In Women of the Silk, Gail Tsukiyama tells what life was like for girls like Pei, our main character. Raised on a small rural farm that had fish and mulberry leaves for its cash crops, she was taken by her father one morning to the nearby town. Without any idea of what was happening, she was dropped off at the factory dormitory. She was eight years old.

The other girls and young women, all in the same situation befriended her.  The relationships among them unfold against the backdrop of the silk factory.  We learn how silk was produced and the conditions of factory life. 

This segment of Pei’s life ends when she is in her 20s and escapes to Hong Kong to avoid the Japanese who have invaded China. I wonder if the author’s Chinese ancestors had direct experience with this time as she has written before about the brutality of the Japanese army.

Morgan was interested in rare manuscripts and had haphazardly amassed a valuable collection.  He was looking for a librarian to bring some order to it when his nephew introduced him to Belle.  She was a jewel.  Not only did she catalog his acquisitions, she also guided him in adding to his collection.  Rare books, first printings from the original printing press, illuminated manuscripts, all were her forté. She could spot a forgery or misrepresentation. Plus, she was a skilled negotiator when most women, in the early 1900s, just didn’t do that sort of thing.

The second story in this book of historical fiction was about Belle’s personal life.  She was born a “colored girl” in the South just after Reconstruction.  Her educated parents enjoyed success in that period, a respite between slavery and Jim Crow.

As Reconstruction passed and federal troops left the South, segregation and prejudice once again became ascendant. The family moved north and faced a choice.  They were light skinned and could pass as white.  Should they?  Belle’s father said no and fought for equality.  Her mother, less optimistic, said yes and took the children, thus giving them opportunities they never would have had.  Belle, moving in sophisticated circles in a high-powered job, presented herself as white with a Portuguese ancestor to account for her darker skin. 

The private library she directed became public one hundred years ago.  As part of its centennial celebration last year, there was an exhibit honoring Belle, acknowledging her accomplishments and mixed-race background. Her secret had been kept until 1999 when a Morgan researcher discovered her birth certificate listing her as “colored” and naming her father, Richard Greener, who was a well-known black advocate for racial justice.

This newest detective, Matthew, was raised in an evangelical community in rural England where he found belonging and acceptance until he came out as gay and married his love.  Shunned by the church and rejected by his parents, he found a new community in the police force and rose to the rank of detective inspector.

In this story he and his two sergeants are called to solve the murder of a popular sailing figure, dead in a small boat apparently arranged to be found.  Matthew remembers the place.  It was here that he spent a happy childhood as part of the Brethren. But now, pouring rain, roaring winds, and high tides add to the gloomy atmosphere as the three officers follow a dangerous trail that twists through old flames, jealousy, illness and aging.

This one tells the story of a man who visited the undersea dragon palace.  After being entertained there for a few days, he returned home to find he had been gone three hundred years. I was reminded of our Rip Van Winkle story and interested to see the same fable about this modern physics concept (of time moving at different speeds), in two very different cultures.

The indigenous view is one of gratitude, respect, and reciprocity.  Nature gives us much and we have a responsibility to return the favor.  All living things are seen as persons and native language reflects this.  Trees, for example, are “she” not “it.”  How much harder to cut a tree down if you think of her as a living person, a “she,” instead of an “it.”

Kimmerer’s essays describe her experiences as a mother, botanist, teacher, and Native American. She harvests maple syrup and makes baskets. She takes her students into the woods and on farm visits to experience the concepts she teaches.  Those nice Thanksgiving squash are actually swollen ovaries?  Yuck. There is an abundance of scientific information told in a delightful way.

One of the best chapters, Collateral Damage, was about salamanders, those cold-blooded often unappealing little beings that are never poster animals for endangered species. She writes that when the first spring rain comes into the forest when the temperature has reached 42 degrees, the salamanders rise through the humus and head towards their natal ponds.  The females, swollen with eggs, go first.  A couple of days later, the males go.  They get together in a very particular kind of watery environment.  Any writer who can make the moving and mating of salamanders both beautiful and fascinating is gifted indeed!

The book is slow starting; it is also repetitious.  Her portrayal of the success of the Native American lifestyle was idealized. Kimmerer herself tells us there was a “hunger moon” in the winter when starvation was common. But the essays are thought-provoking; the descriptions evoke the best days in nature; and the book made me see the world from a different perspective.

The characters are Nigerian who live there or who have moved to the states. Their culture controls many of the stories but some are universal.  Mothers die; children die; mothers sell their children; they reject them. The stories explore the bond between mothers and children, different facets of becoming a mother, things that go wrong along the way.

In a short time Ajose-Fisher’s characters pull at us so we are invested in their outcome. There is little backstory and sometimes the lack of detail is confusing, but the feelings of the woman or child are very clear.

What does the author mean by the title?  Does she want to dispel idealistic notions about both mothers and gods? Is the mother the most primal, God like influence on her child? I leave it to the reader to decide.

But Maud was no fool. She soon figured out what the neighbor wanted and devised a plan to keep her from getting it. But then…what? Maud! Not what I expected.

Helene Tursten has given us a different kind of main character – one who plays the old lady card, and anything else she can get her hands on, very well.  Of course, we don’t approve, but yet… Each of the five chapters in this short, small book is a tongue-in-cheek separate story about Maud’s problem-solving capabilities.  It is easily read in an afternoon.

Before she wrote short stories, Tursten wrote serious detective novels set in Stockholm. Check out my new Facebook page for a short review of her first, Detective Inspector Huss.

What was important about this man and where he lived?  Blair eventually became known as George Orwell, author of 1984 and Animal Farm, and there is little documentation of this part of his life.

The plot is straightforward.  Blair goes through his training and apprenticeship but does not find success. Although he forces himself to do the work, he hates the job and does not get along with his peers.  He lasts only a few months in each posting and then is transferred.

The setting is much more interesting.  How the British treat the Burmese they are supposed to be helping is appalling to a 21^st century reader – not just in their capacity as policemen, but in their personal and social lives.  Blair, a man of his times, is embarrassed to be related to his uncle who is married to a local woman, and worse yet has a half caste child, his cousin, shunned by both the British and natives.

The flavor of Burma, the tropics, suffuses the story.  “the shimmering fish scales of small waves on the surface of the sea…the sun sinking like an apricot…a mass of twitching bats, clustered together, jostling their loose wings…the brown wastes of inland Burma, the scabby bush, the naked children jumping into foul creeks…”

But it is the character of the budding writer that is the crux of the book. Theroux’s portrayal is a masterclass in a young person’s discovery of who he is.  At first, Blair is determined to make a success of his job.  He salutes; he studies; he follows orders; but it is not for him.   Eventually, Blair acknowledges his rebellious thoughts; he searches for ways to find comfort in an intolerable situation; he finds and names a second person hidden inside himself; he imagines leaving the police and Burma.  In incremental steps, the writer emerges.

The epigraph, quoted from George Orwell’s Burmese Days, reads “There is a short period in everyone’s life when his character is fixed forever.”

His train is met by Matsu, the taciturn house caretaker. As they slowly become acquainted, Matsu begins to include Stephen in his daily activities. He takes him shopping, introduces him to an old friend in the nearby village.  Most important, he takes him to meet Sachi who has made her home in the leper village in the mountains. Others have the burden of sickness as well.

Stephen likes Sachi and he soon realizes the depth of her relationship with Matsu and the loyalty and commitment that bind them despite her illness.  At the same time, Stephen learns of his father’s affair and sees the marriage of his parents disintegrate. Several additional relationships are explored; each more complex than they first appear.

Both Matsu and Sachi have made beautiful gardens.  His is rich with cherry blossoms and chrysanthemums; hers is raked stone. The beauty they create is hard won. When destruction comes, which it does, they rebuild.  It is a symbol of their lives.

The setting is pre-World War II when Japan’s military is sweeping through China and approaching Hong Kong.  Stephen’s parents send for him before it is too late to come home.  He has become a full participant in the rural life he previously dreaded and is heartbroken to leave.  As in the story above, it has been a short period of his life that will affect him forever. The first words of the novel, “I wanted to find my own way…” have more than one meaning.

A young Indian bride, married three years ago when she was still in school, has just joined her husband, a newly established doctor, to begin married life.  They are invited to dinner where she meets his British colleagues for the first time.  As dessert, carrot halwa, is served, a scream comes from the kitchen.  Kaveri, bright and curious, figures out a way to get near the murder scene. The victim is a pimp well known to the police. 

The scene is set to show many aspects of life, British colonial rule, upper class educated Indians, servants, poverty, and the seamier side of gangs and prostitution.  Kaveri is fortunate in her arranged marriage as her husband, Ramu, is forward thinking.  He supports her interests and desire for further education.  They make a good team – as a married couple and as sleuths in this cozy debut mystery.

He and his second in command, Jean-Guy, and Inspector Isabelle Lacoste must decipher the cryptic clues in time to prevent a catastrophe. Who exactly can they trust? Old friends appear but they might be lying. Sanctuaries, monasteries hidden from the world, find themselves not as safe and removed as they thought. Domestic terrorism leaves no place to hide.

Balancing the fear and danger of their work is the refuge of home. Readers of Penny’s books will be familiar with this cast – loving spouses and children, noisy small grandchildren, the eclectic residents of Three Pines who are best friends as well as neighbors.

Her descriptions of place capture the mood and flavor. Here is the monastery of Saint Gilbert Entre les Loups: “Even in the weakening light, the place was magical.  From the outside it looked frightening, foreboding. But inside? It was glorious. The windows high up in the long, long corridor captured every last ray available in the dying light and magnified it, brought it to life.  The stone hallway was giddy with the evening sun.”

Louise Penny is at the top of her form.  She has written a thrilling page turner, a mythic story about the battle between good and evil, symbolized by two warring wolves.

Minutely observed by the octopus in captivity, Tova works at night cleaning the aquarium. She needs the job for something to do, not the money. A recent widow, Tova also still mourns a beloved son who died at 18. The second main character, Cameron, has just been fired, again. His girlfriend threw him out. Marcellus, near the end of his four-year life span, realizes he can give them a gift.

This is an especially well plotted novel. All the information is necessary and fits together into a satisfying whole. No excessive rambling!  The human characters at junctures in their lives are sympathetic. And who could not like the feisty being with three hearts who thinks that humans can occasionally, just occasionally, be remarkably bright creatures. The point of the novel – how an act of kindness can change a life – makes this a beautiful heart-warming story.

This multi layered novel is definitely adult fiction. It is philosophical and peppered with pointed observations. “Logic and reason are never the best weapons in an irrational world. It’s humor” (An apt suggestion for our current time.)

Reclusive Rintaro Natsuki has spent as much time as possible with his grandfather in his secondhand bookshop. The store is unusual in that it doesn’t contain best sellers, but classics from around the world.  When the grandfather dies and leaves the shop to him, Rintaro must figure out how to make his way in this altered world. Unexpectedly, there are helpers – a pretty girl from school, a popular athletic senior, a kindly aunt, and yes, a talking cat.

Rintaro undertakes the hero’s journey where he must find his way through the labyrinths and confront the monsters, both physical and metaphorical. All the monsters are connected to the mistreatment of books. But more deeply, this mistreatment is a commentary on modern society.

Finally, there is the exploration of the value of books. What good are they? At the end, Matsukawa provides a satisfying answer. “Books teach us empathy, how to care about others. That’s the power of books.  We learn about the hearts and minds of other people besides ourselves.”

Birds who compete for resources during breeding season, band together during the dark days. “They cooperate as compensation for leafless trees and cold temperatures, working together to find food sources and evade predators, staying warm by flocking up…In the dark days already gathering, we will need to do our best to look out for one another and for the creatures we love.”

John’s father was a preacher, and the Pentecostal faith is the basis of the family’s life.  Wrestling with sin and evil is constant.  The father, Gabriel, is determined to keep John from sin, something he is all too familiar with.

The teen’s story is told in third person, but John’s aunt, father and mother all tell theirs in first person lending an intimacy to their disclosures.  This black family speak of their heartbreaks, their beating down, their rage.  The church, with its singing, wailing in tongues, emotional prayers for salvation, offers a refuge.  Racism is not dwelled upon, but feelings about whites are clear from the few bitter remarks.

The family’s expectation is that John will become a preacher.  While John wants to be “good,” he must deal with his awakening sexuality and his feelings towards the attractive 17-year-old male minister in their church. 

The book is semi-autobiographical.  Baldwin grew up in a similar environment, wanted to be a preacher, knows his Bible quotations.  He is an astute critic of such a church and its teachings.

There are three extremely powerful, emotional passages; in two, someone is saved and in the third, someone succumbs to sin (sex). His compelling language, use of imagery, character dissection, and finally the portrayal of the evangelical life all illustrate the depth of Baldwin’s talent and show why this book is considered his masterpiece and an American classic.

After just two weeks, someone in the club is murdered and the members look at the two new women suspiciously.  But they are the ones with experience in this sort of thing and join together to investigate. Peg’s pushy nosiness and Rose’s soft touch are just the right combo for eliciting information.

The other main characters in this mystery are Peg’s three standard poodles who provide her, a widow, with company and support.  She and her husband had raised dogs in the past and she is still an accomplished judge at shows.  Rose is more a cat person.

It’s a good plot – well paced and just difficult enough.  I didn’t guess the ending.  This is a story that will especially appeal to the dog lover (especially poodles), the bridge player, and anyone wanting to relax with a mystery that is cozy rather than a thriller.

The women in her family, who always chose to raise their daughters alone, were often shunned by their small town – although those they helped with their specialized knowledge felt differently.  When two teenage girls disappeared and were later found dead in the pond on the Moon farm, accusing fingers pointed their way.  Unable to prove anything but easily convinced of their guilt, law enforcement did little to find the real culprits.

When her grandmother dies, Lizzie returns to the farm to get it ready to sell.  She misses this grandmother she loved and determines to honor her by clearing her name and hopefully finding the real murderer of the two girls.  She is helped by the handsome neighbor.  No one who has read a book before will have a hard time guessing what happens.  But how exactly it works out is very well done and we have an enjoyable mystery with a bit of “magick.”

The setting is France before World War II.  Lou was a fearless sports-oriented child who liked her brother’s clothes. She is sent to a convent where her athletic gifts are encouraged; the Olympics are mentioned.  When trouble comes, she is given shelter in a transvestite nightclub in Paris where she thrives for a while, becomes part of a show, and falls in love.  Because of her strength and competitive spirit, she is tapped by one of the customers to train as a race car driver.  She is successful and briefly happy.  But each success, both in love and work, ends in betrayal, leaving Lou depressed and embittered.

It is at this low time that she is invited to Germany where she is flattered and fawned over.  There is a dinner where the Fuhrer (no less!) chooses to sit with her and admire her strength and accomplishments.  She is totally seduced.  With her many contacts in the sports world, wouldn’t she like to help Germany, which is doing so well and wants to help France become equally successful?  Of course she would.

Lou’s choices – or is it fate – make this a meaty psychological book, but there is so much more.  The supporting characters tell their stories in their own voices.  There is the gifted photographer, Gabor, drawn to the steamy nightclubs of the Paris underworld who writes weekly to his parents.  His friend the writer, is penniless at the time, but eventually becomes a cult figure.  The Baroness, in a very French marriage, supports and loves Gabor.

Equaling the complex characters are the vivid descriptions of the prewar era.  The portrait of how Paris waited, of how the French lived their daily lives as war with Germany loomed, is superb.  At the same time, the Germans are crazy for their leader and idolize his views on strength and power.  When war comes, we see the details of how spying for the Nazis worked and how easily information slipped out to waiting ears.

In addition to evocative descriptions of an era, insightful character studies, and explorations of moral questions, Prose does a great job with the symbol of the chameleon.  On one hand, it is the obvious: the cross-dressing night club and the spies and resistance during the war. But it is also two themes of the book. Is there just one truth or does a story change according to how many are experiencing it?  Is someone’s identity stable, or does it change according to circumstance and time?  What is the chameleon’s true color?

The characters in the book are based on real people and events.  Lou is based on Violette Morris, a French lesbian race car driver who collaborated with the Nazis; the writer is based on Henry Miller; and the Hungarian photographer, Brassai.

Part of the group was deployed to Europe, Africa, and Asia to find needed facts buried in old pamphlets, newspapers, dry technical books.  They found, for example, information on railroad capacity enabling the US military to estimate how quickly supplies could be moved by rail in Germany.  Old telephone books kept in obscure libraries listed companies, (with addresses), that made parts such as ball bearings used in tank or truck production.  Bombing factories that made parts put many additional manufacturers out of business. 

At home, another part of the group read the reams of information that was sent and organized it into usable reports that answered generals’ questions. This was an interesting story about the kind of details that were important in winning a war and the kind of people able to find them.

Graham is interested in the U.S. culture of the 40s that looked in unusual places for experts and found them among the people Hitler most loathed – intellectuals, racial minorities, Jews, immigrants.  The diversity of the U.S., its melting-pot, was a great asset in collecting intelligence.  She contrasts this openness with German authoritarianism which valued conformity, overestimated the abilities of insiders, stereotyped outsiders.  Graham ends with a discussion of the continued need for a liberal arts education.

The beginning forewarns us.  The first letter is placid and friendly; the second is written during the 1962 Columbus Day storm, a benchmark for the Pacific NW since then.

Joan, a young woman living in Los Angeles, mails a fan letter to Imogen on Camano Island, Washington.  She encloses a small gift of saffron to Imogen, an established writer for a local news magazine.  When Imogen answers, they discover a rapport, and a warm friendship develops.

The flavor of the 1960s infuses the story.  What fun it was to read about Lawrence Welk and Herb Alpert, and to hear about The Feminine Mystique as something new. The characters anxiously await the mailman or pay $3 for a three-minute long-distance phone call.

But it is their delight in food – the discovery of unknown international flavors – pesto, molé, shish kebab – that makes this a joy to read. The two women share the new techniques and recipes exploding onto the American cooking scene; they watch Julia Child on the new education channel.  Joan discovers the Mexican markets of LA and finds someone to share them with.

I was reminded of that old movie Babette’s Feast where a spectacular dinner softens the most dour of hearts and intransient animosity.  In our book, the enjoyment of excellent food is a gateway to intimacy and love.  When troubles come, and they do, each woman has the support of a best friend.

Those living in the Northwest will enjoy the section on the Seattle Pike Place Market and the 1960s campaign to tear it down and replace it with condos.

A widow, just 60, Vera has plenty of zip and energy and not much to do with it.  Her run-down shop gets few customers and sitting by herself all day is lonely. But one morning everything changes when she opens the door and finds a dead body sprawled on the floor. Her desire to take charge kicks in. She pries the flash drive out of the dead person’s hand, does a few other helpful things such as outlining the body, and then calls the police.

Vera knows a murderer will return to the scene of the crime so she settles in to wait. But four possibilities show up at her tearoom so how will she choose?  Vera would have gotten along well with Joan and Imogen from the above review.  She decides to cook – the most delicious Chinese food – and feeds them all.  Her mothering, her advice (she has lots), her support are what they need and soon this troubled secretive group responds to the home cooked meals and care. They reciprocate by helping Vera refurbish her dated tearoom and offer the companionship she has missed.

Does Vera identify the murderer?  It wasn’t too hard to figure out what happened, although I never would have guessed the details. The best parts of the story are the very likeable characters, each with their own abilities, who bring this mystery to a satisfactory close.

There are three separate stories.  In the first, Deanna, a wildlife biologist who is in charge of a section of the Appalachians, encounters a handsome hunter on the trail.  In the second, Lusa, an entomologist, starts her life as a new farm wife in the small town nearby.  In the last, Garrett, a grumpy old man, can’t get along with his neighbor whose skirts are too short for her age (70) and has so many newfangled ideas about pesticides and weeds. The development of each story is nicely paced and after a while, a name from one of the other two appears in the third. At the end, the three stories join into a satisfactory whole.

Kingsolver is interested in the ecology of the Appalachians and has some definite ideas about predator species and pesticides.  Sometimes they intrude too much into the story.  As a birder, I was especially impressed with her descriptions of warbler songs.  Warblers!  There are over a hundred different kinds and identifying even a few by appearance, never mind song, is a big deal.  The author lives in rural Appalachia and I’m guessing this is something she, as well as her character, can do.

Frankie is a privileged young woman, newly graduated from nursing school in California, raised in a patriotic family whose generations of men have gone to war.  When someone suggests that today, women can be heroes also, she idealistically enlists in the Army and is sent to Vietnam.

We see her character change, quickly, as she encounters the unimaginable reality.  Although she comes home physically uninjured, she never recovers from that time.  She endures the deaths of a family member and several close friends; she is betrayed by the love of her life and abandoned by her parents; she suffers from PTSD before the term has been defined; she is unable to get help from the VA because “there were no women in Vietnam.”  But she does have the two close women friends she served with in Vietnam.

The novel is a bit overdone as Hannah tries to give as much of the wartime experience as possible to her one main character. It isn’t the most powerful war story I’ve read, but it is a worthwhile one about a group of women who deserve the honor of being remembered.

But happiness is not the subject of this Irish novel.  Helen is not so gay at her party but feels a sense of disquiet.  Toibin continues in this vein when he introduces a visitor the next day.  He is her brother’s friend who has come to tell her that the brother is dying from AIDS. She is asked to give the news to her estranged mother and grandmother and to go to him.

The brother’s illness controls much of the plot, but it is the relationships among Helen, her mother and her grandmother that are the crux of the story.  Neither of the two women were invited to Helen’s wedding or have met her husband and children; she hasn’t seen them in years.  There is a painful, suppressed rage, each towards the other.  Toibin places them in a situation where they are forced to interact to help the brother, and maybe to vocalize some of their feelings of fear, rejection, and anger carried forward from the past.

Vignettes, two or three pages long, start when Esperanza is a young child. Each paints a revealing slice of life in her family and then the larger Mexican community.  Together they are the coming-of-age story of a bright young woman observing the poverty-stricken world around her.

In the tenth anniversary edition, the author writes a perceptive introduction about her eventual move away from home. “I was undergoing several changes of identity. For the first time I was living alone, in a community very different in class and culture from the one where I was raised.  This caused so much unrest I could barely speak, let alone write about it.”

These phrases caught my attention as I have been thinking recently about the many cultural changes that have occurred in the last fifty years in our country: women’s equality and their expanding roles; protected minority rights in education, housing, jobs; LGBTQ being recognized and celebrated; white men’s traditional positions blamed and challenged.  There are also technological changes – safe abortion; advent of the pill and the subsequent sexual revolution; in vitro fertilization. 

These changes threaten our most basic identity, leaving us, as the author says, full of unrest.  It may be a partial explanation for why many want to “go back to how things were” when they understood their roles more clearly.  Fifty years may not be enough time for a culture to adapt and incorporate so many fundamental changes. Progress, unfortunately, is not a straight line.

“Their sense of world order is about to be undone by the women in their lives grabbing democracy by the ballot box. (When you’re a registered voter, they let you do it.)”

Another vivid sentence: “In Western Europe, many see America’s presidential election this year…as something more like a soccer game between a mid-ranking team and a herd of stampeding buffalo. Sure, the buffalo might win — but not by playing soccer.”

Twilley teaches us about the cold chain – how food is super cooled within a couple of hours of harvest, or production, and stays at a precise temperature, with a precise mix of gases, until it is displayed on the grocery shelf.  Those soft fluffy rolls that were baked this morning?  Think again – they’ve been in the freezer for months. Those juicy kiwi and avocados? In the refrigerator equally long. When they travel, it is on a refrigerated truck, boat, or train in a series of highly mechanized and controlled steps.  This is business as big as it comes.

 An early chapter details the work of the invisible people whose jobs, all day long, are in those warehouses where temperatures are near freezing or below zero, moving and storing pallets of tater tots and pot pies for dinner.

After giving the history of cold storage, starting with cut blocks of river ice, and ending with state-of-the-art home refrigerators, Twilley asks if it is worth it.  Is our food as good as we think?  Or have taste, variety, and nutritive value been lost more than we realize?   What about the environmental cost of creating a permanent freeze system at the expense of melting the natural one?     

This book had one interesting fact after another. I used sticky notes to mark them and finished with a rainbow of forty or so. Here are just a couple:

“There are approximately 22.7 billion broiler chickens on earth at any given moment compared with just half a billion house sparrows or a quarter of a billion pigeons…a combined mass (of chickens) that exceeds that of all other birds on Earth.” (There’s a follow-up discussion about chicken bones.)

“Many of the most peculiar recipes of the 1920s…peanut butter salad (green peppers, celery, whipped cream, and pb) are best understood as status signifiers…they demonstrated refrigerator ownership.” (I actually found this recipe online in an old pamphlet distributed by Kelvinator.)

 Twilley’s book would be of interest to anyone who eats, shops in a grocery store, or owns a refrigerator.

First the person must establish herself online and amass hundreds of thousands of followers.  How?  Have you watched any cat videos lately?  It is incredible to me what people will post and what others will watch.  Once a certain threshold is reached, advertising becomes a possibility.  People are paid to incorporate ads into their videos.  If you are ready to make your fortune, Lorenz will tell you what you are up against.

For many, being able to create a popular video (film their pets, bake a cake, play a prank) and get paid is a dream job.  Is it any wonder young people would rather do that than get up at five to serve McSandwiches? “Google has enabled millions to earn a living…build a business…sell merchandise.” 

People feel a sense of validation for their lifestyle choices and a connection with others when they get clicks and followers. They are noticed. Lorenz lastly wonders if people have become more interested in taking pictures of themselves doing things than doing the actual thing itself.  This is an informative provocative book about a new world that has been created in our lifetime.

In Tell Me Everything, a book about connections, she brings together two of her most famous characters, Olive Kitteridge and Lucy Barton, who become friends. Lucy visits Olive in her retirement home and they tell each other stories about the people who have touched their lives. 

There are two plots.  Lucy, and Bob Burgess (also found in her previous books), both married to others, have a close friendship that may – or may not – develop into something more.  Second, Bob, a criminal lawyer in his previous life, has agreed to represent a man accused of murdering his mother. These two plots move the story forward but are only the backdrop for the main event.

Lucy wants to know what life is about.  What is the point?  What is the point of our individual stories?  It is a hard answer to discover when the truth about ourselves, never mind others, is so well hidden.  And our feelings are complicated.  Even the people we love most can be so annoying.

Strout’s characters, who have become our friends, experience the common but not trivial things of everyday life: love, friendship, work, aging, death. Traumas from the past resurface in feelings of sorrow and rage, but sometimes there are different memories of warmth and joy.

Simone met her husband in college.  She grew up in California and came from an anti-military, anti-gun family.  When her boyfriend talks about the military, she really doesn’t hear him.  But it is not a passing interest for Andrew.  More and more, he knows this is what he wants, must, do with his life.  How they resolve this chasm between them is one of the main themes of the book.

Simone finds herself living in military housing knowing no one.  Almost immediately, her husband leaves for training.  In the two years they are in Georgia, if her husband isn’t deployed, he is in a training designed to keep him combat ready.  He is rarely available.

Slowly, she finds companionship in the only people who are available, the wives.  At first, they seem very different, but they have an overwhelming common interest.  They share in the anxiety about a husband on deployment; they deal with the difficulties of transition when he returns; they are lonely without old friends or family nearby.  Eventually, Simone becomes part of a tight knit support group; they are the ones she turns to when in trouble; they are her “family.”

This is a memoir heavy on philosophy.  Simone tries to understand why her husband loves this life; she tries to reconcile her own feelings about living on money made from aggression and killing. She tries to find her own identity in a life where she has little control.

It is also a book heavy on feelings as the author creates a vivid picture of what this life was like for her and the others, dealing with the minutiae of Army life, the frustration of living at the Army’s whim.  Depression and anxiety are major companions.

This is an informative story about a way of life too few Americans are acquainted with.

Duniway came to Oregon as a teenager in the mid-1800s, brought by an adventurous father and unwilling mother.  Both the mother and a younger brother died on the Oregon Trail.  This imposition of the father’s will on the family with its devastating results must have been a catalyst for her views on women’s position in society.

Duniway blossomed into one of those high energy women. She became a farm wife and had six children.  In addition, she taught school, owned a school, wrote twenty-two novels depicting the plight of women, wrote for a newspaper, owned a newspaper, ran a milliner and seamstress business, became interested in women’s suffrage, travelled extensively, gave thousands of speeches and lobbied continually for women’s right to vote.  Whew!  I had to put my feet up just reading about her.

Kirkpatrick does a thorough job of depicting the attitudes towards women’s proper place in the culture of the times. Her position that they were infuriatingly unfair is exactly right.  Nevertheless, a whole book of complaint after complaint about injustice gets tiring in a different way. 

This story about all that women endured to get the vote and the many setbacks that befell them was a timely read during the Democratic convention.

This juxtaposition of rural Arkansas life with the occasional pop of detailed medical knowledge provides the setting for Thomas Holland’s The Evil to Come.

After another seemingly random shooting, Elmore finds himself continuing to say “I don’t know” when his neighbors and fellow professionals ask about the cases. There are few leads. Jewell Faye, his long-time secretary, who knows everyone in town and everything they ever did, is his pre-computer county-wide web of knowledge.

The book is very descriptive, possibly too much so, of small-town Arkansas characters.  They chew tobacco, are besotted with football; the women bake pies when there is trouble; but they are not stereotypes; they are complex sympathetic people.  The plot with its very surprise ending shows the long reach of childhood abuse and hatred. 

I’m the sort of reader who sometimes likes to read the end first. That way I don’t gallop through the story but can enjoy the richness along the way. In this case I was glad I did because I slowed down to enjoy the Arkansas flavor plus spotted some very well-integrated clues that I never would have seen.

Is it sexist to call this a “man’s” book?  It is full of gun details, military memories, and male law enforcement. The few women are wives or the secretary (granted, it is the 1960s). Nonetheless, it has a very strong sense of place, an intricate plot, and well-developed characters, all of which would appeal to anyone.