Category: Fiction

Sometimes an un-read book follows you — nay, stalks you. This was the case with The Last Garden In England. The publisher kindly sent me a digital advanced reading copy back in 2020 and I dipped into a few pages and said to myself, ‘why, yes, this is a book I will enjoy”... but put it aside. Then a gardening friend raved about the same book (now published) and said she would give me her copy, I thanked her but said I had already had copy from the publisher. I sat down and read the first chapter, but got busy with the holidays, and abandoned it once again. Then the beautiful physical copy –(just gaze upon that cover) — arrived as a Christmas gift from my sister with a note saying — “this looks like a perfect book for you”.

“Uncle, uncle – I give up”, I said to this book that had been nipping at my heels and opened it with the vow to read it straight through. Which I finally did

The Last Garden in England is historical fiction centering around a garden at the fictional Highbury House estate.

It’s 1907 when Venetia Smith is commissioned to design the estate’s garden. Then during the war in 1944, Highbury House is converted to a convalescent hospital. And, in the present day, Emma Lovett is hired to breath new life into the now long-neglected gardens.

We follow five different women who are connected by the lure and love of this garden garden.

I can hear you now, five women set in set in three different time periods, that sounds complicated. Trust me — it’s not, Ms. Kelly does a fine job in keeping all the characters and time lines not only clear, but compelling.

The gardens come to life and are resurrected through these women and we see how these gardens influenced and connected their lives in very different yet similar ways. The three different time periods each had their own distinctive restrictions and freedoms for each of the women.

I’ll tell you a bit more about the characters and the time periods just to get you hooked.

In 1907, Venetia Smith has made a name for herself as a garden designer to the affluent showing off their wealth with sumptuous country houses. When she is hired to design the gardens of Highbury House, she is determined to make them a triumph, but the gardens, and the people she meets do more – they change her life forever.

During WWII, in 1944, land girl Beth Pedley arrives to work on a farm on the outskirts of the village and she hopes this is a place she can settle. Stella Adderton, on the other hand, is desperate to leave her position as the estate cook to pursue other dreams. And perhaps my favorite character is the widow Diana Symonds, the mistress of the Highbury House who is anxiously trying to cling to her pre-war life even though her home has been transformed into a convalescent hospital for wounded soldiers. But as war threatens the treasured gardens, these three very different women are drawn together by circumstances and secrets.

And in the present day, Emma Lovett, is a landscape designer who specializes in bringing long-neglected gardens back to life. Emma has just been given the opportunity to restore the gardens of the famed Highbury House estate, designed back in 1907 by her hero Venetia Smith. But as Emma dives deeper into the gardens’ past, she begins to uncover long hidden secrets.

Yes, The Last Garden in England is centered on a garden, but this not just any garden. This is an remarkable garden with separate garden rooms — there’s a tea garden, a children’s garden, then a bride’s garden, and my favorite the winter garden. Ms. Kelly gives highly accurate descriptions of the garden itself and the plants within. There are lots of roses, some supposedly bred just for the garden. (I took note to see if any of them actually exist.)

If you go to the authors website HERE, you can see videos and read about the gardens that influenced the writing of the book. Venetia is based on the famous garden designer Gertrude Jekyll. Ms. Kelly even created a map of her imagined Highbury Estate garden.

I admit The Last Garden in England was indeed the perfect book for me. A grand English house, an engaging story, characters I cared about and all tied together with a believable connection through the decades. Ms. Kelly’s rich descriptions of the garden really enriched the story which made this a very appealing read.

I only regret it took me so long to read it, but now just having finished it I realize this was the perfect time with spring arriving and my garden crying for attention.

If you’re like me, and want to be delightfully transported to a country estate garden, I highly recommend this wonderful novel.

Be sure to read the Author’s Note at the end to learn about the people, historical facts and existing gardens that inspired author Julia Kelly.

A digital Advanced Readers Copy was provided by Gallery Books via Netgalley

Here’s something other book bloggers have started — describe your ideal reading experience — past, future, real, or imagined.

Mine was real and a long time ago — a friend loaned me her beach house, just north of the city, for a long weekend. (Delightfully, I went alone, as Husband was away on a business trip). My friend was an avid reader so I knew I didn’t need to bring any books, her shelves were abundant — full of beachy, vacation type reads.

I pulled out Peyton Place, by Grace Metalious which I had never read and decided it was the perfect trashy read. Turns out not that trashy after all, actually a well-written exposé on the lives, secrets and lies in a small New England town.

It opens with this vividly painted first line ~~ “Indian summer is like a woman. Ripe, hotly passionate, but fickle, she comes and goes as she pleases so that one is never sure whether she will come at all, nor for how long she will stay.”

I finished Peyton Place over that long weekend and the other evening recalled this wonderful reading experience when I watched the film, which was surprising riveting and wonderfully over-dramatic, in that typical 1950’s campy style.

Not only did the book sell millions of copies when it was first published in 1956, it spawned not one, but two films, and a long-lived television soap opera. Ms. Metalious participated in the early stages of the first film but then when several key plot points were omitted she abandoned the project and openly detested the film — which had nine academy award nominations.

There’s as much drama surrounding the publishing of the book as the book itself — which is covered in the sequel Return to Peyton Place – both in book and film forms. Adding to this drama is that the story behind Peyton Place is based on the true story of 20-year-old Barbara Roberts who, in 1947, shot and killed her father and buried his body in the sheep pen. It all took place in Gilmanton, New Hampshire which is near where I lived back East. The film “Peyton Place” had its premiere in Camden, where many scenes had been shot and is one of Husband and my favorite towns in Maine.

So back to the subject. My ideal reading experience was this one — devouring my friends beat-up paperback copy of Peyton Place – sun hat shading me, feet propped up on the deck railing, and ice tea at hand – over a long weekend at the beach.

sigh…

Crown Books sent me this book ages ago and I only just remembered it when I just received Ms. Ryan’s most recent book. I decided I ought to read the first book first. I just finished it the other night and so, with apologies for the late review, here are my thoughts on The Chilbury Ladies Choir.

The story takes place in Britain in 1940. Most of the men in the village of Chilbury have left or are leaving to fight in WWII. The Vicar decides to shut down the village choir due to the lack of male voices, but the women of Chilbury village decide to start their own choir — The Chilbury Ladies Choir.

These choir members make up an memorable cast of characters : a widow devastated when her only son goes to fight; the older daughter of a local scion drawn to a mysterious artist; her younger sister pining over an impossible crush; a Jewish refugee from Czechoslovakia hiding a family secret; and a conniving midwife plotting to outrun her seedy past. The choir soon becomes significant, not only for its members, but also for the village — as they practice to enter the regional choir competition.

This story is told in letters and journal entries and through very different points of view we see the hardship, loss and resilience of these women of the Chilbury Choir all dealing with war on the home front. There are some men left in the village, both young and old, who provide the ladies (and this reader) with gossip and entertainment.

This is an engaging book and I found myself invested in the various women and their plights — not to mention the choir competition. I stumbled a bit with some of the letter and diary entries, as they didn’t always ring true – as actual diaries or letters. The descriptive detail felt false in such a form i.e., ‘his fingers toying with his mustache as if it were a battlefield’.

The Chilbury Ladies Choir is unusual and rewarding novel of the lives of a small-town group of women facing the trials of WWI Britain.

Now I can start Ms. Ryan’s newest WWI novel.

Thanks to my dear and patient 20-something friends – you can now follow me on Instagram. Just scroll down and click on the Instagram link in the lower right.

@bookbarmy #chilburyladieschoir #jennifer_ryan_author

Turns out all those hashtags you see everywhere actually mean something.

A digital review copy was kindly provided by Crown Books #crownbooks via NetGalley.

Us by David Nicholls was a surprise favorite read a few years ago. You can read my full review HERE.

Douglas and Connie, a British couple have planned a vacation through Europe, but it’s nearly called off when Connie wakes up and says “I think I want to leave you.” 

Douglas forges ahead and cajoles his wife to enjoy one last hurrah with their teenage son, who is soon off to college.   And thus begins a bittersweet and awkward journey through Europe. 

These are real and familiar characters; especially the befuddled Douglas, certain he can fix something unfixable if only he applied enough logic, pragmatism, and unfailing optimism. Everything that can go wrong on a trip – does. I found Us, the novel, both funny and touching.

This Sunday, PBS Masterpiece is starting a series based on the novel and the preview looks promising. I have it marked to watch. The scenery alone will be worth it for me, as I’m starved for Europe. Maybe you’ll want to watch as well. Masterpiece Theater, Sunday night 9PM (USA).

I was delighted by A Man Called Ove, both the book and the film. Since then, I’ve tried some of Mr. Backman’s other books but none were nearly as good. So I opened Anxious People with a bit of dread — please be good, please be good I muttered to myself. (Don’t you talk to your books? I do, as few else listen.)

Now, you should know it has taken me forever to write up my thoughts of this widely popular and best-selling novel.

You see, I had trouble with Anxious People, yet enjoyed much of it. The plot is crazy, but the characters are wonderfully flawed and complex. It leaps all over the place in time, and yet comes together in the end — so I have no clear opinion on this book. I’ll do my best to give you an overview and let you decide whether to try this wacky tale.

From the book’s publicity:

Looking at real estate isn’t usually a life-or-death situation, but an apartment open house becomes just that when a failed bank robber bursts in and takes a group of strangers hostage. The captives include a recently retired couple who relentlessly hunt down fixer-uppers to avoid the painful truth that they can’t fix their own marriage. There’s a wealthy bank director who has been too busy to care about anyone else and a young couple who are about to have their first child but can’t seem to agree on anything, from where they want to live to how they met in the first place. Add to the mix an eighty-seven-year-old woman who has lived long enough not to be afraid of someone waving a gun in her face, a flustered but still-ready-to-make-a-deal real estate agent, and a mystery man who has locked himself in the apartment’s only bathroom, and you’ve got the worst group of hostages in the world.

The police aren’t having a good day either. Father and son officers, Jim the old hand and Jack preferring modern methods, make up most of the small police force in their small town. They’re not used to bank robbers or handling hostage situations.

_____________________________________________

Anxious People immediately plunges the reader into this preposterous event told from multiple points of view. This makes for a complex start, and at first, everyone and everything was disjointed. There are many characters — each with their own stories.

During the first 100 pages, I wondered where this story was going — and if I would continue reading — but soon it started to come together. The somewhat stereotypical characters soon emerge as much more. These characters, although wonderfully developed, are for the most part idiots — but amusing idiots.

And here’s what Mr. Backman says about idiots — this definition applies to pretty much all of us —

“This story is about a lot of things, but mostly about idiots. So it needs saying from the outset that it’s always very easy to declare that other people are idiots, but only if you forget how idiotically difficult being human is.”

Anxious People jumps around in the timeline and swerves off on a lot of tangents, but it all makes sense in the end and all those little tangents soon become important. It was at times funny, at times sad, but for me, the best part was how it handled difficult topics in a way that was deservedly serious and yet lighthearted.

I found it was worth working through some of the convolution just for the some of the wisdom alone. I’ll give you a few samples of Mr. Backman’s insights:

“Because the terrible thing about becoming an adult is being forced to realize that absolutely nobody cares about us, we have to deal with everything ourselves now, find out how the whole world works. Work and pay bills, use dental floss and get to meetings on time, stand in line and fill out forms, come to grips with cables and put furniture together, change tires on the car and charge the phone and switch the coffee machine off and not forget to sign the kids up for swimming lessons. We open our eyes in the morning and life is just waiting to tip a fresh avalanche of “Don’t Forget!”s and “Remember!”s over us. We don’t have time to think or breathe, we just wake up and start digging through the heap, because there will be another one dumped on us tomorrow. We look around occasionally, at our place of work or at parents’ meetings or out in the street, and realize with horror that everyone else seems to know exactly what they’re doing. We’re the only ones who have to pretend. Everyone else can afford stuff and has a handle on other stuff and enough energy to deal with even more stuff. And everyone else’s children can swim.”

And then there is this one which spoke to me:

“The truth, of course, is that if people really were as happy as they look on the Internet, they wouldn’t spend so much damn time on the Internet, because no one who’s having a really good day spends half of it taking pictures of themselves. Anyone can nurture a myth about their life if they have enough manure, so if the grass looks greener on the other side of the fence, that’s probably because it’s full of shit. Not that that really makes much difference, because now we’ve learned that every day needs to be special. Every day.”

And here the author speaks to anxiety – this quote deserves reading more than once.

“One of the most human things about anxiety is that we try to cure chaos with chaos. Someone who has got themselves into a catastrophic situation rarely retreats from it, we’re far more inclined to carry on even faster. We’ve created lives where we can watch other people crash into the wall but still hope that somehow we’re going to pass straight through it. The closer we get, the more confidently we believe that some unlikely solution is miraculously going to save us, while everyone watching us is just waiting for the crash.”

So perhaps this is a story about a hostage situation, filled with anxious people. Or perhaps this is a tale of idiots stuck in an apartment. Or maybe it’s about a bungled police investigation. And then there’s the bridge…

But I have come to the long awaited conclusion that Anxious People is all about human relationships, of which Mr. Backman is a master. I laughed, I sighed, and I often savored the writing – re-reading many passages. There is wisdom sprinkled throughout the narrative.

Anxious People is not an easy read – it takes some letting yourself just “go with the flow” of this screwball novel and its anxious, idiotic — yet fascinating characters.

I’ll leave you with one last conversation:

So Zara asked, without any sarcasm, “Have you learned any theories about why people behave like that, then?”

“Hundreds,” The psychologist smiled.

“Which one do you believe?”

“I believe the one that says that if you do it for long enough, it can become impossible to tell the difference between flying and falling.”

Trigger warning: This novel deals with suicide and attempted suicide.

A digital review copy was kindly provided by Atria Books via NetGalley

And now the ‘miss’ ~~

When we first entered this strange phase of our lives, I roamed my bookshelves – picking out books and planning my reading list for the duration. A Gentlemen in Moscow seemed like the perfect book — given we were all entering what appeared to be our own sort of house arrest.

In 1922, Count Alexander Rostov aged 33, is brought before a Bolshevik tribunal in Moscow. He is charged with being an unapologetic aristocrat — but because of his charm, and a carefully recited poem — instead of death, he is condemned to lifetime house arrest in his current place of residence: the Metropol Hotel. Removed from his suite and banished to a tiny room in the attic, the Count finds his material circumstances have been much reduced, but he faces his change in fortune philosophically.

The novel starts in a somewhat breezy style as we are introduced to the varied characters that move in and out of Rostov’s life as he is sequestered in the grand hotel. There’s a famous model, an overly bright little girl, and an officious general manager. I chuckled along as the Count’s days are spent anticipating his meals in the restaurant, laboriously making his way through The Essays of Montaigne, or anticipating his weekly haircut appointment.

It was initially charming to read about the Count’s interest in a bouillabaisse recipe, his fascination with wine, and his philosophical observations on the parade of people populating the hotel. But then, about two-thirds of the way through A Gentleman in Moscow, I realized that is all this book is about.

Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Towles is an excellent writer, there are some lovely passages which made me sigh with pleasure and re-read:

For what matters in life is not whether we receive a round of applause; what matters is whether we have the courage to venture forth despite the uncertainty of acclaim.

On those we love:
Every year that passed, it seemed a little more of her had slipped away; and I began to fear that one day I would come to forget her altogether. But the truth is: No matter how much time passes, those we have loved never slip away from us entirely.

Mr. Towles focuses almost entirely on the charming life of the Count locked in his grand Moscow hotel. I, however, kept wondering about what was unfolding outside the hotel’s doors. What about the tumultuous decades in Russian history? The plight of millions of Russians starving and being put to death by the Stalinist regime, not to mention two World Wars. That is the author’s choice, and I respect that, but this reader would have liked more historical reference. But that would have perhaps required a plot — and A Gentleman in Moscow is not a plot driven book – this is a lumbering (462 pages) character study about a character that I just didn’t find that interesting.

I put the book down, feeling like I, too, was imprisoned in the Hotel Metropol. Its premise held great promise, but it didn’t hold my attention. In a word, I got bored. My hair literally went gray waiting for something to happen (no recent hair appointments, not withstanding) ~~ reader, I gave up.

Annalisa Quinn’s review on NPR sums it up best:

“A Gentleman in Moscow is like a quipping, suavely charming dinner companion that you are also a little relieved to escape at the end of the meal.”

Other readers, whom I respect, have told me the novel is worth it for the ending alone – so I may start it up again – or (ssshhhh) jump to the last few chapters. Who knows? If I change my mind about A Gentleman in Moscow, I’ll be sure to let you know.

Until then, I’m going to find something to read where something actually happens.

Today is my younger sister’s birthday. I bought her this book as a joke gift, never intending to read it.

But, then I read good reviews and learned that it was up for both the Booker and the Woman’s Prize. So, with the deadline of my sister’s birthday approaching, I opened it up the other week and dove in.

Korede’s sister Ayoola has the inconvenient habit of killing her boyfriends, the latest named Femi:

“Femi makes three, you know. Three and they label you a serial killer.”

My Sister the Serial Killer is written by a Nigerian novelist, and is set in Lagos, Nigeria. Korede’s younger sister Ayoola is many things: beautiful, self-involved, vain, everyone’s darling, and yes, a serial killer. Korede works as a nurse and lives at home with her mother and Ayoola. She is fastidious in her job, but doesn’t really have any friends due to keeping her sister’s secrets and cleaning up her messes, literally.

We begin in the middle of the action: Ayoola calls Korede in the middle of the night for help — she has stabbed her newest boyfriend. Out of necessity, Korede has become an expert at crime scene cleaning and evidence concealment. (Bleach is the best way to remove blood if you’re wondering or know your own serial killer.) Her life has become move the body, dispose of the body, clean up after the body, and hardest of all — stop her sister from carrying on with her social media posting as if nothing happened – and advising Ayoola to at least act sad about her latest ‘missing’ boyfriend.

But, everything changes when Ayoola sets her sites on a doctor Korede’s secretly in love with. Forced to sit back and watch in utter fear as Ayoola successfully flirts with him, Korede is faced with an inner battle to save the man she loves or to protect her sister.

Driven by her passion, and the fear she and her sister might get caught ~~ because, oops, Korede confessed everything to a patient who was in a coma but is now awake—Korede makes choices she never even imagined were possible.

The sisters’ story goes back and forth from their troubled childhood, to the present, to the near past, and onward. The story becomes deeper and more nuanced than one would first assume — as more history is revealed.

Nigerian culture is sprinkled throughout. There’s the heat, the food, and the traffic. The police are portrayed as corrupt and easily bribed. Even though their dead father was cruel and abusive, the mother and daughters are expected to host the annual lavish party to remember him.

My Sister, The Serial Killer isn’t a crime novel as such – there’s no mystery and no detection. It’s really the story of sisters and their relationship — the loyalty and the rivalry. It’s often darkly funny, but also tense, and unexpectedly poignant. There’s a scene where Ayoola is happily lapping ice cream while her (murdered) boyfriend’s sister is sobbing in grief — which stopped me cold.

This is a short little novel which you could read in one sitting, but you’ll want to linger, as it’s a very artfully written book. And, as an added bonus, you’ll learn how to clean a crime scene – just in case a family member goes rogue.

Happy Birthday to my wonderful sister, who, as far as I know, is not a serial killer.