Old Ladies Read and More

The beginning is earthly. A wayward English son has been exiled to Vancouver Island in 1912. While walking in the woods, he has an unsettling experience which is exacerbated when he meets someone he knows should not be there. Skipping ahead to 2020, a woman concerned that she has dropped an old friend unfairly spots someone from a disturbing childhood incident. In 2203, an author who lives on one of the domed moon colonies, writes about odd music and forest in an airport.  In 2401, physicists who specialize in time travel, worry about an anomaly that seems very much like corruption of a computer program.

The first stories with their hints of otherworldly mystery are compelling. We begin to realize the same character appears in all the sections which span several hundred years. There is concern for social justice, choosing the moral path, finding peace, speculation on the impartiality of disease.

But the book travels to an obscure ending where people worry that they are living in a computer simulation (which implies a programmer). I can’t see why the author presents this idea as disturbing. Hasn’t humanity been saying for centuries that God has a plan? It sounds like the same familiar concept to me, just updated language.

Every once in a while this happens.  Such a good story, but it falls flat at the end.

As a constable in the fictional town of Lochdubh in the real Sutherland County on the west coast of Scotland, he enjoys the beauty of the rugged Highlands, refusing any idea of promotion to a larger town. Not that he isn’t able. His wily Scottish intuition is more than a match for the criminals he encounters. In this most recent mystery, published in 2023, Hamish tracks down the killer of a blackmailer, learning the varied secrets of the Highland neighbors on his beat.

M. C. Beaton, the prolific author of this and the popular Agatha Raisin series, died in 2019. At the end of her life she started to work with R. W. Green who is continuing to write the two series, both of which list the two of them as authors. Death of a Traitor is a fun and seamless transition.

No, they have chosen instead to go to the library, to listen to a reading of Robert McCloskey’s children’s books and see an exhibit of his original drawings. It helped that the reader was McCloskey’s daughter, and the library is in Maine where he lived. Remember Make Way for Ducklings? or Time of Wonder?

I like the last words of The Time of Wonder when summer is ending and it is time to go home. The author describes the feeling as “a little bit sad about the place you are leaving, but a little bit glad about the place you are going.” Such an apt description of an emotion that is a large part of life.

You can find this charming nostalgic piece, “One Morning in Maine,” by Elisabeth Egan, in the New York Times, August 25.

Along the lines of the pink hat sentiment is this great quote from Matt Bai in the Washington Post, August 17. “Asking Donald Trump to pledge loyalty to anything really, other than himself, is like asking my dog to write a novel. She might look at you like she understands the concept, but trust me, she doesn’t.” 

And if a person wishes to go further, once her mind is uploaded, she may opt to merge her uploaded consciousness with that of others, thus gaining access to the collective. Alternate memories of shared events can be accessed; other points of view are experienced; true understanding is available.  The name of the company that does this is Mandala (a Sanskrit word meaning a symbol of the universe in its ideal form, transformed from suffering to joy).

But to some, this technology is a candy/gingerbread house – alluring on the outside, but lethal.  Anyone can access anyone else’s buried memories; “counters” keep statistics of innermost motives which are sold to business and media; privacy is nonexistent.   

Why anyone would do such a thing is the crux of the book, which aside from this one fanciful bit of technology, is not science fiction or fantasy.  People have an intense desire to feel a part of something bigger than themselves (as any religion will tell us). 

The different ways that people seek connection, with or without a machine, make up the individual stories in this book. Narratives are told in different times, in different voices, and with different structures (emails, conversations, instructions) but each character has a connection to someone in another chapter. An organizational chart Is helpful.  The way the story is told is much like real memory – it comes in bits and pieces.

The symmetry of the beginning and ending is very satisfying. There is some beautiful imagery, “Snow swarmed like honeybees…it slathered tree trunks and sparkled like crushed diamonds…A lavender lunar radiance filled the park.” It is a thoughtful exploration, maybe a warning, of how much technology should be allowed into our lives. 

Two women go to the gym and leave with each other’s bag.  One contains a pair of red alligator Christian Louboutin stilettos. Sam, having no other shoes at the moment, wears them to her next business meeting where, feeling unusually good about herself, she more than clinches the deal. Crushes it. The second woman, Nisha, entitled and spoiled, finds herself cut off, discarded, and stepped on by her super rich husband who has been planning to divorce her for months. 

Do clothes make the woman?  Does sex sell?  Can the wicked stepsister turn into Cinderella?  Ideas we’ve met before are updated and mixed with more current issues.  Mix-ups ensue; friendships are made; love is found; villains are punished. 

The tenants in the six apartments of Lichfield House, in London, recognize each other, may nod hello, have the occasional conversation.  In the building across the street live the Asians and the beautiful mysterious Tigerlily.  Do any of these neighbors know each other at all?  Rendell explores a favorite theme of hers, human miscommunication, and in a masterpiece of misdirection brings her characters together in a portrait of modern relationships.

The voice of one of them tells the main part of the story. The voice of a daughter, a transgender eighteen-year-old, tells a second part. The main purpose of the book is to educate, through storytelling, about domestic abuse and transsexuality. 

One of the plots that holds things together is the murder trial of the young woman’s boyfriend.  There is also their teenage love story. There is also the beekeeping. There is a lot going on in this one book. 

Mad honey is a real thing.  Made from rhododendron flowers, it is a hallucinogen causing vomiting, dizziness, and fainting, among other things.  In other words, it looks sweet but is really poisonous, an apt metaphor for abusive partners and phony friends and neighbors.

Micah’s life is quiet and orderly.  He has a small non stressful IT business that gets him by, a nice enough apartment in a building he manages, and a relationship with a thirty something fourth grade teacher who makes few demands. When he dreams he has found a baby in the supermarket, he is told it means he will have a change.  When it comes, in the form of a college girlfriend’s son, it is not the sharp jolt we at first expect, but a gentle epiphany.

It is not the pleasure trip they had expected.  The new relative asks for their financial help in recovering property taken from their Japanese family during WWII.  Rei, a part time investigator, becomes immersed in the history of an old plantation village and meets a charming big landowner/developer.  The situation escalates when there is a fire and a young cousin is suspected of arson and murder.  Sailing into the midst of all this (on a yacht which was part of the Transpacific Yacht Race from California to Hawaii) is her military intelligence boyfriend.

This is an intricate mystery with likeable characters, but it is the setting in the full sense of the word that adds to the appeal.  Anyone who has visited Hawaii, but especially those who live there either full or part time, will enjoy the namedropping of familiar towns, attractions, even restaurants. The physical setting, the leeward or Ewa side of Oahu, is not the lush tropical green Hawaii typically described, but a dry, sunny place where more locals than tourists can be found.  Rei’s interactions with the Japanese side of her family open a window onto Japanese history and traditions which color the atmosphere of the whole book.

Along the way she makes a potential friend when she meets a failed judo star living on the grounds of a Buddhist temple, and learns to make peace with her almost-fiancé’s loud troublesome brother.

A river is wonderful
It keeps the fish from drying out

One of the main subjects of Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro is the coming coexistence of artificial intelligence (AI) with our natural world.  To give a small taste of AI’s present capabilities, I’m printing two reviews about Klara. One was written by Microsoft’s new AI program ChatGPT and the second is mine. After them are some excerpts of what the program can do with different points of view. If I didn’t identify them, would you know they were written by a computer? Thanks to my grandson for technical assistance with this.

Our first request was simply to write a 200-word summary and here is what the program (instantly) wrote:

Klara and the Sun is a novel by Kazuo Ishiguro that tells the story of Klara, an Artificial Friend (AF) who is designed to be a highly advanced robot companion for children. Set in a dystopian future, the novel explores themes of artificial intelligence, humanity, and the nature of consciousness. 

Klara is an AF with exceptional observational skills and a unique perspective on the world. She is purchased by a teenage girl named Josie, who is suffering from an unspecified illness. As Klara adjusts to life in Josie’s home, she becomes increasingly curious about the human emotions and behaviors she observes. She develops a deep attachment to Josie and is determined to understand the mysteries of human existence, including love and mortality.

As Klara navigates her world, she encounters other AFs and humans, including Rick, a former AF who works at the store where Klara was purchased, and Mr. Capaldi, a reclusive scientist who holds the key to understanding Klara’s true purpose. Klara’s journey is both heartwarming and thought-provoking as she grapples with her own identity and the limitations of her programming.

Throughout the novel, Ishiguro raises philosophical questions about what it means to be alive, the nature of consciousness, and the ethical implications of creating artificial beings. “Klara and the Sun” is a poignant and introspective exploration of humanity, identity, and the complexities of AI, told through the eyes of a captivating and compassionate artificial friend.

Klara, Josie’s best friend, has no questions about her purpose in life.  She lives to make Josie happy, to care for and protect her, because Klara, a solar powered AF, is programmed that way.  Kazuo Ishiguro, in Klara and the Sun, welcomes us to the near future when elite teenagers are tutored by experts via computer at home and need the companionship of an AF, Artificial Friend, for company.

We meet Klara when she is newly made, living in a store, waiting to be chosen as a best friend.  She is learning about her environment, and we see as she does in pixels and shapes. Josie, the human who chooses her, is a metaphor for the benefits and risks of technology in our lives.  She is especially intelligent and privileged but has a mysterious illness which brings a note of disquiet to the story.

Josie’s father, when he comes to visit, nicknames her Animal, an unsubtle commentary about one of the main issues.  Exactly what is the difference between Klara and Josie who have indeed  become best friends?  Is there really a special spark in the human or is it all just chemicals and programming?

On the surface, this is a timely story about coming of age, friendship, family and the choices that define who a person is. Underneath is the provocative question of how much we want technology, computers, robots, and AI to intersect with our lives.

We thought that seeing what AI could do was fun, so we asked the program to write a few more reviews. Up on the screen they appeared, as fast as we could ask. Here is part of one written from the perspective of an 80-year-old avid reader. 

Klara and the Sun is a remarkable novel that transported me to a world both familiar and yet unsettlingly different. As an 80-year-old avid reader, I have delved into countless literary realms, but Kazuo Ishiguro’s latest work struck a chord deep within me.

The story revolves around Klara, an Artificial Friend with a unique perspective on life. Ishiguro’s masterful prose painted vivid images of a society where artificial beings coexist with humans, creating a thought-provoking backdrop for exploring complex themes. Klara’s innocence and unwavering loyalty reminded me of simpler times, evoking a sense of nostalgia for my own youth.

Through Klara’s eyes, I witnessed the fragility of human relationships and the depths of loneliness. The novel delves into profound questions about the nature of consciousness and the ethical implications of creating sentient beings. Ishiguro’s insightful exploration of these themes left me pondering the essence of what it truly means to be alive…

Here’s an excerpt from “write like a British teenager:” (If you were her teacher, would you know she hadn’t written it herself?)

Klara and the Sun is an extraordinary novel that takes us on a thought-provoking journey into a not-so-distant future. Set in a world where artificial beings called AFs (Artificial Friends) exist, the story follows Klara, a highly intelligent AF with exceptional observational skills.

As a British teenager, I was immediately captivated by Klara’s perspective. Through her eyes, I witnessed a society divided by technological advancements and socioeconomic disparities. Klara’s innocence and unwavering curiosity about the world around her made her a relatable and endearing protagonist….

And finally, we asked for a casual American teenage version:

Yo, mate! Let me tell you about this wicked book called “Klara and the Sun.” It’s a futuristic story set in a world where artificial humans called AFs exist. So, our main gal, Klara, is one of these AFs, and she’s mad intelligent and observant.

Klara’s on a mission to find a special someone to be her owner. She’s all about this chick named Josie, who’s sick and needs some serious help. Klara’s got this wicked thing called “artificial friendliness” that makes her super sweet and caring. She’s like a next-level robo-buddy….

Another word for these qualities is soul, which is exactly what ChatGPT lacks. Left wholly naked in front of the A.I. onslaught may be the writers of certain formulaic best sellers, but that’s a matter for their agents.”

Addendum – In our book group, opinions were very divided about the book and about AI. I think it is very interesting that none of the machine generated reviews (about another machine) are negative, but are invariably positive. Should we be worried about this or is it just that ChatGPT has been programmed to be nice?

Except for one unsuccessful foray onto the mainland, Moses Sweetland has lived on a tiny island off the coast of Newfoundland all his life.  Its population has dwindled along with the cod industry, and the Canadian government will pay all residents to be resettled on the mainland.  Then, all services, electricity, ferry, will stop.  The one stipulation of the generous buyout offer is that all residents must agree.  Moses refuses to go.

What makes him want to stay is one of the major questions of the novel.  The charming curmudgeon is a common trope in literature, but Moses doesn’t have the charming part.  Neither does the island itself.  He is taciturn and acerbic; the island is rainy, cold, and bleak. 

But Moses earns our respect.  The island which we see as unattractive, he sees as home.  It is his environment and he lives in it skillfully, trapping, fishing, and gardening.  We see a deep-seated love for his neighbors in his willingness to help even the most stubborn and unlikable, and in his affection for the autistic nephew he treats as a son.  His memories of dead family members and friends keep them alive.  

Habitats, and worlds, disappear every day.  Included in this story is the plight of immigrants who have been set adrift in the fog by their smugglers.  We can also think of rising sea levels which are eating away coastal communities; condos or small neighborhoods being bought up by developers; people whose lifelong jobs have been computerized.

Michael Crummey is a poet as well as a novelist and his lively language is one of the better parts of the book.  Some is very salty; there is lots of “Newfoundlandese,” the idioms of the place, and there is the sharp and funny repartee between Moses and his neighbors. The names are ironic.  Sweetland (also the name of the island) is anything but, and Moses refuses to join his people, never mind lead them anywhere.

Maybe because we are presented with unattractive characters in an unattractive setting the focus of the book is all the sharper.  We see the pain of anyone forced to leave any home against their wishes.  The question of whether anything could or should be done to help them looms.

For years before she was forced to leave, there had been a serious economic depression.  People lost their jobs and homes; there was rioting and looting.  “Something must be done!” people said.  The government stepped in with PACT, The Preserving American Culture and Traditions Act.

“PACT is more than a law.  It is a promise we make to each other, a promise to protect our American ideals and values; a promise that for people who weaken our country with un-American ideas, there will be consequences.”

Un-American would come to be defined as objecting to the protections of PACT…  or refusing to report neighbors for “unusual” behavior… or being appalled at the “consequences” which included the removal of children from suspect parents… or looking Asian.  Bird’s Chinese mother, a poet, one whose words were chosen by the resistance, was a prime target of the government removal program. She left the family so Bird would not be taken from his father.

This lush story is full of fairy tales, poems, etymology, and descriptive meanderings.  It is just right for readers who love to conjure up a complete picture of the characters and setting.  Those who prefer plot and action will find it tedious and wordy. The subjects, separation of children from parents (like at the Mexican border) and targeting of the Chinese (think Covid) are not just current but have strong historical roots in our country.  The premise that art can fight ignorance and oppression is a hopeful one.

As in her first Matthew Venn mystery, Cleeves pairs the thoughtful, organized, careful inspector with the looseness of an artistic community run by his creative husband.  She explores the relationship of this gay couple and Venn’s strained relationship with his widowed Evangelical mother.  Cleeves’ supporting characters are equally strong.  Detective Sergeant Rafferty, an escapee from an abusive marriage, enjoys a good party and worries about her teenagers.  Detective Constable May, who tries not to be too old school macho, notices a coolness in the wife he dearly loves.

Cleeves continues to write about the treatment of mental illness.  In this case it is depression and suicide that form the backdrop as she describes the British government’s difficulty in providing treatment. 

But the subject matter doesn’t intrude.  This is a good story!  A fast-paced captivating plot with lots of twists keeps the reader quickly turning pages.

---

Sometimes it doesn’t take many words…

Twenty years later in England at the start of World War Two, Elinor hones her skills and once again works to defeat the Germans.  She excels at her job but is caught between competing factions of British Intelligence.  

After the war, she is given a grace-and-favor home from the government in the quiet countryside, but peace is not yet to be.  Her neighbors, a hard-working young couple with a charming little daughter, are bullied by his violent family.  Elinor calls on her training and connections from two world wars to help them.

Three different stories set in three different times, World War I, World War II, and the late 40’s, make up this engaging novel.  Elinor White, multi-lingual, capable, and likeable, is an equal to Winspear’s popular Maisie Dobbs.

Five years ago, Tim had taken his good friends, his best man and groomsmen, on a camping trip for his bachelor party.  He never returned.  Now, for the fifth time, Tim’s father, his friends, several experienced searchers, plus a cadaver dog named Daisy will conduct a final search, and Frankie will join them.

From the beginning, they know that something is wrong.  Food disappears, there are the un-animal like shrieks at night, and there are unlikely accidents.  Soon the situation is dire.  More than one member of their group of eight needs to be evacuated and the lack of supplies is dangerous.  Who or what is stalking their group and what is the connection to the missing bridegroom? 

This exciting mystery with the unexpected ending is the second in the Frankie Elkin series and one of the more than twenty suspense novels by this NYT best-selling author.

But this is a novel, and after a while action is expected.  Soon it begins to unfold.  William’s second wife leaves him.  Next, through an online ancestry service, William discovers that he has an older half-sister who was a toddler when his mother abandoned her and married his father.  William and Lucy, although long divorced, have remained friends, and he turns to her for support in this time of turmoil.

But the action is secondary.  Like Strout’s other novels, Oh William deals with character and insight.  For example, Lucy talks a lot about feeling guilty for leaving William.  But she also tells, several times, that he had had multiple affairs during their marriage.  Why then is it SHE who feels guilty and takes the blame for the breakup?  Strout explores the lasting effects of childhood abuse and poverty, the difficulty in knowing the truth about ourselves, and the problems of understanding the relationships we see.

The article goes on to say that she is “swapping her ‘domestic goddess’ persona for something a little saucier: badass Martha, a hottie who, it would seem, will shuck her inhibitions as lightly as an ear of corn.”

Well!  On one hand, I want to say, “Go, Martha.” On the other hand, I want to say, “Still?  Must we push ourselves to look glamorous and thin even at 81?”  Back to hand one – why not look our best no matter what our age?  Maybe I can’t pull off the glamour look, but I don’t want to wear a kerchief and a dumpy black dress either.  If I believe that we should all try to learn and do new things, even in our 80s and 90s, I will have to say, “Good for you, Martha!” 

I also like that the Sports Illustrated cover helps expand the meaning of “geriatric” to include the possibility of beauty, health and sexiness.  At a party, I heard a young woman say that she was irritated to be referred to (at 35) as a geriatric mother.  I see her point, but only if geriatric is considered all bad.  If the word includes “picture on Sports Illustrated,” then I’m perfectly ok with it.

Energetic, supremely talented, simply “The Best,” she has left a legacy of music, instantly recognizable, that will be remembered for generations.

Lucy and her mother inhabit two different worlds, but for an interlude of five days, they meet in the neutral ground of a hospital.  Lucy drinks in the attention of her mother who she hasn’t seen in years. Her happiness and contentment rise from the page giving the reader the same feeling of peace and restfulness. 

The two gossip about the people they knew when Lucy was growing up.  We then meet these characters from the past and hear their own points of view; the novel moves back and forth always returning to the unifying element of the hospital room.  Lucy and her mother do not discuss their own relationship – how it was then or what it is now.  They don’t discuss the extreme poverty and abusiveness of Lucy’s childhood or her budding success as a writer.  Mom is not interested.

Little action happens, but through her concise prose, Strout manages to expose the realities of family relationships and the conflicting needs of its members.  She dares to suggest that for adults, there may be something more important than an intact nuclear family.

Through these separate stories, various subjects are explored.  Should we ruthlessly pursue happiness (anything is possible) or dutifully accept our lot?  Strout is also interested in how little we know about the realities of the lives of our friends and family except for the little bits that we happen to share.  She continues to explore the subject of loneliness within apparently compatible relationships.  There is the lasting impact of poverty on children’s lives. 

Some of the language is just beautiful.  A character yearns for a glimpse of a forbidden and secret love. “(He would) risk all to be near the white dazzle of the sun that somehow for those moments seemed to leave the earth behind.”  The outpouring of a stream of consciousness at the end of the novel builds tension and wonder, leaving the reader satisfied even if the outcome is uncertain.   

Jarrett was with Lexington the day the colt was born.  Both the young boy and the horse were especially gifted.  Lexington, a natural star, outpaced the competition from the first race.  Jarett, a natural trainer, brought out the very best in his charge, enabling him to win a fortune for their master.  The care of the horse and life on the plantation is told in detail.  As Lexington is bought and sold, so is Jarrett.  He counts himself lucky to be allowed to stay with the horse.  His plight as one of the enslaved trainers puts a spotlight on a category of unrecognized people who brought wealth and fame to their stables.

A parallel story told in the present time begins when a black art student rescues a painting of a horse from the “free” pile at a curb. He coincidentally meets a young white scientist from the Smithsonian (she is an osteo preparator, someone who cleans and assembles animal bones) who is working on a neglected horse skeleton.  It is Lexington they both have found and they are drawn to discover his story.  As their own relationship grows, we see that the racism of the 1800’s is alive and well in Washington D.C.

Brooks says she started to write a novel about horse racing but soon realized that her story needed to include the other kind of race as well.  I wish she had chosen one to be predominant rather than presenting two equally detailed main subjects. The book felt crowded. Nonetheless, it is a very enjoyable read that presents lots of horse/racing information, several compelling story lines, plus well developed, very likable characters, including the horse.

A bit of fun information is that Brooks herself owns a horse with the memorable name of Screaming Hot Wings.

Is Muo familiar with psychoanalysis because he studied it or because he was the recipient?  He says the first, but there are hints it is the latter.  Why is he travelling around the countryside?  He is looking for a virgin.  Because this is the price of getting his beloved, a political prisoner, out of jail.  Although it is illegal to bribe a judge, it is the way business is done, and this particular judge has plenty of money, but no virgins. 

The plot travels at a very leisurely pace.  We listen in on some of the dreams recounted.  We read exact descriptions of everything seen, felt, encountered.  They are possibly poetic.  They are possibly making fun of the pretentious intellectual or the aspirations to become one.   

Why read this?  It is tongue-in-cheek funny, although the humor is a little weird.  There is the wild panda reserve called Observation Post of Panda Droppings; the aphrodisiac chapter about sea cucumbers, the description of two bicycle riders, “(he) peddling against the wind, hunched over the handlebars, raincoat flapping, and she on the rack behind him, knitting a sweater that streams like a scarf behind her.”

Some of the best parts are the casual descriptions of everyday life in China after the Cultural Revolution is over, the filthy urinals, overcrowded trains, long queues, mahjong parties, music listened to, food eaten.  As befitting a story about Freud, it is full of subtle sexual symbols and not so subtle sex.

In this story of a quest, our quixotic hero overcomes obstacles and perseveres in the face of adversity hoping to find a virgin in the rural provinces of southern China.

Ernaux begins this novella with “From September last year, I did nothing else but wait for a man:  for him to call me and come round to my place.”  Written as a memoir, the book tells the story of a young woman obsessed with an older married man.  It isn’t a book that details sex, but a book about the feeling of a passion that consumes the waking hours, the thoughts, the dreams, the hopes of a young woman. She writes, “to find out whether other people have done or felt the same things…for them to consider experiencing such things as normal.”  She is not interested in justifying or explaining, just portraying. The details of her feelings become tedious.

Although Ernaux and Nabokov both write about erotic passion, I think other strong emotions such as grief or rage can consume a person in the same way, demanding the subject be thought about again, again, and again.

But in Louise Penny’s latest, A World of Curiosities, the battle is joined.  There has always been a touch of saintliness (or more) about Inspector Gamache, his rescues of fallen angels and lost souls, the heroic Quebec Sureté team that he leads. 

Gamache knows that evil exists.  He has seen it in the eyes of too many he has put behind bars.  And one of them, from the iciest part of Dante’s hell, has escaped and sent the message.  I am coming for you.

The story starts with a graduation honoring two young women with ties to Three Pines and the Gamaches. There is a tinge of sadness to the occasion which also commemorates an event of the past, a massacre of young women who had dared to attend that very engineering school. 

A back story introduces two main characters, children then, who had been abused and pimped by their business minded mother who is found dead.

Odd things start to happen.  A hundred-year-old letter is delivered; a bricked up hidden room is found; a painting with cryptic messages appears.  “Curiouser and curiouser.”  Before long, curious is no longer the right word; the first murder happens.  Gamache starts to unravel the puzzles and finds a diabolical plan of revenge aimed directly at him and his family.

He lists some of the most colorful prose he has recently read. How have I missed this?  Here are some excerpts:

A comment on a movie: “Allegedly, it’s based on true events, in much the same way that ‘Pinocchio’ is based on string theory.”

Much was political and this time, Ron DeSantis was the butt of several comments: “There are universities like Harvard and Yale, which DeSantis attended but did not inhale.”  Or, “He might unplug your life support to re-charge his cellphone.”(Yeow!)

A quote from David Brooks: “The G.O.P. is a working-class populist party that has no interest in nurturing highly educated boom towns.  The G.O.P. does everything it can to repel those people—and the Tesla they drove in on.”

One of the easiest things you can do to continue to find the book of your choice on the shelf is to check out a banned or challenged book from your local library.  Libraries keep statistics!  To find a suggestion, look at The American Library Association website.  They publish a list of the ten most challenged books each year.

Her small hometown has little to offer an artistic child other than the church and its hymns.  But Thea is lucky.  There is the town doctor who appreciates her intelligence; the German-trained piano teacher who recognizes her musical ability; the deep feeling Mexican guitar player who sings with her; a mother who keeps six siblings out of the way; and finally, the railroad man who falls in love with her and because of a twist of fate offers her a start.

Through a combination of good fortune and hard work, her talent unfolds.  As she moves into the world, Thea draws the necessary mentors to her.  That they are all men shows Cather’s recognition of where, in those times, powerful help could be found.  Finally, it is Thea herself who must draw from within to achieve what she envisions. 

The first section of the book is filled with lovely descriptions of life on the prairie around Colorado and must have done much to romanticize the American view of the West. “…a little rabbit with a white spot of a tail…It seemed to be lapping up the moonlight like cream…the sprawling old house had gathered them all in, like a hen, and had settled down over its brood…the days were bathed in sunlight and the air was clear as crystal…the desert glistened with light…the scarlet sage bloomed…”

The lark (of the title) introduces the natural world and is an apt image. We think of Thea, a girl of the prairie, with her beautiful voice. Shakespeare and Chaucer thought of the lark as a symbol of morning, or awakening, appropriate for someone at the start of a musical career.

Cather talks a lot about specialness, the quest for perfection, the discipline and sacrifice necessary to make a first-rate professional artist.  She may have specified “artist” because that was one of the few alternate roles available to women at that time.  I think that today, we might enlarge that word to encompass other gifts as well (gymnastics, math, chess).   Her point, that the bigger the talent the more it demands and takes over a life, is true for any of them. There is a made-for-television movie of Song of the Lark produced for Masterpiece Theater in 2001.

Sunshine music festivals and civil rights marches, however, are not what come to mind for him.  He remembers happiness that disappeared, the loss of his two best friends to suicide, and the disorientation, depression, and grief that followed.

This is not a typical Murakami.  There is no magical realism and no unexplained coincidences; rather, it is a straightforward story dealing with loyalty, choice, and love.  On one side, there is Naoko, a damaged young woman to whom Toru is attracted and wants to help.  On the other is Midori, a vibrant sexual woman with whom he has also fallen in love.  Guilt and honor force him to a standstill as he tries to find a way forward.

The lyrical language contrasts the quiet of the rural areas with the cacophony of Tokyo, continuing the contrast of the book between peace and escape, and anxiety and activity.  “Some houses had laundry drying in the sun…firewood out front piled up to the eaves, usually with a cat resting somewhere on the pile…the moonlight cast long shadows and splashed the walls with a touch of diluted India ink.”

Emerging from the story is a criticism Murakami has made before about the falseness of society and the intense pressure to succeed and keep up appearances.  The students who die are beautiful young people with excellent grades who on the surface fulfill all the expectations of school and family.  In the background of this culture of forced conformity plays the music of the 60s and overtones of the US cultural revolution.  There are both a playlist and a movie based on the book.

When DI Venn investigates a body found on the beach, he soon realizes that the murdered man has connections to his husband’s community center, a venture that combines an art workshop with a day shelter for learning disabled adults. Before long, two vulnerable women with Down’s syndrome are missing.  Continuing to appear in the investigation are the glad-handing leader of Matthew’s ex-church and his subservient wife.  It is an intricate plot with sympathetic characters.

This book, along with both of Cleeves’ other detective series, have been made into television programs (The Long Call, Vera and Shetland) available on BritBox, Acorn, etc.  I found Vera and Shetland on disk (not streaming) from Netflix.  These are fast-moving exciting shows.  So fast, that when they are over, I am not sure what happened. 

Ah – the joys of reading the mystery instead.  I can move along at my own pace, even turn back the pages if necessary, and thoroughly enjoy an excellent story.

One morning, a white man, Anders, wakes to see that he has turned “a deep and undeniable brown.”  He feels like a stranger to himself; he is deeply shaken; he calls in sick, he won’t leave the house.  The color does not change back and eventually he tries to resume his life.  He goes to work; he calls his girlfriend; he tells his father. 

But Anders isn’t alone.  There are rumors of others turning dark and the rumors are true.  Soon, the nation is in turmoil as more whites turn dark brown.  Hamid’s riff on skin color, appearance, and sense of self, probes the depths of feeling this change exposes.  “I’d rather kill myself,” says his boss when he looks at Anders.  It took me awhile to realize that no one in the story felt that turning brown was a good or even neutral thing.  They all felt that no longer being white was a loss.  I’m still thinking about the implications of that. 

As more and more people turn dark, a sense of panic sets in.  There are echoes of the pandemic – hoarding, violence, isolation.  His girlfriend’s mother turns to right wing television, believing that “we” are winning, and “they” will disappear.  Anders’ father takes him in, feeling a visceral need to protect this son although he no longer looks like one.  For Oona, the girlfriend, these deaths of identity echo the recent deaths of her father and brother.

This story has a happy ending.  But one of the reasons it is happy is that everyone is now the same color.  Hamid leaves so much unsaid, leaving the implications of the plot to emerge slowly.

From the very first sentence, I thought of Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, a comparison, I believe, Hamid meant to evoke.  In it, a young man wakes up to find that he has been turned into a cockroach.  He also can hardly look at himself, waits to return to normal, won’t go to work, etc.  The points of the two stories are different but the openings are equivalent, Hamid implies.  In one, a person wakes up dark brown; in the other he wakes up a cockroach.  This innocent appearing novel has driven its accusation home.

Dai Sijie uses this desire as the basis of Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress. During the Chinese Cultural Revolution of the 1960s, two teenage boys are sent to the mountains for reeducation for the crime of having parents who were professionals.  The boys live among the peasants, joining them in hard labor, sometimes dangerous, sometimes repulsive.

Then, two pivotal things happen.  First, they find and appropriate a hidden cache of forbidden books (Western novels!) which they read for the first time. 

“We were seduced, overwhelmed, spellbound by the mystery of the outside world, especially the world of women…with the ardour and earnestness of my eighteen years, I fell in love with one author after another…I would never have understood the splendour of taking free and independent action as an individual…”

Second, the boys fall in love.  She is the beautiful daughter of the local tailor and Luo, the leader of the two, resolves to read the books to her.  The power of literature is felt by all three in ways they could not have imagined.

This short easy-to-read novel, based on events in the author’s own life, is full of information about a particular time and place in history, plus the universal experience of coming of age.

And for the word lovers among us: The title reminded me of that obscure, interesting word synecdoche which means a part of something representing a whole. For example – what will the White House do to prevent bank failures? (“White House” representing “Federal government.”) In the case of our novel, Sijie uses “Balzac” to represent “great literature” and the ability it has to change lives.

In this current novel, she looks at the political ideals of 18-year-olds from the perspective of middle age and recognizes how one impassioned behavior can affect the trajectory of a lifetime. 

Venice still casts its spell; Brunetti decides that deceit can be an excellent tool; Signorina Elettra is disappointed in the computer skills of Interpol; Sara, a stray dog, taken in by the next-door convent, provides the key to the mystery.

Leon develops the biblical quote in the title by using two garden images.  There is the peace and fruitfulness of the well-kept, orderly garden of the nuns and their Buddhist helper which is the ideal.  There is the ugly chaotic overgrown garden which is the reality the police deal with every day.

At the end it is Sara who enjoys both gardens plus her new home. “In the manner of Saint Francis, she considers humans to be her brothers and sisters, and thus she passes her days in harmony with both nature and mankind.”

Here is something fun to end with: