Dear Mrs. Bird by AJ Pearce: A Review

“I tried to take a deep breath and be British and brave, but it didn’t work, and instead, the tears began. Masses of them. Where did tears like that come from and how did they get there so fast? Were they always there, just waiting for something dreadful to happen? What a horrible job they had.” – AJ Pearce, Dear Mrs. Bird

This was a surprisingly touching novel to me. Dear Mrs. Bird‘s main character, Emmy, is living in London during the Blitz with her best friend Bunty, at a time when the German Luftwaffe bombed British cities regularly in an attempt to force Britain out of the war. With dreams of becoming a Lady War Correspondent, Emmy accidentally takes a job as a junior typist working for an advice column, “Henrietta Helps”, in Woman’s Friend magazine. On top of the initial embarrassment of realizing her new job is not going to have her reporting from the front lines of the war, it turns out “Henrietta” is Mrs. Bird, a woman who shouts a lot and has a long list of things that she refuses to respond to when readers write in requesting help (Affair, Amorous, Ardent, Bed, Bedroom, Bed jacket, Berlin … and it goes on). Emmy can’t stand the idea of these poor readers, many of whom are struggling with very difficult personal situations that are compounded by the war, being ignored completely by Mrs. Bird and so she begins to write back in secret, posing as Mrs. Bird. But this is only her day job; anxious to do her part in supporting the war effort, Emmy volunteers several nights a week in the Auxiliary Fire Service, dispatching fire fighters across London to deal with the fires set by the Luftwaffe’s bombs. She often gets only an hour or two of sleep between leaving the fire station and heading off to work again.

Emmy is a comedic heroine; often her big heart and a short-sighted desire to help get her into a lot of trouble but she never loses her desire to improve her own situation or help those around her in any way she can. I described this book to a friend as a 1940s Bridget Jones but with the emotional vibe of a Christmas movie (another way to say this is that I really liked it). Often it is Pearce’s funny elements that offset the tragedies of the war, like when Emmy is set up on a date with a soldier from a bomb disposal unit who constantly shouts because of the ringing in his ears. Other times, like through the letters Emmy receives at “Henrietta Helps”, characters’ fears and desperation come to the forefront, highlighting the incredibly difficult circumstances people faced on a daily basis. There were times reading this novel when I laughed out loud and other times when I had tears in my eyes.

One of the important things this novel does is to emphasize the roles of women on the British home front during the war, not just in terms of the work they did to support the war effort, but also in terms of the challenges they faced: falling out of love with husbands who had been gone for months, trying to decide whether to send children away or keep them with you and risking the bombings, having sweethearts leave you for someone they met overseas. Many of these women worked long hours in very uncertain circumstances and yet they were expected to keep their fears to themselves, the keep their chins up, a stiff upper lip and to smile, smile, smile. They were told that to do otherwise was unpatriotic and weak; that they needed to show Hitler that they could not be defeated.

Pearce’s inspiration for the novel began when she came across a copy of a women’s magazine from 1939. She was most struck by the Problem Page and she went on to read many letters from readers in wartime magazines during her research. The novel really is a tribute to the experiences of these women, told through Emmy and Bunty’s stories in a way that makes them relatable even though we are so far removed from wartime London. Pearce writes,

Many of the readers’ letters in Dear Mrs. Bird were inspired by the letters and advice, articles and features printed in those wartime magazines. I found them thought-provoking, moving, and inspirational, and my admiration for the women of that time never stops growing. Our mothers, grandmothers, great-grandmothers, and friends, some of whom I hope may even read and enjoy Emmy and Bunty’s story. It is a privilege to look into their world and remember what incredible women and girls they all were.

I would recommend Dear Mrs. Bird in a heartbeat. It is charming and touching and funny without glossing over the difficulties of the war. At its heart, it is really about friendship and finding the strength to push on, if not for yourself, then for those you love. If you read Dear Mrs. Bird, (and I know some of you plan to) I would love to know if you liked it as much as I did. Until next week, happy reading!

Next Year in Havana by Chanel Cleeton: A Review

“To be Cuban is to be proud – it is both our greatest gift and our biggest curse. We serve no kinds, bow no heads, bear our troubles on our backs as though they are nothing at all. There is an art to this, you see. An art to appearing as thought everything is effortless, that your world is a gilded one, when the reality is that your knees beneath your silk gown buckle from the weight of it all. We are silk and lace, and beneath them we are steel.” – Chanel Cleeton, Next Year in Havana

The phrase, “next year in Havana” is a toast used within the Cuban exile community in Miami that expresses the now generations-long desire to be able to return to their homeland. The novel is set in two time periods and follows the experiences of two very different women: Elisa, the daughter of a Cuban sugar baron on the eve of the Cuban Revolution, and Marisol, her granddaughter, who grows up in contemporary Miami as a result of Elisa’s family having fled the island years before to avoid reprisals from Fidel Castro’s regime. The novel moves between the two characters’ experiences as Elisa struggles to come to terms with the life she has always known – a world protected by wealth, influence and corruption – crumbles around her, and Marisol’s return to Cuba to spread the ashes of her grandmother on the land she loved. As the story unfolds, a number of family secrets are revealed, including Elisa’s love affair with a Cuban revolutionary that could have torn her family apart.

I really enjoyed this novel. In fact, to get through the 356 pages in a week, I decided I would get up early every day to get some reading in and I found myself looking forward to starting my day with a few chapters with a cup of coffee (let me stress, I am in no way, shape or form a “morning person”). At times, I was frustrated by how oblivious Elisa was to the suffering of the majority of Cuban people while her family lived in a bubble of high society parties, but I also appreciated the ways in which the novel revealed the complexities of being Cuban. Cleeton is the descendant of Cubans who fled after the revolution and Marisol’s character reflects that experience. There are obvious political divides within the novel like those that separate Batista’s supporters from Castro’s but the divides go much deeper. In 1959 when Castro came to power, many wealthy Cubans fled – there is friction to this day between those who left and those who stayed. Many exiles want to see the return of Cuba as it was in their memories, decades ago, and contemporary Cubans living in Cuba are divided between those who support the government and those who seek to overthrow it. As the grandaughter of an exile, Marisol’s understanding of Cuba is shaped by her family’s memories – what they see as ‘preserving’ the Cuba that existed before it was destroyed by the revolution, but this is challenged when she goes to Cuba:

You cannot live in a museum, Marisol. The problem with your ‘preservation’ is that it fails to account for the fact that there is a real Cuba. A living, breathing Cuba. You’re all busy fighting imaginary ghosts in Miami while we’re here, bleeding on the ground, dealing with real problems … You’re still pissed because your grand mansions were taken away and are now occupied by the very men you hate the most. The rest of us are caught in the middle, worrying about how to survive.”

But this is not just a novel that deals with the history or politics of Cuba: it is also a love story. Elisa’s love for Pablo, a revolutionary fighting against everything her family stands for, has the potential to destroy her life; decades later, Marisol goes to Cuba and falls in love with a revolutionary of a sort herself, but Luis is a history professor dedicated to ending the regime of Castro and his followers. Hope and loss are a constant in the novel as each character attempts to define what it means to be Cuban against a shifting and uncertain landscape.

If you are dreaming of an escape to Cuba now that winter really feels like it’s here, then it would be worth picking up Next Year in Havana. The storyline is compelling and emotional and Cleeton’s writing brings to light the beauty of Cuba and its people. If you read this one, drop me a line and let me know what you think. And now off to World War 2 London with Dear Mrs Bird!

The Little French Bistro by Nina George: A Review

“Emile sat awkwardly beside her on the cold stone floor. He had known Pascale for his whole life. He had seen her in her prime, during her golden age of strength and beauty, and had enjoyed every stage. He knew every woman she’s ever been.” – Nina George, The Little French Bistro

This book has all the charm of a novel set in a small, French village: there is fresh food, fashion, art, a flock of nuns and just about every kind of love imaginable. Broken hearts, unrequited love, one true love, new love, dying love, rekindled love – you name it – The Little French Bistro has it.

The main character, a German woman in her early sixties named Marianne, goes on a bus tour of France with her odious husband, Lothar. When the group is dining at a restaurant in Paris (and Lothar is busy flirting with another woman), Marianne decides she can stand her life no longer and escapes the restaurant to make her way to the Pont Neuf to throw herself off and drown in the Seine. It is the first choice she has made for herself in decades and it exhilirates her to know that she is ending her life on her own terms. Except … she is rescued from the river and rushed to hospital. While confined in the hospital, Marianne finds a little tile with the image of a tiny Breton village, Kerdruc, painted on it and takes it as a sign. She escapes once again, this time to find the village on the west coast of France and drown herself in the sea. When she reaches the village of Kerdruc in Brittany, she finds that day by day her desire to die is replaced by a desire to live. George fills the village with a cast of charming characters who help Marianne to discover who she really is. There were aspects of the novel that reminded me of Joanne Harris’ novel, Chocolat: an outsider coming to town, a handsome young man (but this time he’s more biker than gypsy), a whiff of magic from time to time. But George’s heroine is a little sixty-year-old lady from Germany who arrives with only the clothes on her back and no faith in herself yet eventually she rebuilds her life.

George admits she loves to write about feeling but for me at times, this aspect of the book was overdone. Literally every character – I mean every character – is either in love, falling out of love, wishing for love etc. etc. Because her characters span such a wide range of ages, I think George is trying to show that romantic love is an important part of the human condition throughout our adult lives. Since the love stories are often unconventional, there are times when her characters end up in situations that left me amused or sympathic but I did find it a bit heavy-handed at times.

What I love about this book (See? Love – it’s everywhere) are George’s descriptions of Brittany. I knew nothing about this region of France before reading the book and now it’s on my bucket list. Locals call the region “the end of the world” because it sticks into the Atlantic Ocean. It’s history is old, like giant paleolithic rock structures old (think Stonehenge). The people have their own language – Breton – and can trace their roots to Celts and Druids. In fact, the Bretons consider their history linked with the peoples of Ireland, Scotland and Wales, which makes the connection between Nova Scotia (new Scotland) and Cape Breton (Breton, as in Bretagne, as in Brittany) kind of apt. And Kerdruc is a real village where George happens to live part-time. She describes the region with so much affection for its people and its culture and the land itself that Brittany almost feels like a character in the novel rather that just the setting. She weaves Breton folklore, supersition and language into the book to give the reader a sense of how distinct it is from other regions of France. I admit I was completely charmed by her descriptions.

So if you are in the mood for a love story (or a lot of love stories all at once) or maybe just a quick trip to France without every leaving your living room, you might want to check out The Little French Bistro.

The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin: A Review

“Most adults claim not to believe in magic, but Klara knows better. Why else would anyone play at permanence – fall in love, have children, buy a house – in the face of all evidence there’s no such thing? The trick is not to convert them. The trick is to get them to admit it.” – Chloe Benjamin, The Immortalists

Well, add this one to your Christmas lists, folks. Or maybe treat yourself a little early. The Immortalists is an imaginative, thoughtfully written book. (And I told you it has a gorgeous cover). Divided into five parts, the novel begins in New York City at the end of the 1960s. The Gold siblings – Varya, Daniel, Klara and Simon – sneak off to visit a psychic who has set up shop in an apartment on Hester Street. One by one, they enter her apartment to be told the exact day they will die. There is just one hitch: she makes them swear that they won’t tell anyone else what they’ve learned, not even each other. While they are upset by the knowledge at first, eventually they seem to leave it behind, dismissing it as a childish adventure. Except that the experience never really leaves any of them. Benjamin describes how in one way or another, each sibling struggles, but cannot let go of the prophecy the psychic has given them: ” … the memory of the woman on Hester Street is like a miniscule needle in his stomach, something he swallowed long ago and which floats, undetectable, except for moments when he moves a certain way and feels a prick.”

Each of the other four sections of the novel follow one of the four siblings as they approach the day the psychic prophesied their deaths. Benjamin renders each of the sibling’s stories so uniquely that you are completely drawn in each time. Throughout the novel she weaves in contradictions between fate and choice, religion and science, faith and reason, life and death. As their stories unfold, the siblings have to confront the fact that seeing that psychic may have consciously or unconsciously shaped the choices they made in their lives. They are forced to ask themselves, do they believe? Do the others? And ultimately: “is it more important to truly live or to survive? To dare to dream at our grandest or to play it safe?” Their answers to those questions set their lives on very different trajectories as they struggle with what it means to pursue their own dreams and still hold their family together. Distinct personalities from the outset of the novel, Benjamin never makes it clear how much of the Golds’ identities and choices are a result of their own nature, and how much was shaped by their experience with the psychic. Beautifully written and at times heart-breaking, this is a novel that you will continue to think about long after you’ve put it down.

After having read The Immortalists, I wonder which of the Gold siblings’ stories spoke the most to other readers. If you read it, drop me a note and let me know what you think. I love hearing your perspectives on the books. Until next time, happy reading!

November Line Up

While I am usually happy with my home on the east coast, if there is one month I feel a little less than grateful, it’s November. It’s dark, cold, wet, dreary, gray – I could play this game for a long time, folks. So for this month, the theme is “Get Me Out of Here!” If I can’t escape the magical weather combination of drizzle and sleet that November brings in real life, at least I can travel via book. All of this month’s selections are set in other places so maybe you’ll find one in here too to help you beat the November blahs.

November 3: The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin. I first picked this book up because I loved the cover (I know what you’re thinking but let’s all admit, sometimes beautiful books actually do have beautiful covers). The concept behind the story is really interesting: one hot summer day in 1969, four siblings in New York City visit a psychic who tell each one the exact day they will die. The rest of the novel is divided into four parts, one devoted to each sibling as Benjamin reveals how the prophecy influences each of their lives. The story zigzags across the US as the siblings move away from their childhood home in NYC in pursuit of their dreams.

November 10: The Little French Bistro by Nina George. I really enjoyed George’s other novel, The Little Paris Bookshop, which hooked me with the idea of a bookshop in a canal boat that goes floating around the rivers of France. It was totally charming and sweet, oh, and there were recipes in the back of the book for all the French food George writes about in the novel. What’s not to love? In her new novel, George’s main character, Marianne, packs it in after she can stand her unhappy marriage no longer and leaves Paris for the Brittany coast. And there are recipes again, so I will let you know if I try any…

November 17: Next Year in Havana by Chanel Cleeton. This is a recent Reese’s Book Club pick. I will admit, I really do love Reese Witherspoon. She is amazing in HBO’s Big Little Lies (if you haven’t watched it, read the book first, it is so good) and she does a lot to promote all things bookish. I also really love Cuba. The country, the people and the culture are beautiful and the island’s history is fascinating so I was sold on this book. The story is set between 1958, in the years before the revolution and in Miami in 2017 and follows two women, Elisa, a member of a wealthy Cuban family who is forced to flee during the revolution and Marisol, her granddaughter, who eventually returns to Cuba to scatter Elisa’s ashes in the country of her birth.

November 24: Dear Mrs. Bird by AJ Pearce. This novel is set in London during World War II. The main character, Emmeline, dreams of becoming a war correspondent. Instead, she ends up answering letters for Mrs. Bird, a renowned advice columnist. Mrs. Bird tells Emmy to throw any letters that involve Unpleasantness straight into the garbage but Emmy ends up reading them and answering them in secret. This book is supposed to be both funny and moving, so I am really looking forward to it.

So there we are, the continental US, France, Cuba and England. You can take your pick but while the November rain pours down, I am going to be somewhere cozy with a good book and I hope you will be too. Let me know if you plan on picking up any of November’s books!

The Massey Murder by Charlotte Gray: A Review

“In the early twentieth century, most women and men believed that, while men committed crime, women committed sins.” – Charlotte Gray, The Massey Murder

This book really surprised me. As a rule, I don’t really like reading non-fiction books about history. The writing is often dry, in my opinion. So this one has been sitting in my To Read Pile for a few years and I decided that as part of my challenge this year, I would push myself to read something I wouldn’t normally pick up. I blew the dust off The Massey Murder and I am so glad now that I did.

The book is written by Canadian historian and biographer, Charlotte Gray. It recounts the murder of Bert Massey (of that Massey family in Toronto) by his eighteen-year-old maid in 1915. The book is not really so much about the murder as the public reaction to the murder – Gray brings together a lot of factors to demonstrate why the trial of the maid, Carrie Davies, became a media sensation. Gray exposes the ways in which the trial brought to the surface so much of what was happening in Toronto society at the time: opinions about gender politics, class, immigration, the role of the media in shaping public perceptions of current events, the First World War (which was raging in Europe at the time) and the differences between the letter of the law and notions of justice. Through her research she was able to expose the relationship between business and political interests and the way news is reported. She demonstrates how people’s perceptions of women shaped their opinions of Davies’ innocence or guilt (despite irrefutable evidence that she did shoot and kill Massey). Despite the evidence, Davies would eventually plead not guilty on the grounds that Massey had allegedly attempted to rape her and she feared he would do it again – would her all-male jury agree that this was an act of self-defense despite the fact that Massey was returning home from work and unarmed when she shot him on his front step? Gray’s writing style is very engaging so her account unfolds like the plot of a good historical novel (although don’t be fooled, she has done her research).

What intrigued me most is that despite the fact that Gray is writing about a case that is now over 100 years old, our society is still debating so many of the same questions. When you consider the criticisms that our justice system does not serve the poor and marginalized, that women are still reporting sexual assaults at the hands of powerful male employers, that entanglements between media, politicians and business still allow people to question the validity of what is being reported, it almost seems that Gray could be writing about today. The context may have changed, but in many cases, the situation has not. The Massey Murder is a thought-provoking read, the story is so engrossing that I was looking forward to the chance to read it each night.

If you have read a really good historical book, drop me a line and let me know. Until next week, happy reading!

Bonus Book: The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

“There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move, they pierce your skin, enter your blood, numb your thoughts. Inside you they work their magic.”
― Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth Tale

This novel is by turns beautiful and disturbing. The narrative is set as a story-within-a-story as Margaret Lea, the main character, is asked to write the biography of Vida Winter, a bestselling author. Winter is notorious for making up conflicting accounts of her past to interviewers but her life is revealed through her interviews with Margaret, and some detective work Margaret does to ensure that she too, is not falling victim to Winter’s stories.

The book is a nod to the works of writers like the Bronte sisters and Victorian Gothic novels. There is a reclusive family, secrets, a sprawling country estate, twins who are doomed to be driven apart and even a few mad women for good measure (although these ones are not locked up in the attic). As Margaret untangles the truth of Winter’s past, she also makes peace with her own. Despite relying on classic elements of mystery and horror stories, Setterfield’s writing is unique and each piece of the past that is revealed keeps the reader guessing what will come next.

As a mystery novel, The Thirteenth Tale stands on its own but I think it really captured me because it is also a love letter to stories. Setterfield is a beautiful writer and much of the novel revolves around story – how her characters use it to create, reinvent, comfort and deceive:

“People disappear when they die. Their voice, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living memory of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continue to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humor, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in the ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.”

I have recommended The Thirteenth Tale to a lot of people over the years. There is a kind of terrible beauty to the novel that left me thinking about it long after I had finished it. I hope it can make its way into your “To Read Pile” too.

Fear by Dirk Kurbjuweit: A Review

“We always live at least two lives, especially after a big decision: The life we decided on and the life we decided against. In our minds we let that other life play out, comparing it with our actual situation.” – Dirk Kurbjuweit, Fear.

Happy weekend everybody! This week’s book was an interesting one. Fear is a German novel that poses the question: how far would you go if you were afraid for your family? Randolf Tiefenthaler, the narrator, is a relatively successful architect in Berlin. He has an intelligent and entertaining wife, Rebecca, two children and lives in a nice ground-floor flat. He thinks of himself as a law-abiding citizen, someone who values law over disorder, intellect over action, words over force: a modern man.

The novel unfolds as Randolf records the events that led up to his father being found guilty of manslaughter in the death of Dieter Tiberius. A man who grew up in the foster system and is essentially a shut-in, Tiberius lived in the flat below the Tiefenthalers and became obsessed with Rebecca. He writes letters and poems that both threaten and disgust the Tiefenthalers; he accuses them of abusing the children, he calls the police on them repeatedly. He watches Randolf’s children when they play outside on their trampoline. He peers in their windows at night. The Tiefenthalers become increasingly afraid for themselves and their children. What if Tiberius does something to the children? What if the police believe his stories? The problem is, despite terrorizing the family, Tiberius has not broken any laws – the lawyers, the police, and their landlord claim that their hands are tied. Until Tiberius breaks the law, there is no one who can help the Tiefenthalers.

The situation forces Randolf to reevaluate himself and his life. He had long written off his father and brother (neither of whom are opposed to violence) as being lesser. As Tiberius continues to harass the family, Randolf questions himself as a father, a husband and ultimately a man. As a young person he rejected his father’s enthusiasm for guns and his brother’s preference for solving problems with his fists. He put his faith in law and logic. But then the law fails. Not knowing what else to do, Randolf turns to his father, knowing what he is asking him to do. When the story begins, Tiberius is dead and Randolf’s father is serving a jail sentence for his killing.

The author forces the reader to confront a lot of questions about morality throughout the novel. Dieter Tiberius is the obvious villain but Randolf and Rebecca are flawed as well, they have characteristics that are not very appealing: Randolf lies to his wife and shirks his family responsibilities, Rebecca throws screaming fits. Their marriage is falling apart. And then Tiberius comes into their lives and somehow they become better people – and worse – because of their experiences with him. They pull together as a family in a way that was unlikely before the harassment began: and then the characters must ask themselves, what does it mean if the good you experience in your life is a direct consequence of the evil? How far would you go to protect that goodness?

I think this novel is really much more intellectual that the genre would lead readers to expect. It is a thriller but the fear isn’t so much driven from the plot, but from the kinds of questions it poses: what would you do if your spouse was threatened? Your children? What kind of person does it make you if you couldn’t make yourself do what it took to protect them? Dieter Tiberius is like a nightmare figure – the threat he poses is the fear he creates in the characters’ minds. For me, this was a much more satisfying book than last week’s in a dark, dark wood. The way the narrative is structured make it feel very real, like this was something that could happen to anyone at any time. That is what makes it so compelling as a reader because as Randolf questions his decisions and tries to make sense of what happened, the reader can’t help but ask themselves the same questions.

If you read Fear, drop me a note and let me know what you think. Until next week, happy reading!

in a dark, dark wood by Ruth Ware: A Review

“For some reason his words made me shiver. Perhaps it was the tree trunks, like silent watchers in the growing dark.” in a dark, dark wood, Ruth Ware

I will give Ruth Ware this: in a dark dark wood begins with a compelling hook. Imagine one day you get an invitation. Imagine that your childhood best friend is getting married and her maid of honor has invited you and a select group of other people to spend a weekend away for her hen do (that’s British-speak for a 48 hour bachelorette party). Now imagine you haven’t seen or spoken to that childhood friend since you skipped town a decade ago. Would you go? Oh, and the hen weekend is in a glass house in the woods in the middle of nowhere. That is the choice that faces Nora, the main character, in the opening chapters of the book.

In some ways, this novel follows the same patterns as a lot of contemporary domestic thrillers like Girl on the Train or The Woman in Cabin 10. When the novel opens, Nora is in hospital. There has been an accident but she can’t remember what happened; she thinks someone might be dead. The story line moves back and forth between Nora’s present, trying to piece together what happened, and her past when she reluctantly agreed to go on the hen weekend. As the novel shifts from present to past and back again, Ware does the same with Nora’s character development, revealing her solitary life in London and eventually her back story as a girl (known as Lee to her friends) growing up in Reading. As the reader pieces together the fragments that Nora remembers with her past experiences as Lee, darker secrets are revealed. What’s interesting is that despite following the popular style of genre, Ware also gives a nod to classic locked room mysteries – six guests in a house in the woods, no cell reception, everyone seems to know something that the others don’t, and then something very bad happens…

I don’t want to say too much about the plot in case you are planning on reading in a dark, dark wood but I did like the interplay between classic and contemporary thrillers in this novel. (And Flo, the maid of honor and bride’s bff who turns out to be a little Single White Female, is pitch perfect). The one issue I had with the book is that much of the plot hinges on a romantic relationship that has left Nora brokenhearted and explains why she lives such a solitary life. That would be understandable, except that the relationship ended ten years ago when she was sixteen. Maybe I’m just not a romantic, but to me that was a little hard to believe and left me feeling a little apathetic about some of the events that occurred as a result.

If you have read in a dark, dark wood, send me a note and let me know what you thought. Until next time, happy reading!

A Murder of Magpies by Judith Flanders: A Review

“I couldn’t really summon any enthusiasm for the idea that Kit’s disappearance had anything to do with his journalistic life. I was sure plenty of people disliked him, or were jealous – he was successful and he didn’t suffer fools gladly. Although who did? Were there fool sufferers who lined up, panicked there might not be enough fools to go around?” – A Murder of Magpies, by Judith Flanders

Happy October, everyone! If you like mystery, then A Murder of Magpies might be for you. The main character, Samantha Clair, works in publishing but becomes an amateur sleuth after one of her authors suddenly disappears. For the most part, the book follows the conventional lines of a whodunnit but Flanders incorporates a lot of elements that keeps her mystery feeling fresh rather than clichéd. Sam is a fiercely independent woman with a self-deprecating sense of humor. Her witty observations about her own actions and the actions of other characters give the story a tongue-in-cheek feel as Flanders pokes fun at the publishing industry, office politics, lawyers, mother/daughter relationships and just about anything else that crosses her path.

The mystery itself has a very contemporary feeling: a successful fashion journalist, Kit Lovell, disappears after preparing to publish a book connecting the suspicious death of a leading fashion designer to corruption and organized crime in the world of haute couture. In her attempt to find out what happened to Kit, Sam uncovers fraud, money laundering and has to consider that her friend has been murdered for uncovering the story. And at the same time, Sam has to figure how to tell her most successful author that the “blockbuster” she just handed in for editing is a complete dud. It is easy to get through this book quickly because the pace of the novel keeps you turning the page as Sam tries to simultaneous balance her full-time job as an editor with her newfound role as an amateur detective.

Two dimensional characters can be a pitfall of the mystery novels, but Flanders’ characters are well-developed and appealing. Sam’s mother is a very successful lawyer who is willing to help her daughter bend (ok, break) a few laws to help find Kit. Sam’s personal assistant is a goth millennial, her biggest rival at work is a pompous jerk named Ben. The officer assigned to the case is Jake Fields, who is by turns impressed and exasperated by the intelligence and tenacity of Sam and her mother as they mostly ignore his demands that they leave the detective work to the police. At every turn, the female characters in this book are clever, strong and resourceful. Sam goes toe-to-toe with high-powered attournies, the CEO of an international congolmerate and suspected criminals. If Inspector Field is looking for a damsal in distress to rescue, he won’t find her in this novel.

I won’t say much more because I don’t want to spoil it for anyone who wants to read A Murder of Magpies but as mysteries go, this one is bright and fun – equally as readable for its compelling characters and dry humour as for its complex mystery.

Are you reading a good mystery this fall? Drop me a comment and let me know! Until next week, happy reading!