives [are], how they [intersect] in strange, unpredictable ways, people magically appearing at just the right moment, others turning up at the exact wrong one, often giving the impression that fate must be at work, though in all probability it was little more than chance.” (345). I loved Russo’s unconventional characters so much that I did not want this lengthy novel to end.

• The Pulitzer Winner

Russo won the Pulitzer Prize in 2002 for Empire Falls, which broke my heart two decades ago. The novel centers on Miles Roby, manager of the Empire Diner, and the other inhabitants of a dying town in Maine. Empire Falls is a must-read in the Russo canon, and there’s a star-studded television mini-series (2005) based on it.

• Other Russo Offerings

I’ve reviewed a number of Richard Russo’s other writings, both fiction and nonfiction, on this blog in the past. Check out my comments on Elsewhere, That Old Cape Magic, and The Destiny Thief, and my lengthier review of Chances Are . . .

For fans of the contemporary American novel, Richard Russo is essential.

Settings: Traverse City, St Louis, Chicago

Tom Lake     Ann Patchett     (2023)  In 2020, at the start of the pandemic, three young adult daughters of a family are hunkered down at their childhood home, a cherry and apple farm in Michigan, helping harvest the crops. They beg their mother to tell the full story of her summer romance with movie star Peter Duke, which took place back in 1988 when Duke was a struggling young actor. The mother obliges, and the novel toggles between 1988 and 2020. Much of the plot centers on stage productions of Thornton Wilder’s play Our Town, so if you haven’t read or seen the play in a while, it will help if you brush up before starting Tom Lake. That said, the unfolding of the mother’s tale and its connection to the family’s status more than 30 years later are engrossing, with small and large revelations along the way. Novelist Patchett could ask for compensation from the Michigan Travel Commission, given her glowing descriptions of the state’s natural beauty, especially the area around Traverse City, in the northwest quadrant of the Lower Peninsula. (See my review of another Patchett novel here.)

The Altruists     Andrew Ridker     (2019)  An untenured visiting/adjunct professor at a fictitious university in St Louis asks his two adult children to come home from NYC for a weekend. It’s not because he misses them—he’s facing unemployment and needs to have funds from them to bail out the mortgage on the family home. This intimate family drama looks back on pivotal scenes from the 1970s to the recent past, exploring issues of grief, parenting, and, yes, altruism. What do we want to make of our lives? How do we look back from our later years on our choices? How do our finances enter in? Arthur Alter and his children Ethan and Maggie try to answer all these questions as they grope for closure after the death of the matriarch of the family, Francine. Quibbles: I do wish that the novelist’s editor had axed some of his many flawed uses of the word “begrudging.” And the depiction of Maggie’s self-sacrificing lifestyle is somewhat mocking. Overall, though, this is a well-crafted, thought-provoking study of family dynamics.  

Wellness     Nathan Hill     (2023)  I noted in my review of Nathan Hill’s previous novel, The Nix, that Hill is exceedingly verbose. He hasn’t trimmed it down any in Wellness, but I still read all 597 pages, even his 45-page treatise (gasp) on the algorithms of Facebook. The novel’s main characters, Jack and Elizabeth, are very endearing people, whom we first meet when they are in college in Chicago in the early 1990s. I kept reading to find out how they fared over the years, in their relationship and in their city. Some chapters travel back to their childhoods, but the focus of the novel is in the early 2010s, when Jack and Elizabeth are approaching middle age and dealing with finances, parenting, and careers. (He’s an adjunct art professor, and she’s a researcher in psychology.) In some ways, Wellness is a profoundly sad book, but the novelist probes deeply into his characters’ psyches, and those characters prove resilient even in the face of tragedy.

Three Contemporary Novels

Recently my longsuffering husband has hauled home large stacks of novels from our local library for me. Most of them have headed right back to the drop box. But I’ve found a few great titles about contemporary life, reviewed here for your consideration!

The Marsh Queen     Virginia Hartman     (2022)  Bird artist Loni is settled in Washington, DC, working at the Smithsonian, when she gets word that her mother has dementia and must go into assisted living. Loni drives to her home town in northern Florida to help her brother clear out the family home. What she thinks will be a two-week stay keeps getting extended, as she reacquaints herself with the flora and fauna of the marshes, swamps, and lakes of her childhood and tries to unravel the secrets around the death of her father, which occurred decades in the past. The action in this novel, told in first-person narration, builds to a startling (and, fair warning, violent) denouement. I found the descriptions of steamy, lush, leafy wildernesses to be suggestive of Delia Owens’s Where the Crawdads Sing (reviewed here), and indeed, like that novel, The Marsh Queen is a complex mystery tale that also features a romance subplot. Thanks to Meg McCarthy for recommending this book!

Take What You Need     Idry Novey     (2023)  Two voices speak in first-person in this novel. Leah describes her car trip to the home of her estranged stepmother, Jean, in the Allegheny Mountains of Appalachia. In alternate chapters, we hear from Jean, who lives in a ramshackle house filled with the unusual metal artwork she’s created. Time moves back and forth, enlarging the reader’s understanding of these two characters, as the storyline progresses toward Leah’s confrontation, after Jean’s death, with Jean’s house full of sculptures. What I found much more intriguing than the plot, however, was the depiction of the difference between the two women in their attitudes toward the political divide in the United States. Jean is surrounded by people scratching out a precarious existence in a blighted town, and she treats her neighbors with kindness, even as she disagrees with their devotion to Trump. But Leah, removed from her comfortable urban milieu, is disgusted by the poverty of Appalachia and is terrified of its inhabitants. Does Leah change her views at all? Read this novel, and see what you think.

Godspeed     Nickolas Butler    (2021)  I’ve reviewed two of Butler’s previous novels, The Hearts of Men and Little Faith, so I know that he’s not afraid to tackle tough issues in his fiction. In Godspeed, he lays bare unchecked capitalism, income inequality, and addiction. The three main characters are partners in True Triangle Construction, in Wyoming. Cole is the competent, take-charge businessman, though his personal life is a shambles, since his wife has left him. Teddy, on the other hand, has a loving marriage and four kids. He’s a solid citizen and a committed Mormon, but he doesn’t always follow all the rules of his religion. Bart—well, Bart is the one with the addiction problem. All three men are skilled carpenters and contractors, but they’re barely getting by financially on small-scale renovation jobs. Then an ultra-wealthy woman offers them a chance to build her a magnificent house high in the mountains. The catch is that they have four months to complete the project if they want the substantial bonus she’s offering. As the clock ticks, more and more details of the unusual project, and of the characters’ backstories, emerge. I stayed up late into the night to finish this stunning novel, so I’ll warn you that there are some graphic scenes of violence that may give you nightmares.

Contemporary Novels by Reliable Authors

Lucy by the Sea     Elizabeth Strout     (2022)  Pulitzer-winner Strout has helped her readers examine many of the complexities of the human condition in her eight previous highly acclaimed books. Now, in Lucy by the Sea, she looks at the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic, through the eyes of Lucy Barton (a character she’s developed in My Name is Lucy Barton, Anything is Possible, and Oh William). Lucy’s ex-husband, William, is a scientist who sees how dangerous the coronavirus is. In early March 2020, he insists that Lucy leave New York City for a rental house on the coast of Maine. In first-person narrative, Lucy details the interactions she has with family and friends during 2020 and early 2021. Lucy by the Sea is the first discussion of the pandemic I’ve read that truly captures the sense of desperation and loneliness that the pandemic has wrought. One quote: “I could not stop feeling that life as I had known it was gone.” (245)

The Master Bedroom     Tessa Hadley     (2007)  Kate Flynn is brilliant, brash, and beautiful—never boring. She takes a leave from her teaching job in London and goes back to her home town in Wales to care for her elderly mother, who has dementia. Kate’s entanglement in the lives of old friends allows the author to explore the complexities of desire, ambition, and generational ties. I’ve been bingeing on the well-crafted books by Britain’s Tessa Hadley; they are among my favorites, as you can see in this recent post.

The Sweet Remnants of Summer     Alexander McCall Smith     (2022)  In this 14th offering in the Isabel Dalhousie series, it’s a warm September in Edinburgh. Isabel and her “dishy” husband, Jamie, get themselves involved as mediators—or possibly interveners—in two interpersonal dramas in the worlds of art, music, and wine. Glimpses of Isabel’s personal life, and of her job as editor of a philosophy journal, punctuate the gentle, easygoing story. I’ve reviewed novels in this series previously. The setting and the characters rank high for me in McCall Smith’s voluminous catalog of titles.

Among My Faves: Tessa Hadley

British author Tessa Hadley’s writing just keeps getting better with each successive book that she produces. Her plots focus on families, marital relationships, friendship, and the impact of grief. Her characters are primarily middle-class or upper-middle-class British people who are artists or writers or teachers. I find her prose to be both lucid and rich in its deep searches into motivation, desire, and personality. In this review, I take a look at two of Hadley’s books.

Bad Dreams and Other Stories (2017) is a collection of ten short stories, seven of which appeared previously in the New Yorker magazine. To give you a sense of Hadley’s writing, here are selected quotes from four of the stories:

From “An Abduction” 

“Something was revealed in her that was normally hidden: an auburn light in her face, her freckles startling as the camouflage of an animal, blotting up against her lips and eyelids. . . Her family called her pudgy, but she just looked soft, as if she were longing to nestle.” (9) 

From “Bad Dreams” 

“In the lounge, the child paddled her toes in the hair of the white goatskin rug. Gleaming, uncanny, half reverted to its animal past, the rug yearned to the moon, which was balanced on top of the wall at the back of the paved yard.” (118) 

From “Under the Sign of the Moon”

“All the time he was setting out these platitudes with such solemnity, Greta felt sure that they weren’t the real content of his thoughts, just as her own sceptical, condescending cleverness when she argued with him wasn’t the real content of her thoughts either. This conversation took place on the surface, while their real lives were hidden underground beneath it, crouching, listening out, mutely attentive.” (185) 

From “Silk Brocade”

“.  . . on the white walls there were prints of paintings by Klee and Utrillo and a gilt antique mirror with a plant trailing round it. Morning light waited, importantly empty, in the cheval glass.” (205) 

In Hadley’s 2019 novel, Late in the Day, two couples have been friends for decades and are now in their fifties. At the beginning of the book, Lydia’s husband, Zachary, dies suddenly. In deep shock and grief, Lydia comes to stay with Alex and Christine. Hadley explores how each of the three misses Zachary desperately, but she also delves into the interpersonal relationships of all four characters—relationships that have evolved through many changes in their lives. For this she shifts back and forth in time, looking at pivotal events. Again, I offer some key quotations:

“Marriage simply meant that you hung on to each other through the succession of metamorphoses. Or failed to.” (118)

“Both women felt some balance of power in their lives had been restored in relation to their men, after the initial blow of becoming mother to young babies, which had knocked them back; now their children filled them out rather than depleting them.” (161) 

“And we were terribly bored by the Manifesto, couldn’t understand a word of it, we preferred historical novels, really. (236) 

Earlier short story collections by Tessa Hadley include Sunstroke and Other Stories (2007) and Married Love and Other Stories (2013). Earlier novels are Accidents in the Home (2002), Everything Will Be All Right (2003), The Master Bedroom (2007), The London Train (2011), Clever Girl (2013), The Past (2015), and Free Love (2022). I’ve reviewed Free Love on this blog.

Add some of these titles to your list of books to buy or to request from your library!

44 Scotland Street, Again

The Peppermint Tea Chronicles     Alexander McCall Smith     (2019)

I’m an admitted partisan of Alexander McCall Smith’s mellow, good-humored novels. The prolific writer churns out several new books every year, and I’ve reviewed many of them on this blog.

The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency Series (with the most titles) recounts the mild adventures of Precious Ramotswe in Botswana, where McCall Smith lived for many years.

The Isabel Dalhousie Series follows the life of a professional philosopher who is also an amateur detective, living in Edinburgh.

My absolute favorite, also set in Edinburgh, is The 44 Scotland Street Series, with its wacky ensemble cast of characters.

The latest, and thirteenth, in the 44 Scotland Street Series is The Peppermint Tea Chronicles. It does not disappoint. As I’ve done with other novels in this series, I called my husband to listen to me read paragraphs that are laugh-aloud funny. The character I love most is young Bertie Pollock, who has transitioned very, very slowly from age five to age seven as the novels have appeared. Young Bertie is so sweet and sincere that you can’t help but root for him when he gets into a pickle, as he often does. To me, he represents all that is good in the world, trying to survive in the face of callousness and exploitation.

As usual, McCall Smith dispenses plenty of nuggets of simple wisdom, like this one: “Older people told long stories that younger people found dull. Everybody knew that, except for older people.” (143)

And he displays his support for feminism, both in his portrayal of female characters and in their dialogue and musings. Here is Elspeth, the mother of triplet toddlers: “Why should masculinity be thoughtless or indifferent to the feelings of others? There were plenty of men, she felt, who did not want to be hard-hearted or unfeeling; there were plenty of men who felt the pain of others, who wanted to do something about it, who wanted to comfort those in need of comfort. Yet there were rather more, she suspected, who did not.” (186)

When the political headlines of the day are getting you down, steer right toward your local library for a McCall Smith book (filed under “M,” not “S”). The 44 Scotland Street Series is best read in the order that the books were written, but McCall Smith’s other series can be read more as stand-alone novels, since he always fills in character background briefly.

A Mystery in the Cotswolds

A Bitter Feast     Deborah Crombie     (2019)

I love a good mystery, so I can’t figure out how I’ve missed Deborah Crombie’s offerings all these years. A Bitter Feast is her eighteenth book in the series of novels about Detective Inspector Gemma James and Detective Superintendent Duncan Kincaid, two present-day Scotland Yard police officers. The series began way back in 1993! What’s more amazing to me is that Crombie is from Texas, and currently lives in Texas, but she writes effortlessly about British cops and British customs. As an American, maybe I’m missing some of the subtle errors that a native Briton would catch, but Crombie is pretty convincing to my mind.

In A Bitter Feast, Gemma and Duncan, along with their three children, are off in the Cotswolds for a weekend visiting the family of a colleague. The Cotswolds region of Britain has long been designated an “Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty,” with its rolling hills and historic buildings constructed from the local golden-colored limestone. So the novelist takes the opportunity to describe bucolic scenery and the glowing of that Cotswold stone in the late afternoon sun. The mystery arises from a car accident: at first the accident seems to have been caused simply by driver error at a dark intersection, but further investigation reveals more nefarious activities. Gemma and Duncan join forces with the village police to gather evidence. The mystery plot itself would make A Bitter Feast worth reading, but there’s a lot more to enjoy.

The “feast” of the title is a gourmet charity luncheon catered by a chef who runs the town pub, which has become a tourist hotspot for its food menu. This chef, Viv Holland, was on a path to becoming a celebrity in London when she mysteriously decamped to the countryside. Viv’s culinary skills are highlighted, and her employment history becomes part of the investigative mix. Small touches work well; for example, Gemma and Duncan’s teen son, who helps out in the kitchen, may have a potential career path in the restaurant industry.

The plot is moved along in large part by dialogue, and fine dialogue it is. I got a good sense of the main actors even though I haven’t read any of the previous Gemma-and-Duncan mysteries—Crombie provides enough background detail for readers just picking up the series. I’d label this novel a cross between a police procedural mystery and a cozy mystery, with the rural setting enhancing the cozy side.

I already have some early volumes by Crombie on order from my district library, so stay tuned to the Cedar Park Book Blog for further reviews. For mysteries by other authors, click the category in the right-hand column.

Youth Traveling with Old Age

Akin     Emma Donaghue     (2019)

The premise of this novel is unusual, stretching credibility a bit. Noah Selvaggio, a recently retired chemistry professor in Manhattan, is about to leave for a solo trip to Nice, in the French Riviera, to celebrate his 80th birthday. Two complications arise. First, in clearing out a box of family memorabilia, Noah comes across a group of odd photographs that seem to have been taken in Nice during World War II. Second, a social worker phones Noah to ask him to become a temporary foster parent to his eleven-year-old-nephew, Michael, whom he’s never met. Michael’s father is dead, his mother is in prison, and his maternal grandmother, with whom he had been living, has just died. Noah decides to take Michael along on his European vacation, since it would be expensive to cancel the trip altogether.

Several plot lines move the story forward. In Nice, Noah is trying to figure out why his mother would have taken those photographs in Nazi-occupied Nice. He himself was born in Nice and lived there until he was about four, so he’s conjuring up early memories, grasping for obscure French words, and remembering his beloved grandfather, who was a famed photographer. Noah is also thinking through the mysterious circumstances of the death of Michael’s father.

But mainly Noah is trying to get along with Michael, which is particularly challenging because Noah and his late wife had no children of their own. Noah has little knowledge of the digital world into which Michael was born—a point that the many dialogue exchanges between Noah and Michael highlight. For example, when Michael asks about the availability of wi-fi, Noah hears it as a question about his deceased wife, whom he dearly misses.

Both Michael and Noah are alone, but they are “akin” in a world where each has lost most of his family connections. On this trip they’re together, in a foreign place, forced to rely on each other. (In this way, Akin has some similarities to Donaghue’s blockbuster novel-and-movie Room, about a mother and her son kept captive together in a shed by a deranged rapist. Akin, however, is not at all horrifying.) Noah and Michael roam the tourist sites during the Carnaval de Nice, an annual festival, gradually learning each other’s vocabulary and interests and tastes in food.

The sub-plots in the novel are wrapped up pretty tidily, but don’t expect a dramatic happily-ever-after for the protagonists in Akin. Instead Donaghue paints a realistic and satisfying picture of the possibilities for a little less loneliness for both Noah and Michael.

Prescriptivist vs Descriptivist

The Grammarians     Cathleen Schine     (2019)

In the esoteric reaches of English language studies, a debate rages. Should there be unwavering standards for English writing and speech, or should we let the language take its own course and change with it? I’ve oversimplified, certainly, this battle between the prescriptivists and the descriptivists, but I live with it every day in my own house, since I’m a moderate descriptivist who is married to an extreme prescriptivist. My husband gets nearly apoplectic at “wrong” usage of a past participle or a comma. In his defense, he’s just adhering to the principles we’ve both learned from Fowler’s Modern English Usage and The Chicago Manual of Style. Really, any guide to current grammar or usage or definitions is inherently prescriptivist, since it’s setting criteria of reference.

In Cathleen Schine’s novel The Grammarians, the prescriptivist/descriptivist debate causes a dramatic rift between the identical twin sisters Laurel and Daphne. The girls grow up in the 1960s loving words, inventing a language to speak to each other, and actually trying to take Webster's New International Dictionary, Second Edition to bed with them. They are always keenly competitive, but as they make their way in the adult world of 1980s New York City, their paths diverge, with one becoming a free-wheeling poet and one a columnist famed for her prescriptivist pronouncements.

The rantings on both sides are witty, sparking this short novel along after a few  slower-moving initial chapters. I was taken with some of the comparisons. For example: “[The renowned grammarian] Fowler, gallant and chivalrous, call[ed] for the rescue of words that were ‘cruelly used’! As if they were running into the fog, shivering on the London streets, clutching pitifully at their thin shawls” (182)

One twin believes that “’there is no standard English, language keeps changing. And to understand language and teach it, you have to know what is actually spoken.’” (209) Later in the book she decides that “even the dictionary is arbitrary, trying to capture contingency, to enchain syllables, to lash the wind.” (234)

The other twin says of her estranged sister, “The last time we spoke she called me a prescriptivist! You know what that is? A person who cares about proper language usage. A person who cares about the rules of grammar.” (217)

Yet, in the face of the loss of a loved one, the prescriptivist sister laments: “There were no words for what she felt, the depth of the emptiness, the breadth of the emptiness, the emptiness of the emptiness. Words could only cloak what she felt. Words were supposed to illuminate and clarify. Words were meant to communicate information and feelings from one person to another. But today words stood numb and in the way.” (238)

The grammatical division between the twins clashes with their identicalness. But I think that when the novelist assigns these two opposing viewpoints to identical twins she may be pointing to the way that prescriptivism and descriptivism are two panels of a diptych. Rules and regulations help us all to have common ground in understanding exactly (not approximately) what others are speaking or writing. And acceptance of change in language is also inevitable. That’s why we don’t all speak and write the way Chaucer did in the fourteenth century!

Men. Hunting. Way Up North

Hunter’s Moon     Philip Caputo     (2019)

In seven linked short stories, Philip Caputo summons up the wild allure of the far northern regions of the United States. Six of the seven stories take place in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, which hovers around the 46th parallel of latitude, and the seventh is set even farther north, in Alaska. Hunting and fishing are the prime attractions of Caputo’s settings. Each story revolves in some way around these outdoor sports: the appeal of rugged terrain, the terror of getting lost, and (yes) the reality of weapons violence.

I don’t hunt, and I don’t understand the technicalities of rifles, but as you read Hunter’s Moon you can set those components aside and revel in Caputo’s descriptions of the natural world, like these: 

• “The sky lightens from the gray of old asphalt to oyster and snuffs out the stars one by one until all are hidden in a canopy of brilliant blue. A hoarfrost glitters on the brown bracken fern matting the clearing across which the white pine’s shadow lies like a fallen spear.” (61)

• “This is a silence never broken by humanity’s clatter; it is layered, dense, virgin, alien—a disquieting quiet, if you will. All the otherness of the natural world is in it—a world complete unto itself, independent of man’s endeavor’s and conflicts, his plans, schemes, joys, griefs, his egoistic certainty that he is a child of God.” (133)

You can move past the brief scenes of violence in Hunter’s Moon, but you can’t escape Caputo’s exploration of distressing aspects of male experience. Characters include military veterans who suffer PTSD from combat and fathers and sons who have fraught relationships. Here’s one father, speaking about his son, who is on a hunting trip in Alaska after having been expelled from college: 

• “Being a male of the old school, the kind who prefers back slaps to bro hugs, I would welcome a mood of active aggressiveness, an air-clearing, spleen-blowing flight, albeit one that doesn’t turn physical. . . I’m a fifty-six-year-old Russian literature professor who hasn’t been in a scrap since I was his age, and maybe younger.” (113)

One particular character, Will Treadwell, appears in five of the seven stories and lends a unifying presence as he transitions from owning a small-town bar and craft brewery into retirement. Only one female character, appearing in two of the seven stories, has a substantial role, but I’m okay with that. Caputo’s understanding of his male characters is deep and rich. And, along with the best nature writers, he captures the very feel of those remote northern forests.   

For similar themes and settings, read my reviews of Susan Bernhard’s Winter Loon, Leif Enger’s Virgil Wander, and Nickolas Butler’s The Hearts of Men.

More by Elizabeth Strout

Olive, Again     Elizabeth Strout     (2019)

Olive is back, and you won’t want to miss her return.

Elizabeth Strout, the queen of linked short stories, has produced a sequel that matches or exceeds her Pulitzer-winning Olive Kitteridge of 2008. In thirteen succinct stories, each of which can absolutely stand alone, Strout unpeels life in the fictional rural town of Crosby, Maine. The crusty, candid Olive—a character in most of the stories—is sometimes intolerant and cranky but often kind. When her kindness is awkwardly expressed and causes offense, she’s surprised, and she tries to rectify her behavior. She’s mellowed as she’s aged.

The other characters in Olive, Again are townspeople whom Olive interacts with in some way. Their lives are intertwined with each other and with the inevitable sadnesses and transgressions and occasional triumphs of living on this Earth. There’s unfaithfulness, pedophilia, disease, and death (especially by suicide) aplenty. The surroundings of the town can reflect the despair of the inhabitants:

• “Around them a sudden gust of wind sent a few twigs swirling, and muddy plastic bag that had been run over a number of times rose slightly, then dropped back to the ground among slushy car tracks from the old snow.”(120)

• “As Denny approached the river, and could see in the moonlight how the river was moving quickly, he felt as though his life had been a piece of bark on that river, just going along, not thinking at all. Headed toward the waterfall.” (142)

Yet it’s not all bleakness. Strout's characters can also connect with the natural world in a way that lifts their spirits, if only briefly:

• “The field was darkening, the trees behind it were like pieces of black canvas, but the sky still sent down the sun, which sliced gently across the grass on the far end of the field.” (17)

The stories, which take place the very recent past, span more than a decade of Olive’s retirement from her school-teaching job. Early in the book, when she’s still mourning the loss of her husband, she marries for a second time. I was shocked by this plot development, not the least because Olive did not seem to me like someone who’d be considered a prize mate. I could hear Strout gently chiding me for my belittling thought. Though Olive doesn’t possess physical beauty and can be irksome in her bluntness, she is unfailingly honest. Honesty is a rare trait, and her second husband recognizes this.

Please read this book. It will open your eyes to components of the human condition that you’ve never thought about before. 

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I’ve reviewed two other excellent Strout linked-story novels: My Name is Lucy Barton (2016) and its sequel, Anything is Possible (2017), set in New York City and rural Illinois respectively.

Another Great Horowitz Mystery

The Sentence Is Death     Anthony Horowitz     (2019)

I’m unabashedly a fan of Anthony Horowitz’s mystery novels. On this blog I’ve reviewed his 2017 offering, Magpie Murders, as well as the first of his metafictional Daniel Hawthorne mysteries, The Word is Murder (2018). With The Sentence Is Death, Horowitz presents the second volume that features the private detective Hawthorne, a former police officer now hired by the police to help on particularly challenging murder cases.

As with The Word is Murder, The Sentence Is Death features as first-person narrator a character named Anthony Horowitz, who bears a startling resemblance to the real-life Anthony Horowitz in his work life and in his family configuration—hence, metafiction. Watch for zingers that play off the insertion of the author into his own fiction. For example, the fictional Horowitz notes that Jill Green, actual wife of the author Horowitz, “has made it clear that she’s uncomfortable being a character in my book. Unfortunately, truth is what it’s all about.” (303) Uh, “truth” in this case is a fictional narrative about a fictional murder.

The case involves the murder of a prominent divorce lawyer in London, with red herrings and potential suspects abounding. Key clues include an overheard doorway conversation shortly before the murder and the number “182” painted on the wall near the corpse. Throughout his writing career the author Horowitz has been captivated by word play—mistaken similar names, anagrams, homonyms, crosswords, multiple meanings, and such. Word play often has an important plot function in the episodes of Foyle’s War, the World War II mystery series (2002-2015) that he wrote for British television. Fictional Horowitz also loves words, as he transcribes the details of the murder case that Hawthorne is investigating in The Sentence Is Death. Hawthorne says to fictional Horowitz, “You’ll choose all the right words and you’ll make it come to life. There’s no way I could do anything like that. Which is why it’s such a great partnership. I do the legwork. You do the rest.” (358)

Fictional Horowitz also chastises writers who break the “fair-play rule” of mysteries:  “Whenever Hawthorne saw anything or worked something out, he deliberately kept it from me as if the whole thing was some sort of game. This is often the case in detective stories and I always find it infuriating . . .” (164-65) Of course, author Horowitz leads his readers down many cul-de-sacs before he reveals the solution to the crime. This is despite his avowed approach:  ”In a museum, a department store, a theatre, a Tube station, I’ll find myself wondering what goes on behind those locked doors. I sometimes think that it’s actually a good definition of creative writing: to unlock doors and take readers through to the other side.” (131) Multiple doors in The Sentence Is Death open and shut and then open again.

Mystery lovers, don’t miss this one.