I made a little progress this month in regaining my ability take in text with my eyes while anxious. I finished a couple of hard copy books, as well as a couple of ebooks, so it was less about audiobooks this month, though they were still the majority of what I read this month. On another of my weird "projects," designed to find some quality mysteries, I started reading some Edgar and Agatha winners--not sure that was really a success. But the month did include some good books, particularly Sabrina and Corina, a collection of short stories by Denver author Kali Fajardo-Anstine. More about that coming up.
Fiction
Sabrina and Corina, by Kali Fajardo-Anstine. I don't usually care for short stories, but this collection is excellent. The stories feature young Latina women, mostly living in the Denver area, and dealing with illness, isolation, injustice, violence, and loss of loved ones. Yes, the stories are dark, but they are beautifully written and force the reader to face the realities of these young women's lives. When, in the title story, Corina has to make-up her murdered cousin Sabrina, the scene is one you will not forget. Highly recommended.
Where Reasons End, by Yi-Yun Li. The author imagines a conversation between her mother and her dead teenage son, who died recently by suicide. The book is made doubly poignant by the knowledge that the author wrote the book in the months following her own son's suicide. The book is full of pain and beauty and is definitely worth reading.
Apierogon, by Colum McCann. I admire McCann's work, but Apierogon (a shape with a countably infinite number of sides) is challenging. It is the story of two fathers--one Palestinian, one Israeli--who have lost daughters to the conflict. They become friends and peace activists. Sounds like a simple and inspiring story but McCann puts it together from so many pieces (there are 1001 chapters, echoing the Arabian Nights), juggles time, and includes what seem to be odd tangents about birds (lots about birds), math, Philippe Petit, Francois Mitterand's last meal (bird-related), and other topics that appear to be unrelated but are, I'm sure, metaphoric in ways I don't grasp. I loved the parts of the book that were directly about the two fathers, their families, and their work--a section in the heart of the book actually uses the men's own words to describe their experience--but the rest left me scratching my head.
A Clockwork Orange, by Anthony Burgess. I am probably the only literate person who had never read the book nor seen the movie, but I surprised myself by appreciating the book, especially Burgess's creation of the nadsat argot that the young punks in the book spoke. I was also interested to learn that the American publish omitted the last chapter of the book because he didn't think American readers would appreciate an ending in which Alex leaves the gang behind. If you are now truly the last person on earth to read the book, I'd say go for it.
My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She's Sorry, by Frerik Backman. Backman's thing seems to be creating quirky characters, in this case seven-year-old Elsa, whose equally quirky grandmother has died and left her to deliver letters to the other oddballs in their building. This narrative is interwoven with fairy tales the grandmother told Elsa. In my estimation, Elsa is not a believable character and the fairy tales add nothing to the book. I have friends who loved this book, but I loathed it.
The Winter of Our Discontent, by John Steinbeck. Ethan Allan Hawley's family was once among their town's wealthiest, but his father lost the family fortune and Ethan is now a grocery store clerk. He operates under an ethical code and is faithful to his wife. But when he realizes that these qualities are not appreciated by others or by his wife and children, he hatches a plan to once again become rich. Steinbeck's story is cynical and depressing and beautifully written. My only objection to the book is the portrayal of women. Still, I recommend the book.
All Adults Here, by Emma Straub. All Adults Here is the story of Astrid Strick, a 68-year-old widow in a relationship with her female hairdresser, along with her three adult children (all with quirks and issues of their own), her wonderful teenage granddaughter, and the granddaughter's trans friend. The book deals with relationships of all kinds--family, friend, licit, illicit--and a variety of contemporary issues, from bullying to infidelity, community development, and how we damage our children. As I was listening I thought to myself, "this is like Anne Tyler without Baltimore." But it's definitely more entertaining than Tyler's recent work, such as her new short novel, Red Head by the Side of the Road, which has Baltimore and still is not very interesting. All Adults Here is recommended; Red Head is not.
Red Lotus, by Chris Bohjalian. Bohjalian's recent books have turned to mystery, and Red Lotus follows that trend. Alexis and Austin are in Vietnam on a bike tour when Austin disappears, and Alexis must face that her boyfriend was not who he seemed. The fact that the book is about a deadly plague is unsettling during the current environment; if you think China created the novel coronavirus, this book will feed your paranoia. If you hate rats, well, let's just say there's a lot about rats in this book. Still, it's an entertaining read.
Dear Edward, by Ann Napolitano. Twelve-year-old Edward is the only survivor of a plane crash that killed his parents and brother. The book chronicles his efforts to figure out a way forward interspersed with chapters that give a countdown of some of what was going on on the plane prior to the crash. It's an insightful look at how trauma affects people in ways most of us would not expect. The chapters about the plane sometimes felt unnecessary, but they did provide a change of tone that kept Edward's pain from overwhelming the reader. Recommended.
Whisper Network, by Chandler Baker. This book was a Reese Witherspoon book club choice, and it almost seemed like it was written so Reese could have a #MeToo book in her collection. Okay.
Mysteries
The Stranger Diaries, by Elly Griffiths (2020 Edgar Winner). Murder in a high school English faculty, complete with Gothic twists, a complete story within a story, and lots of literary references. Okay.
Down the River Unto the Sea, by Walter Mosley (2019 Edgar Winner). Former cop Joe King Oliver, damaged physically and spiritually from his imprisonment on Riker's Island on a trumped-up rape charge, decides to take his own case when the woman who accused him admits she lied. Okay.
Mardi Gras Murders, by Ellen Byron (2018 Agatha Winner). Southern setting, Southern history, Southern murders . .. not for me.
Long upon the Land, by Margaret Maron (2015 Agatha Winner). The fifth of the Judge Deborah Knott mysteries that have won the Agatha, this title fills in the back story of Deborah's parents, as Deborah and Dwight try to figure out who killed a man whose body was found on Knott family land. Okay.
Birds of a Feather, by Jacqueline Winspear (2004 Agatha Winner). In the second title in the Maisie Dobbs series, Maisie not only finds a missing heiress, she solves a series of murders, diagnoses her assistant's drug addiction, and gets him into a program. Pretty good.
Murphy's Law, by Rhys Bowen (2001 Agatha Winner). Molly Murphy immigrates to the United States under false pretenses, gets involved in a murder by a Tammany Hall insider, nearly gets killed herself, and meets a handsome Irish policeman. Dumb.
Masked Prey, by John Sandford. Lucas Davenport's latest case involves the children of politicians, the Internet, and right-wing groups. Sadly, Lucas seems to have devolved in a way that makes me not want to read any more of the Prey series.
Ambush, by Barbara Nickless. The third in the Sidney Parnell series set in Denver, Ambush picks up the story of Sidney's time in Iraq and the fate of the young Iraqi boy Malik. It's incredibly violent, includes a soap opera-worthy twist, and just isn't very rewarding.
Don't Make a Sound, by T.R. Ragan. Cub reporter Sawyer Brooks decides to investigate a series of unsolved materials in her small home town, while a group of five women vigilantes seek justice for their attackers. Not good.
When the Light Goes Out, by Mary Kubica. Truly awful.
Nonfiction
Once More We Saw Stars, by Jayson Greene. Greene's toddler daughter was killed by masonry that fell off the building where she and her grandmother were sitting on a bench outside. His book chronicles how he and his wife dealt with the pain of that loss. They definitely tried some unusual (read: woo-woo) methods of handling their grief, but whatever works. As a grandparent, my heart went out to the grandmother, who naturally felt responsible and, in their sorrow, the parents weren't able to help her as much as it seemed she needed. But the family did find a way forward, so overall the story ends on a hopeful note.
Favorite Passages
He cares about other people. . . Most men don't know the pleasure.
I thought of all the women my family had lost, the horrible things they'd witnessed, the acts they simply endured. Sabrina had become another face in a line of tragedies that stretched back generations. And soon, when the mood hit my grandmother just right, she'd sit at her kitchen table, a Styrofoam cup of lemonade in her warped hand, and she'd tell the story of Sabrina Cordova--how men loved her too much, how little she loved herself, how in the end it killed her. The stories always ended the same, only different girls died, and I didn't want to hear them anymore.
Sabrina and Corina, by Kali Fajardo Anstine
