Two Mysteries: "One by One," by Ruth Ware, and "The Mystery of Mrs. Christie," by Marie Benedict

Regular readers of this blog may remember that I have had a lifelong on-again, off-again relationship with mystery novels. Some of my favorites as a young girl were the Nancy Drew books, and later most of Agatha Christie’s work, leading into the mysteries of Dorothy Sayers, Ngaio Marsh, and other British and Commonwealth authors. Still later I devoured the books of several California women authors that featured California women detectives, such as Marcia Muller’s Sharon McCone and Sue Grafton’s Kinsey Millhone. Other favorite mystery writers over the years included Anne Perry, P.D. James, Elizabeth George, Jacqueline Winspear, Deborah Crombie, and so many more. I have read probably hundreds of mysteries over the years. But I have also had several long periods of being tired of mysteries and not reading them. After one such period, I recently picked up a couple. Unfortunately, neither was very satisfying. The first, “One by One” (Scout Press/Simon and Schuster, 2020), was my first book by the popular Ruth Ware. It plays on the theme and plot of Agatha Christie’s famous book “And Then There Were None,” and is expertly plotted. It takes place in an isolated ski resort in the French Alps, where the leadership of an English tech firm gathers. As a storm and avalanche shut them in, the tensions among the techies play out in deadly ways. It kept my attention, but there is something empty about the story and book, at least for me. In an unplanned connection, the other book in this genre that I read almost immediately after the first was Marie Benedict’s “The Mystery of Mrs. Christie” (Sourcebooks, 2021). This novel is an imagined version of a true story: Agatha Christie’s never-explained eleven-day disappearance. The author treats the absence as a mystery to be solved, and gradually gives readers background information that eventually leads to a somewhat satisfying if a little too cerebral resolution. The strong point of the book is its thoughtful insights into the characters’ motivations and emotions. But although I enjoyed this book much more than the first one, it didn’t make me want to start reading more mysteries again. Maybe in a couple of years…following my lifelong pattern…who knows when the yen for mysteries will reappear…

Happy 125th Birthday, New York Times Book Review

The New York Times Book Review (NYTBR) is 125 years old this year. I have been reading it for decades, and it is an absolute essential in my life. Sadly, I don’t have time to read the paper version of the New York Times, although I do subscribe online and skim it, but I was excited, many years ago, to discover that one could subscribe separately to the NYTBR and have it delivered by mail. I read book reviews and stories about books and authors elsewhere as well: in the San Francisco Chronicle and the Washington Post; in magazines such as the Atlantic, the New Yorker, Vanity Fair, Ms., the Nation, the Progressive, and Mother Jones; and on various online sites. (I used to subscribe to the New York Review of Books, but at a certain point I grew tired of it. I have occasionally subscribed for a year or two to the London Review of Books, the Threepenny Review, and other such publications, and enjoyed them but not enough to continue subscribing.) But the most focused, consistent source of reviews is the NYTBR. It comes weekly, and it is full of reviews as well as interesting features (e.g., “By the Book,” with its interviews of authors and others) that give booklovers an inside glimpse into the world of books and authors. When I receive my latest copy, and notice that it reviews a book by one of my favorite writers, or on a topic of interest to me, I get excited. Yes, I am a book nerd. But you knew that already. Naturally, like any periodical, the NYTBR has not gotten everything right. In a recent (2/26/21) NYT article, critic Parul Sehgal explores the archives, and finds numerous examples of racial and gender imbalance, stereotypes, and worse, especially far in the past, but even recently. For example, a survey of 2011 reviews showed that 90% of the 750 books reviewed were by White authors. Throughout the years, books by Black authors were often judged by different standards than those by White authors. Books by female authors were reviewed with condescension and double standards. There is also a history of negative reviews of books by queer authors, and/or with queer characters. These disparities and prejudices make me angry and upset. I can only take solace in the fact that more and more attention has been drawn to the disparities, not only at the NYTBR, but by publications and authors elsewhere, including in academe, and that awareness has led to change…still not enough, but tangible and increasing change that I have observed in my lifetime (and I have been observing closely and with strong feelings!). Despite everything, I treasure the NYTBR, and am grateful for all I have learned from it, and for all the enjoyment it has given me. Here’s to many many more years of reviews, features, and the ever-more-inclusive celebration of the world of books.

From "At the Edge of the Haight" to "Running the Tides" at San Francisco's Sea Cliff

As regular readers know, I live in San Francisco (well, just north of the Golden Gate Bridge), and work there (except during these pandemic times, during which I work from home). I love the city and the Bay Area. I am always happy to read novels set in San Francisco. Very recently, without planning it, I found myself reading two new novels set there. Both are about girls/young women living in San Francisco, but their lives are very different. The main character in “At the Edge of the Haight” (Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 2021), by Katherine Seligman, is 20-year-old Maddy, who is homeless, estranged from her family, and lives mostly in Golden Gate Park. The novel portrays her life, and those of her young companions, in a (seemingly, at least) realistic way that such lives are seldom portrayed. Although one worries about Maddy, she is strong and admirable in many ways. The story contains a mystery - a death to which Maddy is a witness - and is compelling. The other novel, which I read immediately after the first one, is “We Run the Tides” (Ecco, 2021), by Vendela Vida, who is active in San Francisco literary circles. Her young heroine, Eulabee, aged 13, lives in the affluent Sea Cliff neighborhood of San Francisco, overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge and the ocean. Although from a middle class family, less affluent than many of their neighbors, she attends an elite private girl’s school, a barely disguised version of an actual school in that area. She and her friends are privileged. But, as with Maddy, there are undercurrents, problems, and frightening situations in their lives. Both novels deal with young women’s lives, families, friendships, entanglements, insecurities, and fears. Both girls/young women are strong. Eulabee’s life is certainly not as hard as Maddy’s, and she is fortunate not only in her schooling and friends but also in her close family. But in some ways the similarities, especially their vulnerabilities as young females, jump out at the reader as much as the differences. Both novels and, especially, their settings felt very familiar to me in some ways. The setting of the first one, in the Haight and the East (grubbier) end of Golden Gate Park, is only a few blocks from the university where I teach. The setting of the other novel is also familiar to me from when I lived in an adjacent (middle-class) San Francisco neighborhood, many years ago, before I moved north of the Bridge. The school that Eulabee attended is known as the rival of the other best-known all-girls private school in the city, the one that my daughter attended. Both writers allude to well-known areas and personalities (e.g., Danny Glover, the late Robin Williams) in the city. But I admire both books not just because of their familiar San Francisco settings, but mainly because each is well-written, and “gets” the lives of young women, no matter their socioeconomic status.

RIP Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Many of us thought, with a kind of magical thinking, that Lawrence Ferlinghetti would always be with us. But the wonderful Beat poet, publisher, free speech advocate, bookstore proprietor, and longterm resident of San Francisco’s legendary North Beach, died February 22, 2021, at the age of 101. He is famous not only for his own poetry, but for such highlights as publishing Allen Ginsburg’s incendiary “Howl and Other Poems” in 1956, for which action Ferlinghetti was tried for obscenity but fortunately won the case due to a judge’s saying the poem had “redeeming social significance.” Ferlinghetti was enormously supportive to fellow poets. Perhaps his most powerful and lasting legacy is the City Lights Bookstore, opened in 1953 and still drawing visitors (pilgrims, in a sense) from all over the world. The bookstore was and is a center for literature and political activism. He received many honors over the years, including being chosen as San Francisco’s first Poet Laureate, and having the alley behind City Lights named for him. He will be honored and missed by those around the world who love poetry. His poetry collection, “A Coney Island of the Mind,” is still the most popular poetry book in the United States, with more than one million copies in print. He will always have a particular place in the heart of San Franciscans. To honor him upon his death, San Francisco Mayor London Breed spoke of “the immense power of his work” and of “his commitment to this city and its people,” and ordered the flag at City Hall to be flown at half mast. Countless people have been influenced by Ferlinghetti. I remember that when I moved to San Francisco as a young adult, decades ago, one of the first places I wanted to visit and pay tribute to was City Lights Bookstore. I was in awe of the place, with its vast variety of literary and political works, and its welcoming atmosphere. Thank you, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, for all you did and all you meant to so many people for so long. (My thanks to the San Francisco Chronicle for the information provided in its several articles about Ferlinghetti’s life and death.)