"This Must Be the Place," by Kate Racculia

Reading an author’s first novel is always a gamble. Many -- probably most -- of the novels I read are by authors I have already read; some of these authors are on my “always get and read their latest books” list. So I usually don’t read a first novel unless I have either read an excellent review of the book, or had the book recommended to me by someone whose taste I trust, and know is similar to mine. One exception is sometimes books-on-CD. Since there are far fewer such CDs than there are books, and even fewer available at my local library, I sometimes take a chance on an unknown book, in interests of having new books to listen to in my car. I recently picked up at the library “This Must Be the Place” (Holt, 2010; CD Tantor, 2010), by Kate Racculia, a first novel full of quirky characters and surprises. The vividness of the characters is the main positive attribute of this novel; the mystery about the characters’ pasts is another. However, the latter attribute is slightly marred by the frequently overwrought telling of the story, with dramatic pauses and secrets dragged out a bit too lengthily. Arthur Rook’s wife Amy Henderson has died suddenly in Los Angeles, where they have been living, and Arthur -- in shock and not knowing what to do -- on impulse tracks down and stays with Amy’s closest childhood friend, Mona Jones, and her teenaged daughter Oneida, at their boarding house in the small town in New York State where Amy and Mona grew up. There are many portentous references to the long ago summer when the teenaged Mona and Amy ran away to the Jersey shore, to the mysterious events and repercussions that ensued, and to the way that summer set in motion a series of events that are now about to be revealed. A side story is that of Oneida’s boyfriend Eugene and his artistic, offbeat family, a family with secrets of its own. The story is enjoyable and even gripping at times, if a bit overwritten. A side note: the description of the author on the back cover of the CD includes the following sentence, which readers of this blog will know contains at least two elements always of interest to me (“Jane Austen” and “Canada”): “Kate Racculia grew up in Syracuse, New York, and attended college in Buffalo, where she studied illustration, design, Jane Austen, and Canada.”

"Sweet Tooth," by Ian McEwan

I was bowled over when I read Ian McEwan's novel "Atonement" some years ago. It was riveting, moving, powerful. Since I read it, I have read several others of his novels, and have had varying reactions to them. They are all wonderfully well written, but only some of them have engaged me. "On Chesil Beach" definitely did (see my post of 10/23/10); "Saturday" did to a lesser degree. But "Amsterdam" did not at all, and "Solar" mostly left me cold. Now I have just read McEwan's latest novel, "Sweet Tooth" (Doubleday, 2012), and although as usual it is well written, with an intriguing story, it just didn't draw me into its world. It should have, as it features several aspects that I usually like: it takes place in London in the early 1970s, with side trips to Brighton; and it features a female main character, Serena, who falls in love with a writer during the course of her work with him. Because she works for the M15 (equivalent to the U.S.'s CIA), there is secrecy built into the story and the character, and perhaps that is why I couldn't really relate to her or any other character in the novel. Then the ending provides a twist, a sort of "meta" surprise that also explains -- aha! -- a gap in readers' understanding of, and feeling for, Serena. Although I sometimes like surprises in fiction, I often just feel manipulated, especially by authorial games of this type. So although I more or less enjoyed this novel, and, as always, felt I was in good hands, I was left with a slightly hollow, disappointed feeling. Nevertheless, McEwan is such a good writer that he is always on my must-read list, and I am sure I will eagerly find and read his next novel when it appears.

"Toby's Room," by Pat Barker

I had been hearing about Pat Barker's novels for a while, and when I finally read "Life Class," I was very impressed. Now I have just read her newest novel, "Toby's Room" (Doubleday, 2012), and although I liked it, I felt a little let down; although it is a sequel to "Life Class," it didn't seem as strong a novel. Both novels deal with young people in London and environs during World War I; some of these young people fight in the "Great War," while all of their family and friends back home are also deeply affected by the war. The main characters in this novel are Elinor Brooke, an art student and independent young woman, and her brother Toby, who goes off to war. The two of them are very close, and when he is reported "missing, believed killed," she cannot rest until she finds out his fate and how it happened. Part of the appeal of this novel, for me, is its setting in England, during this critical time period in England's history, when life seemed to be more intense for everyone. I am also interested in stories of young women of the time who were realizing they could be more independent, and have careers and love affairs. The writing is good, the story is compelling, and the characters are well-drawn. There is romance, friendship, suspense, and more. So I am not sure why I felt let down, but there it is... By the way, I found it interesting that the publisher mentions in the inner-cover prose that "admirers of 'Downtown Abbey' will be enthralled."

"Elsewhere: A Memoir," by Richard Russo

Richard Russo has written a reflective, thoughtful, self-aware memoir ("Elsewhere," Knopf, 2012) about his long, loving, but fraught relationship with his deeply troubled mother. From his childhood she made sure the two of them were a unit, a team, with a special relationship. His father was a presence in his childhood, but not a regular or reliable one, partly because of his gambling problem, and partly because he early on decided that his wife, then ex-wife, was "nuts." The author and his mother lived with his maternal grandparents in the small upstate New York town of Gloversville for a good part of his childhood, and although Russo needed to get away from that town, he still feels formed by it. Russo always tried to be a good son, and his mother depended on him inordinately until her death in her 80s, in 2007. This often made life difficult for Russo and his own family; Russo's wife Barbara seems to have been a saint to deal with all this entailed. But the book is not an extended complaint; Russo tells the story compassionately, and gives credit to his mother for being, when she was young, a strong and independent woman, and for being the one who inspired him as a reader and a writer. He also examines himself to see if he did the right things in the way he treated her; was he an enabler? Finally, after his mother's death, Russo realizes -- spoiler alert -- that his mother probably had OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder). Although the condition was not a well-known one until fairly recently, he feels sad that he didn't realize she had a clinical mental illness. He is hard on himself, yet also philosophical. It seems to me as a reader that he (and his wife) did much more for his mother than most sons could or would have done, letting her needs and wants and psychological issues determine many parts of his and his family's life for nearly half a century (she generally moved with the family every time they moved to a new location, and although she had her own apartments, Russo would find those apartments for her, visit her almost daily,and take care of all her shopping, financial business, doctors' visits, and other needs). There is another unhappy turn of the story toward the end of the book (after the author's mother's death), but thankfully one that can be addressed and managed. For some time I have been a big fan of Russo's wonderful novels, such as "Empire Falls," "Bridge of Sighs," "Straight Man," and "That Old Cape Magic." These novels are "old-fashioned" in the sense that they are not experimental, and they have interesting, moving plots and compelling, believable characters. They often deal with working class characters and families, or characters who have come from the working class, even if they are now middle class. Aside from admiring his great gifts as a writer, I have always gotten a sense that Richard Russo is a good man; the word "decent" comes to mind. This memoir reinforces that impression. If you haven't read the Pulitzer Prize-winning Russo's novels, I strongly recommend them.

"Read This!" Say Indie Bookstores

I am generally a bit suspicious of books telling me what to read. They often strike me as gimmicky, slapped-together. But "Read This!: Handpicked Favorites from America's Indie Bookstores" (Coffee House Press, 2012), a small book edited by Hans Weyandt, had me at the word "indie"; the book immediately had credibility. I am (as I am sure you are, and as I have written about here before) a great supporter of independent bookstores. Although they are threatened by various forces, mainly electronic, and although many of them have -- sadly -- closed over the past few years, there are still many vibrant, wonderful, sometimes quirky such stores, and they are a great pleasure to visit. One of their characteristics is employing well-read, knowledgeable booksellers who are happy to help customers figure out what to read. This book expands on that concept. The editor asked booksellers at 25 independent bookstores across the U.S. to "name fifty books you love or love to pass on to other readers." The lists are the core of this book. Each "chapter" introduces the bookstore and then the bookseller at that bookstore who chose the list of 50, lists the 50 books, and then annotates a handful of those choices. The book opens with an introduction by the author Ann Patchett, and closes with some interesting facts about the lists, such as "Which book is listed most often?" (Answer: "The Things They Carried," by Tim O'Brien), and "Which author is listed most often?" (Answer: William Faulkner). Another reason to buy the book is that the proceeds go to the American Booksellers Foundation for Free Expression. I am particularly glad to see that two of my favorite local bookstores, Book Passage and City Lights, are among the bookstores providing lists. My only small regret is that only a few of the books listed are annotated, but obviously annotating them all would be a major space issue. This book is enjoyable to browse in, check which books one has already read, and get ideas for new books to read. "Read This" is a small treasure.