 |
| 4 out of 5 stars |
Ever since his
girlfriend ended their relationship, Thomas Rosanoff’s life has been on a
downward spiral. A gifted med student, he has spent his entire
adulthood struggling to escape the legacy of his father, an esteemed
psychiatrist who used him as a test subject when he was a boy. Thomas
lived his entire young life as the “Boy in the Box,” watched by
researchers behind two-way glass.
But now the tables have turned.
Thomas is the researcher, and his subjects are three homeless men, all
of whom claim to be messiahs—but no three people can be the one and only
saviour of the world. Thomas is determined to “cure” the three men of
their delusions, and in so doing save his career—and maybe even his love
life. But when Thomas’s father intervenes in the experiment, events
spin out of control, and Thomas must confront the voices he hears in the
labyrinth of his own mind.
Will Ferguson once again
creates a very readable novel with so many ideas going on in it that it
left my brain whirling! And yet, it all worked together and wasn’t
confusing or overwhelming. All the ideas that he played with fit
together nicely—what is mind? Is religion still relevant? Is science
where its at? He even threw in that old “nature vs. nurture” idea.
Thomas
Rosanoff is our main character—raised by his father as an experiment
after the death of his mother. (There are echoes of the urban legend
about B.F. Skinner’s daughter). Thomas is maybe-brilliant, but
definitely one of the most self-centred characters I have ever met, but I
felt that he meant well. He did want to help people, if only for his
own ends.
The coming together of the three mental patients, all
of whom believe themselves to be Jesus Christ, could have been very
sacrilegious, but despite Thomas’ very materialist views of the world,
the mind and the soul, it remains human and even funny. There was a
point, when Thomas’ domineering father became involved, when I almost
quit reading—I found it painful to see him being overwhelmed yet again
by the great man. I’m glad I pushed on and finished the novel, however,
as it left me with a glow of good feelings.
Read for my 2018 PopSugar Challenge, a book about mental health.
 |
| 3 out of 5 stars |
A charming,
practical, and unsentimental approach to putting a home in order while
reflecting on the tiny joys that make up a long life.
In
Sweden there is a kind of decluttering called döstädning, dö meaning
“death” and städning meaning “cleaning.” This surprising and
invigorating process of clearing out unnecessary belongings can be
undertaken at any age or life stage but should be done sooner than
later, before others have to do it for you. In The Gentle Art of Swedish
Death Cleaning, artist Margareta Magnusson, with Scandinavian humor and
wisdom, instructs readers to embrace minimalism. Her radical and joyous
method for putting things in order helps families broach sensitive
conversations, and makes the process uplifting rather than overwhelming.
I’ve been practicing
döstädning (death cleaning) for years without knowing it. My two sisters
and I were responsible for cleaning out our parents’ home 20 years ago
and we were all inspired by that experience to cut down (or at least try
to cut down) on our own clutter load. We’ve had varying degrees of
success.
Spring may arrive someday soon here in Western Canada
and I needed some inspiration to get me back in the swing of things,
purging the unnecessary accumulations of the past year, sorting older
deposits, and clearing the decks for spring cleaning.
The author
recommends a slow but steady culling process to deal with the pile-ups
of possessions that afflict many of us in the first world. I know that I
look forward to each spring, when I can count on a number of book sales
and garage sales to be soliciting for donations. Each year, I
contribute things that I am willing to part with and it gets easier
every year.
I am pretty ruthless now with clothing—anything that
needs ironing goes. So does anything uncomfortable to wear. There are
very few ‘dry clean only’ items remaining in my closet. But a closet can
be easily sorted in an afternoon—what I struggle with are things like
photographs, paper files, and items which hold sentimental attachment
for me. As tax time approaches, I’m going to be forced to deal with at
least a few papers. Then I’m planning a photo sorting party to deal with
all the photographs from my parents’ home, inviting a sister and a
cousin to come for a day and help me get to the bottom of the box.
Combining the necessary work with a good visit seems like an excellent
idea.
The author advocates a very rational approach to these
tasks—visualizing yourself taking the weight of these decisions off
others and dealing with your own possessions. I find I’m only able to
maintain this mindset in short bursts, so her slow-but-steady method
works well for me. If you are a more emotional or sentimental sort, this
book may not be the most motivating for you, but if you have a logical,
pragmatic approach to life it should be a useful book.
 |
| 3.5 stars out of 5 |
The snow covered
all the tracks, as the killer knew it would. But it couldn't hide the
victim, the man who now hung naked from a lonely tree on a frozen plain.
Malin
Fors is first on the scene. A thirty-one-year-old single mother, Malin
is the most talented and ambitious detective on the Linkoping police
force, but also the most unpredictable. She must lead the investigation
while keeping her fractured life on the rails.
No one knows the
identity of the dead man. Or perhaps no one ever wanted to know. When
all the voices of the investigation have fallen silent, Malin can rely
only on herself and her own instincts. And as she follows in the frigid
wake of the killer, Malin begins to discover just how far the people in
this small town are willing to go to keep their secrets buried.
Probably actually a 3.5 star
book for me. It’s getting much harder to fool me, now that I’ve read a
fair number of Nordic mysteries and I really treasure the books that do
manage to pull the wool over my eyes. Midwinter Sacrifice managed to keep me guessing until the last chapters, when it just kind of stuttered to the end.
I
liked Malin Fors, the female detective main character. I could
appreciate her ambition and determination to solve a case. There was a
little too much emphasis on her “feminine intuition” for me, since I
think both men & women use their intuition and that police officers
especially rely on it, no matter which gender they are.
I also
like Malin’s daughter, Tove. Unlike so many detectives in mystery
fiction, Malin lives with her daughter and tries to be a decent mother.
Malin’s struggles to decide what is reasonable as a parent makes her
very real to me.
Although I probably won’t hurry on to the next
book, I can certainly imagine that I will get to it eventually to see
what the Swedish detective investigates next.
 |
| 3 out of 5 stars |
A Gen-X
librarian's snarky, laugh-out-loud funny, deeply moving collection of
love letters and break-up notes to the books in her life.
Librarians
spend their lives weeding--not weeds but books! Books that have reached
the end of their shelf life, both literally and figuratively. They
remove the books that patrons no longer check out. And they put back the
books they treasure. Annie Spence, who has a decade of experience as a
Midwestern librarian, does this not only at her Michigan library but
also at home, for her neighbors, at cocktail parties—everywhere. In Dear
Fahrenheit 451, she addresses those books directly. We read her love
letters to The Goldfinch and Matilda, as well as her snarky break-ups
with Fifty Shades of Grey and Dear John. Her notes to The Virgin
Suicides and The Time Traveler’s Wife feel like classics, sure to strike
a powerful chord with readers. Through the lens of the books in her
life, Annie comments on everything from women’s psychology to gay
culture to health to poverty to childhood aspirations.
I read this book to fill a
Book Riot Reader Harder challenge (a book of essays). I can’t help but
feel that I *should* have liked this book much more than I did. I
suspect it’s not the author, it’s me. I’m a bit too old to appreciate
the author's sense of humour fully, being on the cusp between the Baby
Boomers and Gen-X. Still, her essays are letters written to books found
while weeding the library and that should be right up my alley.
I
did like the book. Three stars is not a bad rating in my opinion. I
think the author would be fun to have a drink with and discuss all the
weird things that one finds in the library stacks. I’m always amazed, as
a library cataloguer, what our librarians choose to add to the
collection and what I find while I’m looking for something else.
I was heartened that I had read or at least heard of many of the books mentioned (and some still lurk in my TBR pile).
 |
| 3 out of 5 stars |
Far
above the merciless Underdark, Drizzt Do'Urden fights to survive the
elements of Toril's harsh surface. The drow begins a sojourn through a
world entirely unlike his own--even as he evades the dark elves of his
past.
Third volume of back-story
for Drizzt Do’Urden, drow fighter extraordinaire. This is the volume
that connects to the Icewind Dale novels which Salvatore wrote before
the Dark Elf Trilogy.
Our hero makes the shift from living as an
exile in the Underdark to an existence in the unfamiliar world above
ground. While he wasn’t accepted in his birth society because of his
sense of morality, he is now judged according to his racial background
by those who he meets along the way. Can he find people who will
acknowledge that he is not an evil drow? Will he finally find someone to
call friend and assuage his life-long loneliness?
Once again,
the plot is driven by fight sequences, something which Salvatore seems
to prefer writing. There’s a lot of dark brooding, but not much real
self-reflection by the characters. Perfect for the brooding teen, not so
great for the non-brooding older woman. Still, the books are fun to
read and short enough to be ideal for a quiet evening at the end of a
work-week.
Book 276 of my Science Fiction & Fantasy reading project.
 |
| 3 out of 5 stars |
My Brief History
recounts Stephen Hawking’s improbable journey, from his postwar London
boyhood to his years of international acclaim and celebrity. Lavishly
illustrated with rarely seen photographs, this concise, witty, and
candid account introduces readers to a Hawking rarely glimpsed in
previous books: the inquisitive schoolboy whose classmates nicknamed him
Einstein; the jokester who once placed a bet with a colleague over the
existence of a particular black hole; and the young husband and father
struggling to gain a foothold in the world of physics and cosmology.
Writing
with characteristic humility and humor, Hawking opens up about the
challenges that confronted him following his diagnosis of ALS at age
twenty-one. Tracing his development as a thinker, he explains how the
prospect of an early death urged him onward through numerous
intellectual breakthroughs, and talks about the genesis of his
masterpiece A Brief History of Time—one of the iconic books of the
twentieth century.
With the passing of the
great cosmologist last week, it seemed fitting to read his autobiography
as a way of appreciating the man a bit more. It’s a very compact
account of Hawking’s life, hitting the high spots without going into
great detail. One of the more charming aspects for me was the inclusion
of a fair number of personal photographs, many supplied by Hawking
himself and his sister.
Numerous tributes to Hawking last week
referred to his sense of humour. Unfortunately, that didn’t really come
through to me in this volume. I can also appreciate that he wanted to be
known for more than his ALS, but I thought that a little more detail
about the disease would have been appropriate. It seemed to me that his
family, especially his children, got extremely little page-time. I
didn’t require a tell-all or anything too detailed, but knowing how the
children turned out and what they chose to do with their lives would
have been interesting. I also wonder if they worry that they may have a
predisposition to getting ALS themselves.
To be fair, each person
gets to be the star of their own autobiography. Hawking concentrates on
what he obviously deemed the most important part of his life—his
research. Many of the details that I’m interested in, he probably
decided were not his to tell.
 |
| 4 out of 5 stars |
In 2015, Noah
Strycker set himself a lofty goal: to become the first person to see
half the world’s birds in one year. For 365 days, with a backpack,
binoculars, and a series of one-way tickets, he traveled across
forty-one countries and all seven continents, eventually spotting 6,042
species—by far the biggest birding year on record.
This is no
travelogue or glorified checklist. Noah ventures deep into a world of
blood-sucking leeches, chronic sleep deprivation, airline snafus,
breakdowns, mudslides, floods, war zones, ecologic devastation,
conservation triumphs, common and iconic species, and scores of
passionate bird lovers around the globe. By pursuing the freest
creatures on the planet, Noah gains a unique perspective on the world
they share with us—and offers a hopeful message that even as many birds
face an uncertain future, more people than ever are working to protect
them.
I enjoyed this memoir much more than I anticipated. Late last year, I read this author’s Among Penguins: A Bird Man in Antarctica,
which I enjoyed because I am a penguin fanatic. I have done a fair bit
of travel in the pursuit of birds, so I picked up this volume with both
hope and reservations.
I needn’t have worried. Strycker is a much
better writer than many of the folks who pen birding memoirs and I
enjoyed seeing places, people and birds that I know through his eyes. I
think that was part of the enjoyment for me—getting to revisit some
places, remember some birds and say, “Oh, I met that person!”
For
those of you who aren’t obsessed with birds, a big year is a year
devoted to seeing as many birds as possible in a certain area. There’s a
certain competitiveness inherent in the practice which you can read
about in The Big Year: A Tale of Man, Nature, and Fowl Obsession
(or try the movie of the same name, which I enjoyed). As I read TBY, I
found myself snorting occasionally as I identified with many of the
behaviours described. Strycker takes the Big Year concept a step further
as he decides to take his Year global and try to see half of the bird
species on Earth (5000 of an approximate 10,000). While having no desire
to participate in such an activity myself, it was intriguing to see how
Strycker proceeded with the endeavour.
What I appreciated the
most about this account wasn’t the list of birds. Obviously birds figure
prominently in the account, but it was the connections with people, the
difficulties faced during travel, and the time spent putting things
into perspective—those made the tale worthwhile in my opinion. There was
self-reflection here, plus no over-the-top environmental preachiness.
I’m
unsure how interesting non-birders would find such a book—if any of my
non-birding friends choose to read it, perhaps you could let me know?
 |
| 3 out of 5 stars |
Beautiful,
brilliant, and dangerous, Morn Hyland is an ex-police officer for the
United Mining Companies--and the target of two ruthless, powerful
men. One is the charismatic ore-pirate Nick Succorso, who sees Morn as
booty wrested from his vicious rival, Angus Thermopyle. thermopyle once
made the mistake of underestimating Morn and now he's about to pay the
ultimate price. Both men think they can possess her, but Morn is no
one's trophy--and no one's pawn.
Meanwhile, withing the borders
of Forbidden Space, wait the Amnioin, an alien race capable of horrific
atrocities. The Amnion want something unspeakable from humanity--and
they will go to unthinkable lengths to get it.
Although this is the first
series by Donaldson that I can stand to read, I still can’t say that I
love it. I’m not sure that I even like it. There really isn’t one
character that I can actually identify with—there are one or two that
I’m interested in and want to know what happens to them, but I can’t say
that I like them. Mind you, that’s not necessary for a novel but it
does make it easier reading.
The aliens in this universe seem to
take a cue from Octavia Butler’s Oankali in her Xenogenesis series.
Donaldson’s Amnioin also seem to be rather echinoderm-like and are
interested in acquiring humans for genetic purposes. Selling someone to
the Amnioin is seen as the ultimate evil in human trafficking. But when
there’s money to be made, you know that some human is going to try to
make deals with them—and it’s rather like trying to make deals with the
Fae. You need to watch your wording and make sure you know all of the
ramifications before you sign on the dotted line.
If you’ve got
any issues with rape scenes, you won’t have made it past the first book.
That said, don’t expect that to stop in this book. Morn actually has to
go to sick-bay at one point, to get repaired after particularly rough
treatment by Nick Succorso. Donaldson doesn’t go into graphic detail,
thankfully, but there are more than enough hints to be horrifying.
The
cynicism evident in the book is a bit depressing too—everyone seems to
be on the take somehow, even the police force that Morn used to belong
to. She followed her parents into that occupation and had taken pride in
their upstanding reputation—this is yet another thing that gets taken
away from her, along with her personal agency.
Book 275 in my Science Fiction and Fantasy reading project.
 |
| 4 out of 5 stars |
Do fishes think?
Do they really have three-second memories? And can they recognize the
humans who peer back at them from above the surface of the water? In
What a Fish Knows, the myth-busting ethologist Jonathan Balcombe
addresses these questions and more, taking us under the sea, through
streams and estuaries, and to the other side of the aquarium glass to
reveal the surprising capabilities of fishes. Although there are more
than thirty thousand species of fish—more than all mammals, birds,
reptiles, and amphibians combined—we rarely consider how individual
fishes think, feel, and behave. Balcombe upends our assumptions about
fishes, portraying them not as unfeeling, dead-eyed feeding machines but
as sentient, aware, social, and even Machiavellian—in other words, much
like us.
What a Fish Knows draws on the latest science
to present a fresh look at these remarkable creatures in all their
breathtaking diversity and beauty. Fishes conduct elaborate courtship
rituals and develop lifelong bonds with shoalmates. They also plan, hunt
cooperatively, use tools, curry favor, deceive one another, and punish
wrongdoers. We may imagine that fishes lead simple, fleeting lives—a
mode of existence that boils down to a place on the food chain, rote
spawning, and lots of aimless swimming. But, as Balcombe demonstrates,
the truth is far richer and more complex, worthy of the grandest social
novel.
Highlighting breakthrough discoveries from
fish enthusiasts and scientists around the world and pondering his own
encounters with fishes, Balcombe examines the fascinating means by which
fishes gain knowledge of the places they inhabit, from shallow tide
pools to the deepest reaches of the ocean.
Fish get short shrift when
we are thinking about animal behaviour. Consider the poor maligned gold
fish, which is reputed to have an attention span of mere seconds.
Incorrect, as it turns out—gold fish can learn tasks and retain that
learning for months.
I’m not a diver. I can’t swim and water
will always be a scary place for me, but I can see where this book would
be very interesting to anyone who spends time in the underwater world.
Fish are much more interesting that I gave them credit for. I’m a
birder, after all, and so I’m a little biased (although I certainly know
that the term “bird brain” is actually more of a compliment than an
insult).
It’s difficult for us to imagine what a fish’s life is
like—they live in a completely different medium than we do, have extra
senses that we can’t fathom, and have unexpressive faces. I think that
last point is the one that leads us to underestimate fishes—we value
expressiveness over evidence, I think, because it’s something we’re good
at.
If you are interested in matters of animal intelligence (and human judginess) I would recommend Franz de Waal’s excellent book Are We Smart Enough to Know How Smart Animals Are?.
 |
| 3.5 out of 5 stars |
The tall,
handsome Abdul Karim was just twenty-four years old when he arrived in
England from Agra to wait at tables during Queen Victoria's Golden
Jubilee. An assistant clerk at Agra Central Jail, he suddenly found
himself a personal attendant to the Empress of India herself. Within a
year, he was established as a powerful figure at court, becoming the
queen's teacher, or Munshi, and instructing her in Urdu and Indian
affairs. Devastated by the death of John Brown, her Scottish gillie, the
queen had at last found his replacement. But her intense and
controversial relationship with the Munshi led to a near-revolt in the
royal household. Victoria & Abdul examines how a young Indian Muslim
came to play a central role at the heart of the Empire, and his
influence over the queen at a time when independence movements in the
sub-continent were growing in force. Yet, at its heart, it is a tender
love story between an ordinary Indian and his elderly queen, a
relationship that survived the best attempts to destroy it.
I saw the film based on
this book last year and really enjoyed it, but I had to wonder how much
the screenwriters had fiddled with the facts to make a more engaging
film. When I saw that this year’s PopSugar challenge included a category
called “Book made into a movie that you’ve already seen,” I immediately
knew which book I would be reading.
I was grateful for the
author’s footnotes and references—she certainly did her research. I
think we all feel we “know” about Queen Victoria, but I found I really
only had a general impression of the woman. I had no idea until seeing
the film that she had Indian people serving in her household or that she
had become close friends with one of them.
In many ways, this
is a story of a lonely woman who finds a friend and a new interest in
life. I would agree with the author, that Her Maj was a romantic at
heart and the exoticness of India (in comparison to Britain) was what
drew her to Abdul Karim and his culture. I was impressed by her devotion
to the study of Urdu and her proficiency in that language at the end of
her life—she got a late start, but made excellent headway on a language
that was far different than others she was used to.
As Abdul
became one of her favourites, it was inevitable that he would become the
target of people who were jealous. The Queen believed much of the
rivalry to be a result of racism, and I would have to agree with her
assessment. If Abdul had been a white man (like John Brown), there would
still have been resentment, but not the volcanic rage that seemed to
permeate the Royal Household regarding this Indian man. It must have
been a very lonely life for Abdul, as well, with the other Indians
begrudging him his relationship with the Queen, not to mention the
hatred of the Caucasian members of staff.
Regarding the film
versus the book, I think the film stayed pretty true to the facts. There
were a few events that were left out (you can’t include everything) and
a few things where the order of events may have been slightly changed,
but it remained very true to the feel of the book. Overall, I would say
that I enjoyed the film more.
An interesting window into the life of an intriguing woman.
 |
| 5 out of 5 stars |
‘I really did have an empire, you know,’ said Dunbar. ‘Have I ever told you the story of how it was stolen from me?’
Henry
Dunbar, the once all-powerful head of a global corporation, is not
having a good day. In his dotage he handed over care of the family firm
to his two eldest daughters, Abby and Megan. But relations quickly
soured, leaving him doubting the wisdom of past decisions...
Now
imprisoned in a care home in the Lake District with only a demented
alcoholic comedian as company, Dunbar starts planning his escape. As he
flees into the hills, his family is hot on his heels. But who will find
him first, his beloved youngest daughter, Florence, or the tigresses
Abby and Megan, so keen to divest him of his estate?
This is the Hogath
Shakespeare’s version of King Lear, a play that I have seen performed at
least twice in the last couple of years. It’s a powerful story and I
would imagine that it would be a daunting piece to take on in a
retelling such as this one, but Edward St. Aubyn was certainly up to the
task!
I picked it up Sunday morning, meaning to just get a start
on it. After all, I already knew the inevitable ending—everybody dies,
right? But St. Aubyn’s creation grabbed me and would not let go! He made
it fresh with Henry Dunbar, the media mogul, whose hubris has brought
him low. I read the entire thing before lunch!
I was impressed by
both performances of Lear that I’ve seen, but they both played up Lear
as suffering from dementia, as that’s one of the concerns of modern
society. But St. Aubyn returned to Shakespeare’s original intention, I
think, that Dunbar is brought low by his desire to have privilege
without responsibility. Like Lear in the play, Dunbar regains his wits
just long enough to realize all that he has lost, a truly tragic ending.
I
really loved the drunken comedian, Peter Walker, in his role as the
fool. That was an inspired bit of casting on the author’s part.
How have I not read any of St. Aubyn’s work before? That mistake must be corrected!
 |
| 3 out of 5 stars |
Based on the
experience of real-life Auschwitz prisoner Dita Kraus, this is the
incredible story of a girl who risked her life to keep the magic of
books alive during the Holocaust.
Fourteen-year-old
Dita is one of the many imprisoned by the Nazis at Auschwitz. Taken,
along with her mother and father, from the Terezín ghetto in Prague,
Dita is adjusting to the constant terror that is life in the camp. When
Jewish leader Freddy Hirsch asks Dita to take charge of the eight
precious volumes the prisoners have managed to sneak past the guards,
she agrees. And so Dita becomes the librarian of Auschwitz.
I enjoyed this book quite a
bit, but I must admit that I was hoping for more. The story itself is
fascinating and that’s what kept me reading. The writing was pedestrian,
which was a disappointment. Still, I would recommend the book to those
looking for an inspirational story concerning Auschwitz.
The
narrative closely follows Dita Kraus, a 14 year old girl in the
Auschwitz family camp and her experiences as the keeper and protector of
eight forbidden books. I was interested that one of them was a history
text by H.G. Wells, as I have been cataloguing a large collection of
Wells’ writing during my work hours. I was also glad to see that they
had several people that they designated as “living books” because they
could tell certain stories (one woman could recount The Count of Monte
Cristo). The concept of living books has recently been used at our
city’s public library, so I was thrilled to see an example of the
history of the practice.
If this time period and setting are interests of yours, I would recommend this book.
 |
| 2.5-3 stars out of 5 |
Hostile
in ways that a surface-dweller could never know, the tunnel-mazes of the
Underdark challenge all who tread there. Among these souls are Drizzt
Do’Urden and his magical cat, Guenhwyvar. Exiled from his drow homeland,
Drizzt must fight for a new home in the boundless labyrinth. Meanwhile,
he must watch for signs of pursuit—for the dark elves are not a
forgiving race.
The books in this series
have the virtue of being quick & easy to read, perfect for a Friday
evening after a long work week. This is book two of Drizzt’s back
story—wherein he lives by himself in the tunnels of the Underdark until
he can’t take the solitude anymore and seeks companionship with mixed
results.
As one of my cousins pointed out to me, Salvatore writes
great fight scenes and they are very much on display in this
installment. In fact, the book is basically a series of fights, stitched
together with a very little bit of plot. I will also give Salvatore
credit for inventing some great Underdark creatures and cultures for
Drizzt to fight with.
Book number 274 in my Science Fiction & Fantasy Reading Project.
 |
| 4 out of 5 stars |
Grace Marks has
been convicted for her involvement in the vicious murders of her
employer, Thomas Kinnear, and Nancy Montgomery, his housekeeper and
mistress. Some believe Grace is innocent; others think her evil or
insane. Now serving a life sentence, Grace claims to have no memory of
the murders.
Dr. Simon Jordan, an up-and-coming expert in the
burgeoning field of mental illness, is engaged by a group of reformers
and spiritualists who seek a pardon for Grace. He listens to her story
while bringing her closer and closer to the day she cannot remember.
What will he find in attempting to unlock her memories? Is Grace a
female fiend? A bloodthirsty femme fatale? Or is she the victim of
circumstances?
I read this novel to fill
the A in my Women Authors A to Z reading challenge and a “Book about a
villain or anti-hero” for my 2018 PopSugar challenge.
For me, Margaret Atwood rarely disappoints and Alias Grace
was no exception. Despite the fact that I’m recovering from a nasty
cold and need all the sleep that I can get, I found myself up after
bedtime, obsessively following the life of Grace Marks. Atwood has taken
a historical figure and told her story—sticking to the facts, but
embroidering around them in a beguiling fashion.
The themes are
timeless—who is telling the truth? Whose truth? Who are we to believe?
Does the justice system really offer us justice? Who gets to decide?
Though
much of the novel is seen through Grace’s eyes, I still didn’t feel
like I knew her well enough to judge—did she assist with the murders or
was she merely an accessory after the fact? All of the might-have-beens
weighed heavily on me. If only she had chosen this path or that one,
things might have been so different.
A truly engrossing story.
 |
| 3.5 stars out of 5 |
Jean Mason has a
doppelganger. At least, that's what people tell her. Apparently it hangs
out in Kensington Market, where it sometimes buys churros and shops for
hats. Jean doesn't rattle easy, not like she used to. She's a grown
woman with a husband and two kids, as well as a thriving business, and
Toronto is a fresh start for the whole family. She certainly doesn't
want to get involved in anything dubious, but still . . . why would two
different strangers swear up and down they'd just seen her--with shorter
hair furthermore?
Jean's curiosity quickly gets the better of
her, and she visits the market, but sees no one who looks like her. The
next day, she goes back to look again. And the day after that. Before
she knows it, she's spending an hour here, an afternoon there, watching,
taking notes, obsessing and getting scared. With the aid of a small
army of locals who hang around in the market's only park, she expands
her surveillance, making it known she'll pay for information or
sightings. A peculiar collection of drug addicts, scam artists,
philanthropists, philosophers and vagrants--the regulars of Bellevue
Square--are eager to contribute to Jean's investigation. But when some
of them start disappearing, it becomes apparent that her alleged double
has a sinister agenda. Unless Jean stops her, she and everyone she cares
about will face a fate stranger than death
I rate this book at 3.5
stars. This despite the fact that I almost quit reading about halfway
through it. At that point, it seemed like just another domestic noir
novel and I couldn’t see why it was a Giller prize finalist—what could
it possibly offer to deserve that? But I was home on a snowy day,
appointments cancelled, coffee waiting, reading blanket at the ready,
and I decided that I would give it a few more pages.
Suddenly
things took a completely unexpected turn. I found myself questioning
everything. The rest of the book slaloms back and forth between
realities until I couldn’t distinguish between them anymore. I was
hooked.
And then it ended. Those of you who know me, know that I
like messy and ambiguous endings. Except this one. I was left absolutely
baffled and unsure what the point of the whole exercise actually was.
This was too much even for me.
Apparently there are two more similar books to come. I doubt that I will bother with them after this experience.
