Book Reviews – Page 6

A French dream come true

Our dear friends’ dream has come true. For 25+ years these friends have dreamed of moving to France and when they recently became empty-nesters, it was time to start seriously figuring it all out. They’ve spent many hours looking at hundreds and hundreds of homes on-line, and finally landed on (and bought) an old stone house in the countryside of France. The house needs some serious renovations, but it’s all theirs and with a combination of trepidation and giddy excitement, they gave notice to their landlord, quit jobs, and are packing up.

They won’t get a car, trains will take them long distances and bicycles for shorter trips. Their village (and yes, it is a small village) has all they require, a shop, a bakery, a hardware store, a bar, and a cafe – all a short walk down the main street. They plan to have a vegetable garden, currently buried in the overgrown yard. Their french is improving every day as they practice. We are so excited for them and they leave in just a few weeks.

Books (you knew this would turn to books) on this very same subject are legion and I’ve read many (as have my friends). So I thought I would share some here – in case you, too, are dreaming of a move to France.

Peter Mayle is probably the best known author of such memoirs and novels. They are a delight and worth picking up any of them at book sales or the library.

Then there is this series by Janine Marsh which I haven’t read, but are on my Kindle. Notice how similar the covers – they paint such an idyllic and charming picture of life in France. These look fun and I’ll get to them someday.

I read The French House years ago and passed it on to our francophile friends. This is an enchanting account of a family that tackles a house in rubbles, wins the hearts of a historic village, and finally finds the home they’ve been seeking off the wild coast of France.

The Olive Farm by Carol Drinkwater was another good read. Written by the famed actress from All Creatures Great and Small, this warm and funny memoir takes the reader from the glamour of Cannes to the sunny charm of their small plot of land, which they back breakingly transform from overgrown weeds into a thriving olive farm producing some of the finest olive oil in Provence.

Of course, one of my favorites is My Life in France, a brilliant journey with Julia Child — to read this book is to be right with her in France — tasting the food, smelling the baking bread, walking on the French cobblestones and embracing it all with Julia’s delight and gusto. Full review HERE.

French Dirt is a very fun and different memoir on moving to France and, yes, starting a garden. Part travelogue, part gardener’s journal, part pilgrimage and wholly enjoyable. What sets this tale apart from the plethora of “my life in France” books, is that Richard is such a hapless American on so many levels. His plans for his garden, forming friendships with the locals, and settling in to a new life often go awry.

You’ll chuckle and wince as he binge-buys plants and tries to sort out conflicting advice from the villagers — but then you cheer as he toils and worries over his garden, delights in its growth and is distraught by his garden disasters — all while the neighbors politely hide their amusement at the silly American.

And then there was the wonderfully quirky documentary series , Escape to the Chateau, which follows a British family as they trade in their two-bed apartment in Essex for a dilapidated 19th-century French chateau. Upon finding their fairytale castle, the pair begin work to restore it back to its former glory.

Bon Voyage Mes Amis~~ off to live your dream come true

N.B. They often asked if we would join them on this wonderful French venture, but we’ve already warned them that we’ll be frequent guests. Our dream came true 40 years ago when moved to San Francisco and found our little row house out here by the ocean.

The Gilded Mountain by Kate Manning

I very much enjoy reading and learning about history through fiction. The few non-fiction history books I’ve read were quite worthy, but I’ll admit, a struggle. I decided to finally read this much-touted historical novel which the publisher kindly sent me two years ago .

The novel revolves around early 20th-century Colorado mine workers and their struggles to unionize.

Hmm, I thought, this could be really interesting part of American history, of which I know nothing about.

The Gilded Mountain is set in a 1907, and opens with the Pelletier family’s treacherous journey from the east to Colorado to join their father who has secured work in a mine. Sylvie, her mother and two brothers travel through winter storms and rough terrain until they reach Moonstone Colorado, the mining town where they reunite with their father.

Once there Sylvie and her family endure hunger and dismal living conditions in a company-owned shack. Her father faces the dangerous conditions working in the marble mine and like the other workers, struggle for the paltry wages that are eaten up by rent and sparse food. Often the workers are not paid at all. Thus begins the roots of the Colorado mine workers labor movement.

As we follow Sylvie she first gets hired as the personal secretary to the mine owner’s wife and spends a summer observing the gilded life that the other half lives. The next summer, she gets a job with the town newspaper and begins to report and write about the mine labor issues and their attempts to form a mine workers union. She finds herself falling for Jace, the idealistic son of the mine owner, as well as George, a union organizer. Sylvie struggles with what to do with her life and her heart.

Still with me? Well good for you, because even trying to write about this book – I’m bored. And that’s exactly what happened with this novel. Oh readers, I wanted to like it, and the first half of the book was good, absorbing the reader in the grim realities of the Pelletier family trying to just survive just a day, a week — in the mining camp. The author does a nice job of settings – the descriptions of the dazzling white marble being mined by overworked miners, in unsafe conditions, often without pay, really stuck out.

But eventually it dawned on me, I had been putting this book down, and reading it became more and more laborious — I was bored, disinterested and had been forcing myself to keep on reading – but why?

Truth be told, I did not care a wit about any of the one-dimensional characters, I kept expecting more development – more depth to any of them. Sylvie became especially unbearable. But a bright spot before I left the book was Mother Mary Harris Jones — yes that Mother Jones – a force to be reckoned with. She marched and protested for the miners, with great energy and despite her ancient age. Her dialogue was snappy and real, but not enough to keep me reading.

There are racial issues brought up in the story line, even including quotes from one of the black writers of the time, W.E B. DuBois. But while racial conflicts had great consequences during this time – it felt forced into this story line.

Although I would have liked to know how everything ended, I looked at my pile of un-read books and thought this low key boredom is not why I read.

What did I take away from what I did read?

The Gilded Mountain is a stark treatise on the harsh life of miners in early 20th Century and I learned a bit about mining, union organizing and busting, entitled rich and the ways they kept their workers desperately poor.

But none of it had any real soul. I should have read a history book.

N.B. You all know how much I dislike bashing books and their authors and I truly recognize all the pain, work and dedication it takes to write and publish a book. But I have to be honest about my (and only my) assessment. Others obviously disagree — there are many rave reviews for this book — but well – that’s what makes the world go ’round.

There are plenty of other books and stories out in the world — many of them here at Book Barmy headquarters.

I’m off to start something new.

A digital review copy of The Gilded Mountain was kindly provided by ‎Scribner via Netgalley

The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh

It has been rainy and windy, my garden daffodils got pelted, and I was gloomy. So, as usual, I turned to my book shelves searching for something springlike.

I found this book, which I read ages ago — it even had my notes written up inside. I decided to revisit The Language of Flowers and ended up re-reading the entire book – ignoring the other stack of books awaiting me.

The novel follows Victoria Jones, a young woman who grew up in foster care system. Emotionally damaged by being abandoned at birth and childhood abuse, she is unable to maintain healthy relationships. She chooses self-destructing behavior and pushes herself away from those who might care.

Her one true connection is to flowers, and as a flower arranger, Victoria realizes she has a gift for helping others through the flowers she chooses for them. Each plant and flower holds a meaning and when placed skillfully and precisely in an arrangement, conveys deep meaning. The novel was inspired by a flower dictionary, a type of Victorian-era book which defines what different types of flowers mean (more on that at the end).

Victoria is flawed, insecure and yet strong — an often quite unlikeable. Nevertheless, she stole my heart from the beginning and I grew to empathize and love her more with each page. There were times when I just wanted to yell at her to wake up and get a grip. And, just when I thought she wouldn’t, she did just that. I truly enjoyed following Victoria’s journey. The characters and relationships that surround and shape her are complex and layered. Many of Victoria’s personal choices had me shaking my head, but as I re-read this fine novel, I found I was rooting for her to find her true happiness and contentment.

The flowers and their meanings are not just a gimmick of the novel — they add much depth and feelings to the story.

“I’m talking about the language of flowers. It’s from the Victorian era, like your name. If a man gave a young lady a bouquet of flowers, she would race home and try to decode it like a secret message. Red roses mean love; yellow roses infidelity. So a man would have to choose his flowers carefully.”

The Language of Flowers, offers a story of survival, strength and love, and it made my heart smile.

N.B. As I finished the book, I remembered a book in my gardening section (Yes, no surprise here, I have collections/and sections in my shelves.) someone in a former book group gave me this little gem. I put it next to my stack of books I plan to read – just to dip into – fascinating.

And our author, Ms. Diffenbaugh, has written the introduction to modern and updated take on this Victorian classic – but, I will stick with my cherished version above.

Orchid Mysteries by Michelle Wan

Only once was I able to visit Powell’s Bookstore in Portland, Oregon — the largest independent bookstore in the world. Husband and I were there on a short holiday to see the gardens (beautiful), explore the city (nice), and of course this infamous bookstore. Husband took a long look at the sign, then saw my astounded and delighted face — and decided he would retreat to a bar across the street to watch the basketball playoffs. It’s still a wonder that he puts up with me.

It was a wonderful hour or so just exploring and browsing. But, we had flown up to Portland for a long weekend, with only two small bags, so I had to limit my purchases to what I (and/or Husband) could carry. In the end, I showed up at the bar with tired feet and just a small bag of books.

These books were part of that haul:

These are the first two in a series of orchid murder mysteries set in Dordogne region of south west France. I read the first, Deadly Slipper immediately upon returning from out trip, but the second one, Orchid Shroud, has long waited patiently on my shelves, unread…

I went back and skimmed through the first to remind myself what the mystery was about and soon I was re-reading entire chapters. I found my notes in the back of the book, so will tell you this all about this well-written and unique mystery

Deadly Slipper by Michelle Wan

In the Dordogne in the south west of France, Mara Dunn is trying to find out what happened to her twin sister, Bedie, who disappeared nineteen years earlier. While it is a long shot, Mara needs to find out what happened to her sister and get on with her life.

Beatrice “Bede” Dunn was fascinated with wild orchids and wild orchid hunting, and became passionate about documenting the existence the breeding grounds of a particular species. In 1984 she and her boyfriend, Scott, went on a hiking and orchid hunting holiday in the Dordogne. When it began to rain, the couple had an argument about whether to leave their camp and seek shelter elsewhere or to stay put. Bede was adamant about remaining and so she did – alone. When Scott returned two days later the tent and their things were still at the campsite, but Bede was gone, along with her camera, backpack, Michelin guide and a book on wildflowers and orchids. No one ever saw the young woman again. After a massive search and investigation, which garnered much publicity, no evidence of foul play was discovered as there was no body, no crime scene.

Mara has found a loaded camera that she believed was owned by her sister, and had the deteriorated film processed and prints made. She has come to the Dordogne area to consult with orchid expert Julian Wood to see if he is able to identify the locations shown in the photos. The police have already told Mara that there is not enough identifying features in the photos, but she is determined to learn the truth.

Julian feels there is no chance of finding where these photos were taken, let alone finding Bedie, but he is fascinated with the final photo – a photo of Cypripedium – Sabot de Venus in French, sometimes called Lady’s Slipper in English. Julian becomes motivated to begin a search as Mara, but for different reasons. And since this rare wild orchid does not grow in the Dordogne, or anywhere in Europe, he has his own mystery to unravel – and he decides to become involved with Mara and her investigation.This extremely rare orchid could not be growing in this area — yet there it is, clearly photographed.

Not only a good literary mystery, Deadly Slipper was a really a fun book to read. Filled with an exotic cast of characters – from the local bogeyman and his mother, who is even scarier than her son, to the bizarre Sauvignac family, (the local nobility), to an indifferent French police inspector, to Julian Wood’s fanatic orchid hunting nemesis, and the regulars down at Chez Nous, the town’s cafe/bar/gourmet restaurant. The narrative surrounding the orchids are fascinating, and then there’s the food, wine and the gorgeous countryside – the setting is totally realistic and French.

Ms. Wan is a fascinating person as well. She was born in Kunming, China, grew up in the United States, and has lived in India, England, France and Brazil. She and her husband, a tropical horticulturalist, visit the Dordogne annually to photograph and chart wild orchids.

One day in southwest France Ms. Wan found her first wild orchid, and thus orchids and murder came together in the Death in the Dordogne series.

So, I’ve decided to keep these books, and put the second one Orchid Shroud on my staggering TBR file. But first I have to finish one – at least one — of the three books I’m currently reading (see previous post).

There are still two more in the Death in the Dordogne series ~~perhaps? maybe? should I?

Creative Book Sellers

I’d love to tell you about a book I’ve finished, but regretfully, I have none to share. It’s not that I’m not reading — I am! But I’ve got myself reading several books at the same time, so my book completion rate is nil.

I did wander into my local bookshop the other day, ducking out of the rain before meeting a friend for lunch. I didn’t buy anything (see my quandary above) but I did admire this very clever display for Valentines day.

It got me thinking about how creative booksellers have to be. Not only keeping displays fresh, but also coming up with events. Every week, my local bookshop hosts a children’s reading hour, a knitting night, open poetry readings, and of course, lots of author readings – lots of work to sell a book or two or three.

Kepler’s Bookstore once had a display called Blind Date with a Book which looked something like this:

I wonder how many customers actually buy books blind, I’m not sure I would, but it is a very creative idea.

There’s funny displays based on customer questions ~~

Scary and spooky Halloween reading recommendations:

And a great idea for around the holidays, a perfect gift for a reader on your list — a series of books, a book for each day of Hanukah or a book a day advent calendar.

Perhaps I’ll start planning my bookish gift list now.

But enough distraction, back to the pile of books I’m currently reading…

They’re all so different that I can read in and out of each without confusion…depending on my mood. But then again, I’m barmy.

Our Town by Thornton Wilder

Every January I like to re-read the play Our Town.

I know, I know Our Town has a terrible reputation. Every high school has performed this play with often pathetic results. Please try to sweep those memories away and let me convince you to read, really read this play.

I believe it is some of the best writing out there – strong words you say, well stick with me here…

First published in 1938, it delivers a hauntingly real look at life….and death….and love. It takes place in Grover’s Corners a small New England town, actually based on a real town called Peterborough where Wilder often spent his summers and near where I lived in New Hampshire.

The three acts of this play are structured in a manner that encompasses the most basic features of human life: everyday living, love/marriage, and of course death. Much attention is usually paid to the third act of the play because it is here Wilder really closes in to make his point most obviously.

Yes, the third act is brilliant, and still chokes me up every time, but I like to linger in the first two acts – which are about the ordinariness of life — and it’s the ordinary that actually makes life extraordinary — just as it is. Mr. Wilder gently pushes this point, all life, any life, is special –and perhaps most of all, sharing this amazing life with others around you.

These subtle life observations give even greater rewards as one gets older, when time has passed and life has slapped you around – the words suddenly become heart achingly real and relevant.

Reading this little play always snaps me out of my post holiday blues (thus, why I re-read it in January) as I once again realize that what Mr. Wilder is urging – what we should, but seldom (or never) actually do.

I chuckled this time at this quote ~~ “We don’t have time to look at one another” ~~ if that was true in 1937, imagine how much more true it is today.

You may agree with the many critics who have charged Our Town with being overly sentimental and perhaps it is, but I don’t consider this a negative — we should be sentimental about the things we love.

Now, if I have you convinced to give it a try once again –every library has a copy and it’s very short.

Here are my favorite underlined passages:

Wherever you come near the human race there’s layers and layers of nonsense.

We all know that something is eternal. And it ain’t houses and it ain’t names, and it ain’t earth, and it ain’t even the stars… everybody knows in their bones that something is eternal, and that something has to do with human beings. All the greatest people ever lived have been telling us that for five thousand years and yet you’d be surprised how people are always losing hold of it. There’s something way down deep that’s eternal about every human being.

Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by, Grover’s Corners… Mama and Papa. Good-by to clocks ticking… and Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths…and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.

Yes, now you know. Now you know! That’s what it was to be alive. To move about in a cloud of ignorance; to go up and down trampling on the feelings of those…of those about you. To spend and waste time as though you had a million years. To be always at the mercy of one self-centered passion, or another. Now you know — that’s the happy existence you wanted to go back to. Ignorance and blindness.

Only it seems to me that once in your life before you die you ought to see a country where they don’t talk in English and don’t even want to.

Read Our Town and perhaps it will remind what a gift it is to be alive and you must, must pay attention — to everything.

NB: Our Town was recently recommended by Ann Patchett as good background for her new novel Tom Lake, which I haven’t read, but is getting great reviews. Many recommend the audio version narrated by Meryl Streep. I don’t get along very well with audio books, but that sounds like it might be worth a try.

Here we are.

Well, here we are folks, a New Year and almost midway through January (how did that happen?).

It’s been a string of rainy and dull January days. The Christmas decorations are put away, the tree is down, the house is back to everyday, the bills are coming in, and wannabe dictators threaten on the horizon.

But, hey lets cheer up and talk about books, always a good place to go when things seem grim.

I only read one (only one!) Christmas book, I picked up and put down several before settling in on a lovely novel set in an English bookshop, (of course). It’s put away with my notes to tell you about next year.

Santa gave me a lovely book…no, no, truth be told, I bought it for myself. While at favorite independent bookstore, buying a book for a friend, I stumbled across this little gem – and how could I resist?

This is a new addition to the Everyman’s Pocket Classics series. These are beautiful smallish books, bound with cloth in Germany. The dust jackets are, without exception, stunning. The books in this series are always nice to hold in the hand. (Funny how some books aren’t great to hold…)

Everyman’s Library was conceived in 1905 by London publisher Joseph Malaby Dent, whose goal was to create a 1,000-volume library of world literature that was affordable for, and that appealed to, every kind of person, from students to the working classes to the cultural elite.

All the Everyman’s editions come with this circa 1905, somewhat stilted, introduction and a sewn-in ribbon bookmark.

From the inside flap:

An enchanting book about books: a beautiful hardcover Pocket Classics anthology of stories that testify to the irresistible power of the written word.
The characters in the delightful stories collected here range all the way from the ink-stained medieval monks in Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose to the book-besotted denizens of Ali Smith’s Public Library and Other Stories. In these pages readers are invited to enter the interior lives of librarians in Lorrie Moore’s “Community Life” and Elizabeth McCracken’s “Juliet” and are ushered into a host of unusual libraries, including the infinite rooms of Jorge Luis Borges’s “The Library of Babel” and a secret library in Helen Oyeyemi’s “Books and Roses.”

I’ve been happily skipping around reading a story here, a snippet there. So far, a wonderful collection of stories for book lovers, it even includes excerpts from 84 Charing Cross Road.

So, I’m closing the drapes, making a cup of tea I got for Christmas, and enjoying my new book.

So goodbye old year. Hello new year – bring it on!

New Year Thoughts – sort of

I had a hiccup in my holiday reading, two books I did not finish, two more proved good but just for me right now, but I have just now settled on one that is soothing, warm, and just right….more on that later, in the New Year.

I have mixed feelings about the New Year and so, I will enter it warily.

Always my same goals raise their persistent heads. Get more exercise, eat better, work on the garden, less computer time, clean out my clutter, be more creative, and, of course, read more.

But then I came across this on Facebook and I really liked it. I will still attempt my goals above, but this is worth reading thorough,

~ This year, dear friends, may we all lose weight!

The weight of expectations. The weight of self-criticism. The weight of disconnect that fills us with a deeper hunger. The weight of not always loving. The weight of a worn and weary world. Of not always accepting, seeing and inhabiting this precious and sacred body, that we’re in.

~ This year, dear friends, may we all exercise!

…our holy will! Our sacred sense of purpose. Our vision and hard-earned wisdom. Our discernment and our shining hearts. In ways that enrich connections, with our bodies, our souls and those we love. And even to the world.

~ This year, ah yes… may we all start the work of quitting…

…that collective Kool-Aid. The negative self-talk. The small-a**ed living. That cacophony of cockatoo-voices that drown out our souls. And old habits: Those used to stop us hearing our pain, our disappointments, and all things much better loved, seen and accepted right down to the very bottom ~ and to find true freedom, through a connection with our deepest souls.

~ This fine new year, (here’s the best…) May we all be rich!

Yes, utterly and completely rich. Wildly and unapologetically. Rich in love. Life. Connection with one another and all that really matters. Filled to the brim and bubbling over; more again and spilling over that. Full of laughter, acceptance, joy, and less of worry. Less of sorrow ~

Rich in renewed experience, of a whole new year!

by Rachel Alana (R.A Falconer) art | John Collier

To my dear Book Barmy family,

Happy New Year

Time for Home

I read this quote on a booksellers website and it just resonated with me

“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.”

quote from Christmas at Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons.

Isn’t that what the holidays are about? Being home – whatever home is for you – with loved ones, good friends, good food, and of course good books.

Next week is largely uninterrupted reading time, so in the meantime, I will share some of my favorite images for the holiday season.

I love this painting by Andrew Wyeth

Someone sent me this image in an e-card and it makes me smile.

Seeing the Christmas lights downtown.

Bookshops anytime, but especially during Christmas.

My little reading nook decorated for the holiday.

Some of my collection of Christmas books.

But in the end, being home is my favorite part of the holidays.

Wherever you are this season, wishing you warmth, peace, love and good books to read.

An English Murder by Cyril Hare

First published in 1951, this Christmas mystery takes place in the favorite setting of British murder mysteries — the large country home.

Lord Warbeck summons his remaining family to the ancestral home for a holiday gathering. This country home is rather run-down with a greatly reduced staff — the result of high postwar British income taxes. It’s a very mixed group of people who arrive and there are creepy undercurrents from the very first pages. This house party is snowbound on Christmas Eve, and of course a murder ensues.

Thank goodness an eccentric little Sargent from Scotland Yard is present, but the historian saves the day, with the help of William Pitt. If all that sounds a lot like Agatha Christie — well, that’s because it is. The mystery plot turns on — well, I don’t want to give it away, suffice it to say our author, Mr. Hare, was a British barrister.

This a classic English murder mystery in all the right ways — the snowbound setting, odd characters with funny names, the sly British sense of humor, and of course, the Christmas-y feel.

At only 202 pages, it is the perfect quick holiday read with a cup of cocoa after a busy day of your own holiday preparations.

Treat yourself to that beautiful copy of An English Murder shown above – don’t-cha love that cover?

I re-read my old battered copy found used at the now defunct Mystery Bookshop in San Francisco.

It doesn’t look very Christmas-y, but it’s a keepsake.

It’s raining here, the tree is up and decorated, most gifts are wrapped, and I ~~may~~ shall take a break, and read another Christmas book.

Stay warm and safe people. Cheers!