Murder on the Champ De Mars by Cara Black

This is another in a long series of Aimée Leduc mysteries.  My sister says it’s too squishy with all the French words.  Maybe she’s just too Ohioan or Nebraskan: remember Frog-Fries? 

I got used to, and like, the designer names, and the common argot phrases.  I bonded with Louise Penny’s French-Canadian Inspector Gamache, who was recommended to me, by my sister – go figure.

Paris is my favorite city, but it’s all through memory and reading now, thus mellowing with age like a good Chambertin, and enjoyable in sips.

O.K., my sister must have stuck it out farther than I did.  The first few books were cute with their mentions of designer shoes and bags and coats, and I liked that, superficial as I am.  But this is too much.!  Cara Black, the author, is dumping product placement ads 2/3 to a page.  As an author, she’s prostituting herself and reflecting badly on her trade, which supposedly is writing murder mysteries, not whoring.

After 100 of 300 pages, I am returning this book to the Library and I do not recommend it to anyone.  The plot is thin, character development is lacking.  The author appears to be just grinding out “another one” for maximum $$$ payback.

the Buried Gsant by Kazuo Ishiguro

This is an interesting middle-ages adventure story somewhere between The Canterbury Tales and Arthurian legend; and it’s written by the man who brought us, “The Remains of the Day”, Kazuo Ishiguro.  In some ways, it’s irritatingly slow-paced; then again, I’m continuing to move through, “The Elephant’s Journey”, so I’m already committed to Cervantes-like travel stories.

In this story, an elderly couple embarks on a journey to visit their son.  Along the way they acquire traveling companions, each with their own mission, but all seeing the advantage of banding together.

As their journey proceeds through small village and monastery, they seem to remember more and more of their past lives: a fog is lifted and they surmise that their forgetfulness is the work of a magical spell – the question is?  black or white magic?

I am half way through this book (160/317), but can see the outcome being either a traditional battle with Merlin, and/or between Merlin and Morgana.  I’m sure that in the end, Peace will rule in the land, and that good will continue in the realm.

However, I have to turn the book in now, -- 3 weeks --.

 

The Woman Upstairs by Clair Messud

[or The Book of Whines]

To be specific within the “novel” genre, this is a fictional memoir – all first-person, very introspective (which I like), but written a bit too garbled for my liking.  It’s well edited and the plot and major themes were fine, but the rambling sentences drive me to distraction.  Others may find this style comforting, more realistic, almost like a dialogue with the reader.  I found it whiny.  I’m an optimist: for me, her self-deprecating insecurities are boring.  I wanted to say, “Get over it!”

Whining is not an endearing quality - not a quality at all -a severe fault.  Clair Messud opens this book with the whine of all whines.  The author basically outlines on the first page, paragraph two, what will follow in the next 300 pages. 

More whining.  She whines about her mother, she whines about her father, and her brother.  She whines about aging, about her job and her boss.  She whines about her artwork and about her girl-friends.  She whines about every aspect of her life.

It somewhat reminded me of Durrell’s Quartet or a Day in the Life of.  No heady stuff such as that though – she’s a plain, boring spinster lady who has the chance to mingle with bright people.  Everything’s in her head, as it is for all of us: fantasies, dreams, fears, wishes  -- all the creations of our magnificent brain – what a wonder we are: the pinnacle of evolution on this planet.

Messud lays on “the woman upstairs” clause a bit too thickly and too often – once was probably sufficient.  But she uses it a few dozen times.  Live long enough and everyone becomes the old person upstairs -- I think George Burns had a line about eventually there’s no one left to talk to, peer to peer.  I’m worried about my ex off in Turkey struggling to get on a bus, and my sister unable to breathe in San Jose.  Two bad e-mails and I could be out of peers to talk to. 

The art projects were interesting to read about.  It’s always amazing to me what a large percentage of humanity is devoted to the arts.  Nora’s efforts at her miniatures were a hobbyist’s project in scrap-booking.  This was in juxtaposition with Sirena’s masterpiece of performance art.  The author, Messud, appears to know a thing or two about the art world and has deftly portrayed the two artists as opposites.

And Nora?  Nora is consistent – consistently angry and whiny.

The Red Tent by Anita Diamant

Right off the top I have to say that this book has been chosen by my Novel Lovers of Sebastopol, which is primarily a female exclusive reading group.  I have to add though, that this selection was brilliant: I am thoroughly enjoying the book a third of the way through. 

The protagonist is a woman, not long after the time of Abraham, who relates her stories, as was the custom of the time, passed down from her grandmother and mother’s female families through to her female children and grandchildren.  Stories passed across five generations, by telling and retelling.  Most of we readers respect this historical concept and rue the loss about a millennia ago of the retold verbal story. 

From my perspective, as an aging male, I’ve achieved balance between my testosterone and my estrogen.  I’ve raised kids all my life, and am naturally envious of the mystical “Red Tent” goings on, of which I will never be a part.  I’m sure that like me, other readers always want a book that teaches them something, and this one’s got birthing rites in spades.  And at least as far as I’ve read, a comical view of men, not unlike the old Greek plays about sex strikes, etc.  This was before urbanity (City-States), so all people were alike.  People are normal in this book – which seems to be a current concept I’ve been appreciating recently.  I like book characters, not the best in the world at X, Y and Z.  Beautiful women, studly men, are always in the eye of the beholder.  We readers understand love and relationships, which abound in this book.

So, the first hundred pages enjoyed: I’m all in.

Eight Hundred Grapes by Laura Dave

I sometimes think I could restrict myself to just writers in the corridor between San Francisco and Sonoma counties and just like the plethora of new restaurants, never run out of enjoyable experiences.

Laura Dave isn’t a native Sonoman, but she’s an excellent writer who has done good research and has captured the feel of the small wineries which abound in Sonoma County.  Our “boutique” wineries are similar to SillyCon Valley’s tech start-ups in being small and passionate about their products.  Unlike techville, here it’s family owned and operated; our guys like to settle in for life.

Like most of my friends and neighbors, I’ve gone to scores of tasting rooms and equally many small winery dinners to meet the winemaker, the family, and sometimes their sons and/or daughters who carried on.  The ethos that was the central theme of this book is the real difference between Napa and Sonoma counties.  Our small lot winemakers are a treasure unique to Sonoma County.  I have been hearing these personal stories now for seventeen years, much like the family story portrayed in “Eight Hundred Grapes”.

The story about terroir was done beautifully in “French Kiss,” 1995 with Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline.  The story of Pinot Noir was given a boost in 2004 by “Sideways” with Paul Giamantti.  This book only adds to glamour of Sonoma County wines.

And by the way, the author writes a great love story, with great insight into real people’s foibles.  Don’t peek to the end – the trip from the beginning will give the reader a joy ride just like the “Big Dipper” roller-coaster at Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk.

So, again, don’t peek – and then I guarantee you’ll shed two tears of joy at the end: one for love and one for wine.

The Fall by John Lescroart

You can’t get much better than a cops & lawyers murder mystery that takes place in San Francisco; but to top it off, the murder of the young woman takes place near where Miles Archer took a bullet, Bush & Stockton. 

 

The author brings San Francisco to life for the reader.  The characters are all too human and you almost feel like part of the family.

The plot lines are fast-paced and interesting.  It’s not easy to come up with new ideas and twists in this genre of police procedure and the justice system.  Lescroart has comeup with a story that is intriguing to the end.

One more thing that all readers love to hear is that this is just the first in what will be a series of Rebecca hardy’s cases, most assuredly with her father, Dismas, close by her side.

 

The Art of Hearing Heartbeats by Jan-Philipp Sendker

I’m sure Disney has got story board artists working day and night on Mi Mi’s wardrobe and action scenes.

This was a great fairy tale.!    

   The themes are classic.

      Two misfits, struggling through life,

   until one day, they meet,

      and fall in Love.!

Siegfried faces his ultimate challenge when he follows a birdsong to find the sleeping Brunnhilde whom fate has destined Siegfried to awaken and fall in love with.   

No.!, that was another German fairy tale. 

But alas, destiny dictates directions,

   along their separate paths.

Each is bound by familial duty for half a century:  he to find fame and fortune in America; she to raise their love child     in their impoverished town in Burma.

Yet, they meet for one final moment   in  death.

The smoke from their pyres joining together, rising to the heavens.

This is a tale worthy of inclusion in the Arabian 1001 Nights.

As we Americans have Faulkner and Hemmingway, whose style and essence many writers try to incorporate, Germans have Kafka and Hesse.  These four are the sort of writers to whom you can apply the suffix, -esque.

In Sendker’s case, he’s going for a pinch of Siddhartha and a whiff of The Glass Bead Game.  I heard an NPR program on the lure of theosophy around Hesse’s time. 

It was a discussion of Michelle Goldberg’s book, The Goddess Pose: The Audacious Life of Indra Devi, the Woman Who Helped Bring Yoga to the West.[1]

The “Heartbeats” content is perfect for a graphics film, like with Ariel and the Sea, or Beauty & the Beast, maybe Aladdin and Jabbar.  I watched and loved them all – I’m sure I’ll love this one too.

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[1] Here’s NPR’s discussion of The Goddess Pose