Book Wit

Nightingale Wood by Stella Gibbons (1938)

Nightingale Wood by Stella Gibbons

Oh, it’s so charming. I wasn’t surprised, but I was a touch relieved. I only knew Stella Gibbons from the delightful Cold Comfort Farm, which is just so much fun, and I was worried it might have been a one hit wonder. I’m talking about both the book and the film, but I love love love the film. Have you seen it? You should. Young Kate Beckinsale on a farm, with Rufus Sewell and Ian McKellen being ridiculous and hilarious in their own special ways. It’s brilliant. Anyway, Nightingale Wood proves that Gibbons’ wit is not limited to her best known novel. This tale plays with the Cinderella story, adding several Cinderellas and some rather roguish Prince Charmings to the mix. Unlike Thirkell, Gibbons isn’t sharp in her farcical descriptions of Britain’s upper crust; she recognizes the silliness inherent in stiff social conventions and takes it in stride. This makes it a more gentle humor, but none the less enjoyable.

The History of Love by Nicole Krauss (2005)

The History of Love by Nicole Krauss

If you think, as I did upon first picking up this novel, that it is only about romance, know now that that is an underestimation of its depth and poignancy. The History of Love speaks of romantic love, and tenderly, but mostly from afar and in flashbacks. It is a remembrance of love. This exploration of what occurs in the human heart when that rush of passion has not faded, per say, but more been gotten used to has some of the most beautiful passages I have ever read. It isn’t saccharine, which isn’t an easy task when there are children present in an adult novel. No one gets everything they want, either. But the ending is bittersweet solace.

Dissolution by C. J. Samson (2003)

Dissolution by C. J. Sansom

Ever since I read The Name of the Rose in high school, I’ve had a fixed interest in monastery-set mysteries. The cloistered atmosphere makes an excellent milieu for a detective story. It’s set up much like the grand estates that populate detective novels of the 1920s & 30s where everyone was up at the manor for the weekend and someone just happened to inconveniently die horribly, only at the monastery there is a chapel and it’s supposed to be more of a surprise to see drunken behavior and lasciviousness. 

Samson’s novel plays with this concept by placing his mystery square in the middle of Cromwell’s reign of terror, when monasteries were being shut down and taken over all over England for exactly that kind of inappropriate behavior (and, you know, to repossess their gold). One of Cromwell’s agents has been beheaded in the kitchen at the monastery at Scarnsea and it’s beginning to look like a papist revolution. Fortunately, Matthew Shardlake is on the case here, one of the more affecting and conflicted sleuths I’ve read recently. A humpbacked lawyer, Shardlake must both catch the murderer, rise above the tetchy politics of the era, and deal with his own wavering fealty to Cromwell. It all amounts to a tight, well-researched mystery with fulfilling characters, and the introduction to a series I wouldn’t mind dipping back into.

The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart (2007)

The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart

A good friend of mine once said to me that he often finds young adult fiction frustrating because he considers it implausible that preteens are quicker on the uptake than adults. How is it that a bunch of eleven-year-olds are able to deduce rather complex mysteries while every nearby adult remains oblivious?

For him, I will now suggest The Mysterious Benedict Society because in this adventure, there are no adults around when things get sticky (other than the wicked ones). It really is up to the children to figure out what is happening and put a stop to it, and fortunately these children are especially clever. I know this because they were put through a series of creative tests which, as the reader, were delightful to take along with them. The lively plotting and distinctive personalities have a Dahl-ish flair to them, and the earnest fears (abandonment! subliminal messaging! fear-mongering!) make the stakes feel modern and genuine. I have a few quibbles with some of the characterizations, but it’s nothing a little maturation wouldn’t cure. An attractive novel all around.

World War Z by Max Brooks (2006)

Max Brooks’s fictional oral history is a fully developed, haunting take on what would happen if our world was overrun by the living dead. Told by the men and women who made it through this zombie apocalypse, each tale relates a unique experience of survival. World War Z’s means of describing the Great Panic of a zombie epidemic and its aftermath is surprisingly broad. I appreciated its international approach, as well as its inclusion of so many sociological issues: politics, the military, commerce, religion, social stratification, family dynamics, entertainment, and philosophy are all discussed. I was expecting it to be primarily battle-focused, and though the majority of citizens faced combat situations, their recollections went far beyond battle stories. Sometimes the most affecting interviews described how people tried to rebuild their societies after the fall. The horror of World War Z is in its realism, and that is what makes it an addicting read.

The Vanishing of Katharina Linden by Helen Grant (2009)

The Vanishing of Katharina Linden by Helen Grant

Helen Grant manages to capture that elusive, deliciously creepy atmosphere so often missing in modern-day horror stories. It’s not outright terror or gore that delivers such enjoyable fright, but a slow build of suspense. The Vanishing of Katharina Linden gives you enough room to catch your breath after each scare, which means you can remember how much fun it is to be spooked.

Set in the little town of Bad Münstereifel, the novel magically blends together old Germanic folk stories with the recent disappearances of several young girls. 10-year-old Pia, infamous around town since her grandmother exploded last December, is determined to figure out who or what has been taking her classmates. Unable to determine what her parents mean when they say, “tell us if you see anything weird,” Pia comes to rely on a respectable elderly man’s encyclopedic knowledge of local legends. Since physical clues are scarce, what else could it be but some sort of ancient bogeyman? The mystery turned out far more sinister than I expected, but the beautiful, scene-stealing folk tales and gutsy heroine made it a thoroughly unique read.

City of Silver by Annamaria Alfieri (2009)

City of Silver by Annamaria Alfieri

Alfieri’s dynamic debut thriller transports the reader to what I now recognize as a woefully underused setting: 17th century Peru. High in the mountains perches Potosí, a mining city that could nearly claim total responsibility for Spain’s extraordinary wealth during that time. But such fortune is not without a greater price (naturally), and here it breeds malignancy, desperation, and great abuses of power. Add to that the terror of the Spanish Inquisition and you can see why I’m shocked this city hasn’t appeared on my nightstand before. 

The author’s grasp of the city and time period is as sure as her ability to construct a complex whodunit. The characters spill from the page in full color, the debauched and the pious side-by-side in their determination to settle the death of the young Inez, daughter of the richest and most powerful citizen in Potosí. When she is found dead, locked in her cell at the convent she sought sanctuary in, a line is immediately drawn down the city: suicide or murder? Abbess Maria Santa Hilda refuses to believe the former, and buries Inez on sacred ground. The ensuing uproar and threats of heresy only solidify the Abbess’s resolve to puzzle out the situation, but with Inquisitors drawing nearer, her time is quickly running out. 

Side note: can I just say how impressed I am with the publisher Felony & Mayhem? Every single mystery I have come across of theirs is well written, well researched, and an absolute pleasure to read. It’s gotten so that when I go to the bookstore, I just cruise the spines looking for their logo (it’s a red square with “F&M” written in Art Deco font). Their tagline, “life is too short to read bad books,” is obviously more than just a cheeky marketing ploy. If you are an ardent mystery reader, I can’t recommend their titles highly enough. 

 
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