The Friend by Sigrid Nunez
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The Friend won the National Book Award in 2018 and finally I read it and know why. The plot is usually described as: “After the loss of her beloved friend/mentor, a writer adopts his heartbroken dog.” Dogs in books are usually a promise of comfort, and nowadays it’s not just us elders, the military, and health workers that might know more dead folks than living ones; “How does one go on” is more relevant than ever.
There’s so much of life and death explored in this very short book: love and loss, aging, pets and grief, suicide and survival, career and relationships, friendship and mentorship, power and privilege. Almost every review has a different take on the book—a sign of how excellent it is. Age, interests, and temperament all have a role to play in how you perceive the book, making it a great pick for bookclubs. Some will get into the East Coast academia setting, some will find it off-putting. Whether everyone enjoys the book or not, most can relate to something in it and there’s so much to talk about, it’ll make a lively discussion!
A literal “literary” novel, with writers as main characters and many (very apt) quotes & references to the arts, the book starts as a journal in the form of missives to the departed. It’s not an exploration of the textbook stages of grief, but more a realistic portrayal of how someone’s death—especially someone we’ve known a long time—can force us to re-examine not only the relationship, but our own lives. In this case, so much of the main character’s life requires reframing that she ends up in therapy. Her friend didn’t actually leave her the dog, but the current wife never wanted a dog and won’t keep him. The dog Apollo is bereft, and the writer is also; she takes him in and he becomes the center of both her grief and her healing. Our pets: our relationships, our projections, our selves, our best beloveds. The comfort is there.
For me, the book revealed itself in the last forty pages. The Friend is a meditation on friendship—cross-sex and cross-species, an homage to the souls of dogs, and a brilliant, gently vicious exposé of the dead white male. It made me think, it made me cry, and it made me laugh—recommended!

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A Definite Amusement

Maggie Finds Her Muse by Dee Ernst
My rating: 4 of 5 stars


This delicious bit of froth is perfect for a blissful escape read. Maggie Bliss is a romance author who's on the verge of achieving Nora Roberts level success. Except her latest book is due in two months, and she hasn't written a word of it—she's been covering up for herself quite well, but if she doesn't turn the book in, the third book in the trilogy—the book tour for volume two is off, the important cable deal is definitely off, and fans will be disappointed and angry. The stress!

At least she's finally motivated to dump her latest beau after seven years of growing obnoxiousness. When she finally fesses up about the writer's block to her agent, he offers her an apartment in Paris, complete with hereditary housekeeper, to pull off a miracle—a book in two months. What better city for romance writing than Paris, after all. Also good for meeting her daughter, who appears to be going to stay in Brittany forever.

It really is a pleasure to read a book with many likable characters, and who can resist Paris, home of food, fashion, and romance? Of course in this book the romance is not all in the novels Maggie writes. Her daughter has met someone, and also has dreams that her parents will reconnect as lovers, since they've remained friendly in the 20-plus years since their divorce. He's over on an after-breakup visit, as well.

And then there's Max, who she finds in her bathtub one morning, the perfect example of swoon-worthy Frenchmen. Max shows her all the wonders of Paris.

One of the things I love is that it's not all about the romance; the family & friends come off as real people, not mere place-holders. It's a hard thing to pull off a rom-com about a writer writing a book, and about women of a certain age finding love, and Ernst has done a masterful job. If you've been to Paris, you'll know if she pulled that off, but the lovely city she describes is certainly the Paris I've read about in other books. Good humor is the overall flavor of this book and I was left with the warm fuzzies. I look forward to future books!



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Death in Sicily: The First Three Novels in the Inspector Montalbano Series--The Shape of Water; The Terra-Cotta Dog; The Snack Thief by Andrea Camilleri
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

As I waited for the newest Donna Leon mystery, I searched for some read-alikes, and the Inspector Montalbano of Sicily series was the first suggested. Death In Sicily is actually an omnibus edition of the first three books in the series. By the time I finished the third one, I knew I was in for the long haul.

The author was a former television producer and director who worked on the Italian production of the Maigret series; he was privileged to observe the playwright who adapted the novels for the screen. It was a masterclass in storytelling, he says. Over the course of these three books, he learned character development, one of the most important things in a series: it’s not only the mystery plot, but the setting and characters that bring the stories to life—particularly necessary when death is a major theme.

Inspector Montalbano is a sensualist, delighting in the taste of wine, women, and food. He’s always trying to balance the need to maintain order without the harshness of enforcing the letter of the law. A need for justice and a tender heart don’t coexist comfortably. He’s impatient with his superiors and his staff, and it goes the other way, too. He’s in the process of possibly building a family in these first three books, something he wants and pushes away with the same amount of energy. I overlook how he thinks all the younger women are after him, since the other bits make up for it: interesting plots, village antics, quirky and sympathetic characters, lots of food—worth reading for menu ideas alone! Will Montalbano and his long-distance Livia ever commit to marriage? Will he finally go too far and actually punch one of his subordinates? Or his boss? What delicious strange delicacy will housekeeper Adelina leave for dinner next?

I enjoyed Montalbano’s Sicily as much as Brunelli’s Venice. I’m not sure I’ll ever like Montalbano as much as I do Brunelli; he’s a much cruder and more cynical guy. But he is equally as honorable in his job, and that’s his saving grace. As all mystery readers know, a simple seaside village in any country can play host to an infinite amount of murder despite its quaint atmosphere. It’s what keeps us reading.

Alas, October 2021 will be the publication of the final, 28th novel.

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Flawless Firekeeper

Firekeeper's Daughter by Angeline Boulley
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Honestly, I think part of the huge buzz about this excellent book is that eager readers are ready to sign up for whatever comes next from this author. The story is told through the perspective of Daunis Fontaine, an eighteen-year-old college freshman. Her coming-of-age story is seamlessly woven into a masterfully plotted mystery, for a read that's satisfying on all levels. Though the book was selected for Reese Witherspoon's YA Bookclub, it has great crossover appeal for older adults: for readers of Frederick Backman’s Beartown certainly, and especially for readers who’ve enjoyed Hillerman's Leaphorn and Chee, Bowen's Montana Métis mysteries, and Stabenow's Kate Shugak stories.
When writing about contemporary Native Americans, one must address poverty and prejudice, but this is not an "issues" book, nor is it preachy in any way. Those aren’t the basics of Native culture, they’re social influences. This book has everything in addition to poverty and prejudice: mystery, murder, sports, love, faith—and the indomitable spirit and character of the young Ojibwe woman and the community at its center. It was an honor to be invited into the heart of this community. One of the reasons I love this character so much is that she feels like a portrait of all the Native women the author has known and loved. I see in Daunis something of all the Native women I have known and loved, also.
Daunis walks between two worlds, that of her Native heritage and her white heritage, but it's a bit easier to fit in to the indigenous community; in the white world, even though her grandparents are rich, she's illegitimate. She's more accepted in the Ojibwe community, but she's not enrolled in the tribe and gets some flak there as well. She's set to go away to college but her uncle recently died and she decides to do her first year at the local community college to stay close to her fragile mom.
Her hockey star half-brother is in his senior year, and when she notices a bit too much about the new guy on the team, Daunis is recruited to an undercover investigation of a new kind of meth that's been showing up in the Upper Peninsula. Deception isn't natural to Daunis, and at first she refuses. But then tragedy strikes very close and she changes her mind. Using her science skills, her own hockey star background and her access to the community, she dances ever closer to danger.
It's such a pleasure to read a book that has such great characters, setting, and pacing. I'm hoping that this is the beginning of a series, but for whatever Angeline Boulley writes next, I'm impatiently waiting. Thank you, Ms. Boulley, for following your dream of writing. Highly recommended.

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The Book of Ana

The Book of Longings by Sue Monk Kidd
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

What better time to engage with the roots of Christian faith than the days before Easter, I thought. I could write five pages and do a weekend retreat on this book; it might engage you or enrage you—possibly both. I knew, with Kidd, I wasn’t going to get a fundamentalist approach; if you come from that background, like me, you’ll find plenty of triggers, in addition to a meticulously researched, brilliantly imagined adventure story.
It’s soon evident that The Book of Longings could be the title of a scroll found in a cave: Ana, the main character, is the privileged daughter of the head assistant of Herod Antipas. He’s allowed his daughter to read and write; she has all the skills of a scribe. She also has mystical experiences and a hunger for God. She becomes a woman at fourteen and loses her favored child status. She’s betrothed to a friend of her father, inspected in a public market. That horrible day, she has an encounter with Jesus. Their eyes meet across the crowd—you know how that part of the story goes. The Jesus that Ana encounters is a human Jesus, a carpenter and odd-jobber struggling to support his family after his father Joseph’s death. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever see him again, but it’s love at first sight. Ana has an older, adopted brother; his name is Judas, and he’s an agitator, a man fighting against Roman rule. Ana, Judas, and Jesus intersect, and Jesus does marry Ana. These are the years before the Baptist, before the dove.
The plot is contrived, but masterfully so. Many Bible parables are woven throughout this book, with the rest of Jesus’ story. It made me check my Nag Hammadi & encyclopedia of religious history, too.
Here are some of the themes: women in religion and history; spirit of the law and letter of the law; privilege and poverty; social justice versus status quo. In the relationship between Ana & Jesus there are echoes of Heloise & Abelard, Romeo & Juliet, Clare & Francis, Martha & Mary.
In the end, the most shocking thing about this book is that it is the book of Ana, and not the book of Jesus. Nevertheless, it was a good preparation for Easter, for it celebrates the ever-present God of Love and Wisdom.

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An Inspiration in Desolation

A Desolation Called Peace by Arkady Martine
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Of course you must read the previous book first. If you are a fan of intellectual space opera, you'll enjoy it. Also plenty of action. And you need to be able to enjoy a diverse culture with plenty of queer folk. If you have ever fallen in love with a "savage" culture because of poetry, you will especially enjoy these books. Enjoyed the homage to graphic novels in this one, that was fun.
I almost never give five stars after the first book in a series, because the novelty of the world-building is part of that 5th star, for me. After reading almost everything in SFF (started with my dad's 1950s mags in the 70s, went backwards & forwards), it takes a lot to get that 5th star. But this one delivers the same amazement, a perfect balance of art & craft. Brava!

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Humans by Brandon Stanton
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This is a book that I wish I could give to each of my friends and family. My heart has been touched, I’ve laughed, I’ve cried at the 400 or so amazing, tender stories presented here. Some folks might remember the work of Studs Terkel, an oral historian whose books of interviews with ordinary people telling of the Depression of the 1930s, on soldiering in our wars, and on working life were excerpted in Readers Digest and hit the bestseller lists in the 1970s-90s. These snapshots of regular people going about their lives and the words that accompany them are the closest thing I’ve seen to another body of work that celebrates our common humanity.
Brandon started out telling the stories of people he met on the streets of New York City, and then was able to travel around the world to over forty different countries. His work’s been such a hit because it’s both surprising and comforting to enter the lives of strangers. Stylish people who are deserts inside, homeless people whose hopes rise high: no matter people’s faces, no matter their ages, no matter the country they’re in—no matter what people seem to be like from the outside, our insides are all the same: various degrees of love, fear, judgement, wonder, grief, certainty, hope, despair, confusion.
Some of the stories I relate to so much; some make me sad or angry, others make me grateful for my own road taken. People talk about their pets, their relationships—or lack thereof—their joys, their sorrows; their childhoods, children, parents, schools, jobs; their opportunities and life losses. In this wide world, we’re each alone—and yet we’re all connected through shared experiences, through shared stories. All the friends we’ve known were just faces to us once, until we knew their stories. It’s curiously joyful—at the end of this awful year, in the season of love and new beginnings—to acknowledge that despite all the beliefs that divide us, we all have more in common than we fear in this fraught and changing world.
The coffee-table size book is good to be dipped into at random, savored in pieces or gulped wholesale, however you care to; it’s just a bit heavy for arthritic hands. It’s on sale at many retailers and I highly recommend this glimpse into the common soul of humanity.

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