Robert J. Wiersema's latest novel, Bedtime Story, is a story within a story within a story. After novelist Christopher Knox begins reading a lost fantasy book by one of his favourite childhood authors to his eleven year old son David, the boy suffers a seizure and enters into a trance-like state. Like Wiersema's first release, Before I Wake, the author writes about the lives of an unresponsive child (his first protagonist is in a coma due to a hit-and-run accident) and the unknown world where lost souls dwell.

Christopher, despite opposition from his estranged wife, deduces it is the story of the book itself, To The Four Directions by Laurence Took, which has caused David's condition; Chris attempts to battle the magic embedded in the book. Bedtime Story intertwines Christopher's mission, the fantasy novel itself, and David's story while trapped in the novel, where he meets other lost readers. They layering of stories builds up into a climax worthy of classic fantasy and horror novels!

Despite its depressing and gloomy plot, I completely understand the accolades and award nominations (and wins!) for Emma Donoghue's latest novel, the thoroughly gripping Room.

This dark story, similar to real life ones heard recently in the news, is told from the perspective of six year old Jack, who lives in Room,and only in Room, with his mother. Occasionally, there are visited by Old Nick, who abducted Jack's mother several years ago. Other than that, Jack has not had contact with the outside world. Television shows him stories and the news, but he cannot fathom the reality behind them, that there is a huge world outside this eleven-by-eleven foot enclosure. His only friends are the inanimate items he sees on a daily basis; Plant, Wardrobe, Snake (made from empty eggshells)... While trying her best to survive in this stunted environment, and keep Jack as healthy as possible, his mother is also working on a plan of escape.

As well as a compelling read, Room is an eye-opener; Donoghue touches on so many simple things that we on the 'outside world' can take for granted. Jack has never seen the sun, felt the air, run in a straight line rather than the circles around Rug. His mother, limited in basic needs by Old Nick, must prioritise what foods and essentials she asks for, thus depriving Jack of toys, sufficient clothing, and, perhaps most shattering, only five books (shudder).

Room is a novel that not only thrills, it had an underlying message for me that, with love and strong emotional support, you can survive. Sure, Jack and his mother did not enter this situation willingly, but it speaks that material things, to achieve bigger and better, means nothing without someone who can get you through the worst. Throughout the novel, Jack, as narrator, provided an innocent perspective, one without hate, or envy, or regret, which gives a hopeful twist to this terrible tale.

Since I first saw a reproduction of Dante Gabriel Rossetti's Annunciation in my teens, I was besotted with the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. So, when the DVD Desperate Romantics, a BBC production of the PBR's lives and loves, made its way into our collection, I was intrigued.

I admit, I was hesitant once starting it. This was not what I expected. This was no documentary of intellectual, talented gentlemen. Although set in mid-19th century England, Desperate Romanticshas a very modern feeling about it, from the artists walking abreast down the street, almost strutting in their high-fashioned, Bohemian influenced wardrobe, the music-video inspired camera angles, to the 20th century influence in the soundtrack, this is an historical tale told with a contemporary twist.

The story centres around the three founders of the PBR, Rossetti, William Holman Hunt, and John Everett Millais, the youngest painter ever accepted by The Royal Academy. "The Boys," as they are often called in this production, are three very disparate personalities: Millais, the prodigy, is timid, proper, somewhat frightened of authority, but the most virtuous. Hunt is intense, earnest, and, frankly, annoying. And Rossetti is passionate, flirtatious, immoral, at first charming, but later, also annoying. And infuriating. Not that this is bad; it makes great viewing.

The story opens with Fred Walters, a fictional character who is a conglomeration of several PBR friends and associates, running madly to find The Boys after he has laid eyes on the exquisite Elizabeth Siddal, a hat-shop girl who fits the criteria of what the PBR is looking for in a model. Lizzie is wanted by all three artists (in multiple ways Rossetti), but it is while she is sitting (or soaking) for Millais as Ophelia, she is taken with an illness and nearly dies. Hunt finds a new model in the "grubby" Annie Miller, here portrayed as a prostitute. Annie is a character who, despite her low-bred birth and upbringing, is smart, cunning, honest in a way Hunt cannot be, and utterly charming and delightful. Millais, meanwhile, is commissioned by the highly influential art critic John Ruskin to paint his wife, Effie. The sordid (or not so sordid) details of their five year marriage come to light, in which Millais finds himself entwined, so to speak.

One of the reasons I love the works of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood is the purity of the subjects, true love, sacrifice, spirituality; you wouldn't think these were subjects that came easily to this lot. Hunt and especially Rossetti are portrayed as lustful, raunchy, and appalling in their behaviours with women, but then would be tender, poetic and seemingly genuine in their feelings for the women they scorned. This dichotomy of spirit, portrayed by wonderful young actors, makes for a wonderful, escapist six hours.

Bloody entertaining

I always find it makes a book more interesting to read it at the same time of year that the story is set. So, when British author S.J. Bolton's latest thriller, Blood Harvest, came into our collection, it struck me that it takes place in a small English town in autumn, particularly around Halloween, and I grabbed it.

Blood Harvest is set in Heptonclough, a farming community which continues to hold onto its ancient and medieval traditions, specifically the local fall animal slaughter. This is when Harry Laycock, the new vicar, arrives and opens the old church, closed for almost ten years. Harry hears strange noises coming from the church, and witnesses some terrifying occurrences. Concurrently, the Fletcher family, also new to the area, has moved into their recently built house on the border of the graveyard. The three children, ten year old Tom, five year old Joe and toddler Millie are all aware of an unusual figure who moves stealthily through the graveyard, a figure with a penchant for imitating others' voices and giving Tom the willies by constantly watching him. Can this mysterious figure somehow be involved with the rash of deaths and disappearances of young girls in the last ten years? Are the disappearances one of the ongoing rituals of the community? And how does the abduction of one of the Fletcher children tie in with what's happening?

This is a spine-tingling, suspenseful novel that gripped me with its assortment of both intelligent and odd characters, chilling settings, and terrifying moments. It's a book I recommend you read with the blinds closed.

A worthy witchy read

Alys is a young woman in 16th century England who is at the centre of Philippa Gregory's The Wise Woman. The story opens with Alys awakening in the abbey where she has been living in comfort since her childhood. When the abbey becomes the nocturnal target of arson by supporters of Henry VIII, Alys flees back to Morach, the wise woman who helped raise her. Because of her training with Morach, Alys is called to the castle of the elderly Lord Hugh, who has been ill and presumed dying by his physicians. When Alys heals him, he insists she stay as one of the ladies to his daughter-in-law, Catherine. While in residence, Alys begins an affair with Catherine's husband, the young Hugh, which starts a tale of obsession, magic, and betrayal.

Actually, lots of betrayal. Alys is a master at it. She is quick to alter her allegiances if it means comfort, warmth, food and attention. She first betrays Morach, who gave her a home. Okay, a hovel, but she was fed by Morach, and taught herb-lore and midwifery, which helped Alys get to Lord Hugh. She quickly left Morach for the abbey, and Mother Hildebrande, for whom Alys appeared to have a deep and genuine love, but who she left to burn in her bed in order to quicken her own escape. She then betrays Morach again when she lets her take the blame for certain events that happen to Lady Catherine, who, after years of barrenness, finally appears pregnant, with Alys's help. She waffles with her affection for the young Hugh, sometimes believing herself in love with him, sometimes that she is using him for her own advancements. And when she has a chance to redeem herself regarding her faith and her abbey, she turns away from that too.

Alys is one of the most conniving, hideous and morally deprived characters I have ever come across in literature. She definitely earns the book's title, as her wisdom comes in two forms: herb-wisdom and the knowledge to think quickly on her feet to save her own skin. There were times I had pity for her; I'm not sure I wouldn't try to do the same things (well, not all of the same things) if I were filthy and cold and had had a taste of the good life. But deep down, I was revolted by Alys and her actions. Does this make for a bad book? No. And, when she has a chance to clean her conscience, I was interested in how Gregory would end the book. Was it an ending I found satisfying? I know my opinion, but try it out for yourself.

I often re-read my old favourite books, but it's never happened that I was ready to re-read a book I had just finished, until I read Kate Morton's The Forgotten Garden. The book is an intriguing and fascinating interweaving of several voices, several experiences, and several generations.

It opens with Nell, a four year old girl left on a boat bound for Australia by a beautiful young woman she know only as "The Authoress." Nell is told to hide and not come out until The Authoress returns for her. After several hours, the ship sets sail and Nell is still alone. Adopted by an at the time childless couple, Nell is told at her twenty first birthday party that she is not who she thinks she is. It is a statement that dramatically alters her personality and her life.

Seventy years later, Nell's granddaughter, Cassandra, takes up the search for Nell's biological family. Using her grandmother's diaries, and an old illustrated book of fairy tales by the mysterious Eliza Makepeace, Cassandra travels to England and the cottage she has inherited from Nell.

Interspersed between Nell's and Cassandra's stories are that of Eliza, her meager childhood which served for the basis of her vivid imagination, and subsequent move to an estate by the ocean. There, she is subject to her unloving and judgmental aunt, her unusual and disturbing uncle, and her frail cousin Rose. Despite her strict new upbringing, Eliza is too much of a free spirit to be hampered by her new living arrangement.

The storyline of The Forgotten Garden is itself like a fairytale, and its characters can follow the traditional 'good versus evil,' 'beauty versus ugliness' plots, but Morton offers enough insight their lives to keep them from becoming caricatures. And yes, sometimes I found the coincidences of chance meetings between characters a little too convenient, but because of the book's fae elements, they didn't bother me; I just accepted that unseen beings hiding in the forgotten garden were at play.

A group of friends are gathered for a relaxing afternoon barbeque at the suburban home of Hektor and Aisha. At some point, one of the guests slaps the young child of another couple. The party quickly ends, but the repercussions of that action continue into the near future in the aptly named The Slap by Australian author Christos Tsiolkas. Although the party is attended by an extensive group of people (almost too extensive to introduce in the opening pages), Tsiolkas narrows the personal stories to eight characters, some directly involved in the incident, and some only secondarily affected.

I found The Slap to be a gripping, compelling book, although I can't say I like the writer's crudeness (some parts I found uncomfortably so, particularly when he was speaking for the female characters). I also found the characters' personal morals almost non-existent; while many wear the sheen of being good, going beneath the surface reveals that they are far from it. I think I would have liked the book better if the characters' storylines had been intertwined rather than told in blocks of chapters.

What I did like was the result in their personal lives of this one quick act: everyone has an opinion about it. Some couples are able to support each other, some are violently opposed in opinion. Some are able to forgive and move on; others are mired in bitterness and revenge. Some agree that the child required discipline which his parents were not providing; others feel that an adult hitting a child is unjustified in all circumstances.

It was also interesting to find where my sympathies were directed in regards to the incident. In that respect, the book was an eye-opener. In other respects, it's a good, quick read with a meatier topic than my usual summer choices.

Delicious Fromage!

When I pulled it out of the box of newly delivered DVDs, I had never heard of the 2008 BBC series Bonekickers. From the writers of Life on Mars, Bonekickers, set at the fictional Wessex University, is a little bit Kathy Reichs, a little bit Indiana Jones, and a little bit Dan Brown.

Dr. Gillian Magwilde is the spitfire team leader who is afraid of nothing: risking poisonous gases, deep wells, and dark tunnels, she breaks the rules to get her answers. Her cockiness is balanced by the down-to-earth Ben Ergha, who challenges Gillian's quests for stupendous results and attempts to keep her focused and out of danger. Gregory Parton is a loquacious walking encyclopedia with a taste for women and spirits. Their team has newly added Vivian, a young intern who is the target for Gregory's attentions and Gillian's wrath, who has a quest of her own.

The episodes deal with disparate periods of history and characters: the Knights Templar, U.S. slaves, the Roman occupation of Britain, ancient Iraq, Joan of Arc and King Arthur, yet all the stories feature a common thread, an artifact that Gillian's mother spent her life looking for, and which led to her mental demise. The acting is excellent, and the plot lines intriguing. Unfortunately, the script, along with the editing, are bordering on dreadful. Does this make for a bad show? I will argue that it is quite the contrary.

While there are aspects of the show I didn't like (the shaky camera and unusual filming angles, the egotistical attitudes of some of the characters in their introductory scenes, the inconsistencies in Gillian's point of view from the importance non-traditional thinking in one episode to rejecting the same sentiment in Ben's theories in another, some totally cheesy lines and outlandish, convoluted storylines), curiously, as a whole, I liked it. While I prefer a slower character development, once I got over the initial shock of being thrown right into the series, I enjoyed the historic backgrounds of the show, the 'flashbacks,' and the settings. I was interested in the personal dynamics between the characters, and I even laughed at some of those cheesy lines, such as Gregory yelling at a gang of murderous thugs "Don't mess with me; I'm an archaeologist!"

Due to low ratings, the show only lasted the one season, about which I feel rather disappointed. While I felt Bonekickers took itself a bit too seriously sometimes, it was a good ride. I would have delighted in seeing them tackle and solve more long-standing archaeological mysteries, take on more baddies, and deliver, with a straight face, lines like "Right, bras off" (you'll just have to watch to find out).

Goodman = good writer!

I've written about Carol Goodman before. Perhaps it's obvious that I am a major fan of hers. I have become even more of one with her latest release, Arcadia Falls.

After setting her last two suspense novels in Europe, Goodman has returned to the northeast United States. Like The Seduction of Water and The Lake of Dead Languages, Arcadia Falls takes place in a boarding school, with a teacher finding her place in the world after tragedy strikes her life. Meg Rosenthal, a young widow, moves from the Southern U.S. with her teenage daughter, Sally, to teach folklore and english at Arcadia Falls, a former artists' colony. During an end of summer ritual, a student, Isabel, plunges to her death. Meg discovers how this parallels the death of a young woman artist several decades earlier, and the connection to Isabel's death. Meg embarks on a mystery of how the dean, Ivy St. Clare, ties into the two stories.

Filled with descriptions of dark, gloomy woods, eerie old houses, creepy fairy tales and eccentric characters, Arcadia Falls is a suspenseful romp that will keep readers up during the night. Just make sure you close the blinds and don't peek out the window!

House Rules rules

Virtually every spring, I can rely on several things: trees will bud, flowers will sprout, days will get longer and warmer, and a new Jodi Picoult novel will be released. I welcome them all.

Picoult's latest is House Rules, the story of single mum Emma Hunt raising two teenage sons. Jacob, the eldest, has Asperger's Syndrome, and an obsession with forensic science and crime scenes, while Theo has to try to survive and thrive in his older brother's shadow and always be second for Emma's attention. Disaster strikes when the death of someone close to the family lands Jacob under arrest for murder.

After over a dozen books, Picoult has developped a somewhat predictable format for her books: a woman, generally single, or with a second husband/boyfriend, has teen or pre-teen child(ren). One child has an often life threatening disease, and his/her siblings end up being marginalised, insecure, and often envious of the ill child. Throw in a father figure who, according to mum, does not and cannot fully understand and commit to the situation, and climax it all with a court scene dealing somehow with the situation. It's a formula that, with snappy dialogue, some sympathetic characters, some you want to punch in the face (figuratively, of course), and medical information on the affliction-in-question for the beginner, manages to continue to satisfy this reader.

And even more satisfying was the conclusion of House Rules. Not to give anything away, but it has a pleasing difference from many of Picoult's other books. Read it to find out.

Who needs a yacht?

Morgan Llywelyn is an author with whom I have never been disappointed. Her weaving of fact and fiction is so well done and intriguing that for the last twenty years I always anticipate her upcoming releases. When I discovered she was writing about St. Brendan the Navigator, I was doubly excited, as it is a story which has always fascinated me. Brendan was the 6th century Irish monk who, rather than choose serene and isolated contemplation like most of his colleagues, traveled to the ends of the earth. Using the ninth century document Voyage of St Brendan the Navigator, Llywelyn retells the story of the monk who, in his quest to find the The Islands of the Blessed, the eternal paradise, ends up crossing the Atlantic Ocean.

Brendan tells the story of the monk from his early days, living in a quiet community, learning under the instruction of Ita, a gentle, patient nun. As his body and wisdom mature, he comes under the tutelage of Erc, a powerful Bishop and former Druid. In Brendan, Erc sees someone with great potential and leadership qualities, but is often frustrated by the younger man's questioning mind and adventurous spirit.

The novel shifts between time periods, a device which adds a dreamy quality to the novel. We read of Brendan's childhood, youth, adulthood (where he accomplished most of his adventures), through to his old age, where he records his memories in his journal. It is in the writing of the journal that Brendan recalls his greatest adventure of traveling with several other monks in a small boat called a curragh, where they see living islands, volcanoes, icebergs, all sorts of unusual people, as well as tragedy. It is speculated that Brendan was the first European to reach the shores of North America, a scene Llywelen describes beautifully in the final scenes.

Although Brendan is written about a Christian saint, it is not an overtly religious book. Brendan lived at a time when the Celtic church varied greatly from its Roman counterparts. Christianity was interwoven with pagan beliefs, marriages between church leaders was normal and encouraged, and even Brendan feels romantic love. It is more a story of a restless spirit, who happens to be a monk, the daring escapades he faced, and his relationship with his god which can only grow given the wondrous things he sees and experiences.

Worth the wait?

I remember several incidents when a new title in Stephen King's Dark Tower series would be released where library patrons would amiable complain that King needed to write the next book faster, as they were impatiently waiting for more! I would question them on whether they thought it would be worth it; perhaps the books were so compelling and left you wanting more because the author took his time writing them. If they were whipped off quicker, would it be as satisfactory?

Several times I've found myself in the same position with my favourite authors, thinking 'come on already, it's been two years! You must have SOMETHING to release!!!' With mystery author Erin Hart, I've been biding my patience for six, yes six, years for her next entry in the Cormac Maguire/Nora Gavin series. The first two titles, Haunted Ground and Lake of Sorrows, focused on Nora's fleeing to Ireland after her sister Triona's murder, seemingly committed by Triona's husband Peter. There, Nora stumbles upon two local mysteries, which she and Cormac help to solve. Hart's new release, False Mermaid finds Nora returning to the U.S. to finally confront her demons, namely, Peter.

The plot focuses on Nora's investigation in the States, where she discovers Peter is engaged to the younger sister of Nora's ex-fiance. She fears that Peter will do to Miranda what he did to Triona: slip her drugs which make her black out, make her suspicious of her own family, manipulate her into otherwise uncharacteristic actions. Nora also worries on how to approach her young niece, Elizabeth, who is unaware of the details of her mother's death,and must adjust to her new step-mother.

The storyline shifts to Co. Donegal, Ireland, where Cormac is trying to bond with his ailing father. There he finds one of his colleagues, a folklorist interested in the history of a missing local woman from the 19th century believed to be a selkie, living with Joseph Maguire in his isolated homestead. The story of the selkie plays a pivotal role in False Mermaid, as Elizabeth, like her mother in her youth, is also intrigued in this 'fairy tale.' So, like Hart's first two mysteries, False Mermaid ties in a current crime investigation with an older one, while examining rituals, traditions, and superstitions of a past people.

So, is False Mermaid worth a six year wait? Uhm, somewhat yes, somewhat no. It's a great book, and very gripping. The tiny details, the intriguing primary and secondary characters, the family relationships, the myth of the selkie tying in with the role of the modern day woman and her freedom and identity, the fast paced storyline, are all fascinating. As a stand alone book, it's excellent; but as part of a series I really enjoy combined with a six year wait, it's a bit of a disappointment. I think this largely stems from the fact that I prefer the Irish setting of the first two books, and the prehistoric subplot, albeit I enjoyed the selkie storyline most in this book. Perhaps if the book had been released in a more timely manner, or Erin Hart was a new author to me and I read the three books in quick succession, then my anticipation would not have reached the almost unbearable stage, and my expectations may have been better satisfied.

That said, however, nothing could have prepared me for the somewhat, I felt, rushed ending, which truly had me scratching my head in confusion regarding certain elements, but also leaving me feeling dread at its sense of finality! I want more! And hopefully before 2016!

A swift, fulfilling read

Being a teenager is a potentially trying time for almost anyone. For Shell Talent, the focus of Siobhan Dowd's A Swift, Pure Cry, it's even more difficult, given she is still mourning the loss of her vivacious, beautiful mother a year earlier. Her father is caught in a deep depression, volunteering to raise money for the church, while drinking away a portion of it, and it's left to Shell to help raise her two younger siblings. Add to that that it is 1984 in an Ireland still under the strong hold of the Catholic Church and its strict rules.

Shell has a small circle of 'friends' to help her through things: Bridie is her best friend and schoolmate, until the charismatic Declan destroys their relationship; when he departs for New York, Father Rose, a young curate at Shell's local church, becomes her closest friend. But rumours are being spread about Shell's relationship with Father Rose, and when people of the village notice, despite Shell's best efforts to camouflage it, her pregnancy, suspicion grows.

While A Swift, Pure Cry is aimed at a young adult audience, which may account for the melodramatic plot twist at the end of the book, the characters are real and well-rounded. Shell is a quiet, well-behaved young woman who manages to stay strong and true to herself despite the tragic circumstances of her life. She sacrifices her youth largely for that of her brother and sister, thrust into the role of mother well before facing the truth that she will become an actual one soon. She is loyal to Bridie, who turns her back on Shell seemingly due to jealousy, to Declan's memory, despite his leaving her in a difficult position, and to her father, who, in effect, has destroyed his family's life with his inability to deal with being a widower. She bravely faces the town gossip regarding her and Father Rose and their friendship, and also a circumstance which leads to the plot twist in the latter part of the book which truly adds upheaval to her life.

Sadly, Siobhan Dowd's personal story adds a greater sense of tragedy to the story. The author died of breast cancer in 2007, when her career as a young adult author was blossoming. It makes reading her existing writings more poignant for what the reading audience has lost.

Just who are the animals here?

For years, I'd been hearing from people how excellent the novel Water for Elephants by Sarah Gruen is. And, for years, the idea of reading the book totally put me off. Why? Because the setting of the book is one I personally abhor: a travelling circus. However, I had no real choice in the matter when one of the members of our library book club chose it for our selection for March. And I loved it.

The book is from the point of view of Jacob Jankowski, now in a nursing home, looking back seventy years to the Great Depression, when he was a budding veterinarian. On the verge of taking his final exams and graduating, Jacob's parents are killed in an automobile accident. He discovers that his father, also a veterinarian, would rather treat another person's ill animals and be paid in beans and corn than let the animal suffer. Thus Jacob, an only child, is left alone, homeless and destitute, and, while dazed and stupefied as a result of recent events, runs off and hops aboard a passing train.

There, he meets and becomes part of a dysfunctional 'family' of circus folk. The definition of family in this context is that of loyalty, among some, but also jealousy, favouritism, and hatred. Uncle Al, the owner, and August, the animal trainer, are two incredibly repulsive, abusive, and opportunistic men. Neither people and animals are immune from their anger and manipulations, including Marlena, August's wife, and Rosie, the elephant which Uncle Al acquires at the expense of his workers, both of whom are subject to August's outbursts of violence, then treated like queens when they 'behave.' The prologue of the book hints at August's fate, and I found myself compelled to get read quickly so I could have the satisfaction of the culmination of the scene.

And when I got there, it was even better than I had originally anticipated!

A promising first novel

In 1920s New Orleans, Raziela Nolan is young, rich, beautiful, and vivacious, as well as independant, educated, and prone to slipping pamphlets on birth control in books at the public library. She is torn between accepting an engagement to her boyfriend Andrew or starting her education to become a doctor, until fate denies her a decision when she slips and hits her head at Andrew's pool and drowns. Thus starts her journey into the afterlife, making friends with others who are as yet unwilling or unable to pass into 'heaven,' in Ronlyn Domingue's The Mercy of Thin Air.

Eighty years later, Amy and Scott buy Andrew's old bookcase (which he had given to the son of Emmaline, his parents' former maid) at an estate sale. Razi's attachment to the bookcase causes her to follow the young married couple; she discovers that Amy is granddaughter to the recently deceased Sunny, who was the younger sister of Twolly, Razi's best friend in life. After her grandmother's death, Amy is distraught with her Grandpa Fin for destroying Sunny's photos and many sentimental belongings, and then who dies before she can forgive him. This act of destruction causes Amy to gather and compile to disc the family's remaining family photos, with the help of Great Aunt Twolly, now in her eighties, but at the expense of her relationship with Scott. As Razi continues to shadow Amy, while reminiscing about her own life, she observes parallels in Amy and Scott's lives to hers and Andrew's.

In some ways, The Mercy of Thin Air resembles Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones. Both are first person narratives of the deceased character, both young women denied a long life, both full of regret for what is lost. The book also serves as a lesson to live life to the fullest, as Nel, one of Razi's friends in the afterlife, states after 'teaching' himself the cello in his spirit form: "that's what I wanted... I did the wrong thing... what I thought I should do, not what I wanted. And I can't take it back," a statement which causes Razi to look back to her own decision regarding her life with Andrew. The two titles also touch on how the living mourn the dead differently, and how some people cope and some cannot. And on how love continues, despite the pain. As Emmaline sagely notes, "that's how you know you love someone with all your heart, when the world get (sic) so cold without them."

May we all learn these lessons ourselves.

Keyes' Brightest?

Marian Keyes has been one of my favorite authors since one of her early books, Last Chance Saloon, caught my attention over a decade ago. Its plot consists of Tara, Fintan and Katherine, friends since the days of "legwarmers, pink stretch jeans and Duran Duran." Sure, it, like most of Keyes' novels, had it's serious moments, like dead-end relationships, broken hearts, characters' negative self esteem in regards to their bodies, drug addiction, and later on physical abuse, and tragic death, but it also had lots of laugh out loud funny scenes, witty and a bit over the top, that tended to overshadow the 'tragedy' of everyday life.

In her latest release, The Brightest Star in the Sky, Keyes' introduces an unseen, unnamed, 'magical' character who is able to infiltrate the daily lives of the numerous residents of 66 Star Street, Dublin, a la her fellow Irish author, Cecelia Ahern. Almost a dozen main characters and even more secondary ones flit through the narrative. My personal favorite, although I am reluctant to admit it, is the tiny but tough (okay, bitchy) Lydia, who mysteriously moves from a comfortable flat with her best friend into a cramped apartment with two Polish male students who cringe in fear from her. There is also Katie, a 40 year old 'babysitter' to artistes, who is on the rebound from her workaholic boyfriend Conall with the young and sexy Fionn; Matt and Maeve, a young couple whose early married life was horrifically marred seemingly beyond repair, and Jemima, Fionn's foster mother, a holder of great wisdom surrounded by despair and confusion, round out the residents.

While I did enjoy The Brightest Star in the Sky, and how the characters' lives would intertwine, I did however find that there was a bit too much going on, a few too many characters, to have this book replace Keyes' others as my favorites. And the magical element didn't quite do it for me. Now, to qualify my statement, I'm not saying this is a bad book: Keyes' style has grown to be more than light-hearted 'chick-lit,' her characters more developed, her situations less wacky. It is, in my opinion a good book, but lacks the levity of her previous writings. If you are considering embarking on a relationship with Keyes, I strongly recommend her earlier titles if you're looking for laughs, then grow with her into her later fiction.

Knowledge is but a clicker box away

Ah, winter. Darkness, warm clothes and cuddly blanket, hot chocolate. All things that make me feel cozy, and physically lazy (especially after a few hours of cross country skiing or walks in the snow). Ironically, it is the time I feel most intellectually stimulated, and I seek out non-fiction as much as 'deep' fiction.

However, when life deems that reading time is allotted but in small chunks, non-fiction, full of dates, facts and figures, is not the optimum choice. What's a reader to do?

Turn on the TV!

I don't do it often, but now and then I rise early in the morning, taking my cuddly paraphernalia in the basement where my TV is, and indulge in some great documentaries. I just finished discs 1-4 of the BBC's The Private Life of a Masterpiece. They contain thirteen 'biographies' of some of history's most celebrated works of art. Starting with magnificent La Primavera by Sandro Botticelli, the series examines works from Italian Renaissance, Dutch and Spanish Baroque, and early Romanticism, a classic Japanese print, and ending with the birth of modern art.

Despite having studied art history pretty much all my adult life, I have yet to see most of these works, so it adds some dimension to seeing the works' settings, rather than just the image head on. There is a greater impact seeing Leonardo's Last Supper as it is meant to be, as part of a monastery's refectory, and imagine the impact of sitting and dining under this powerful painting! Also, some of the musings from the interviewees makes me stop and realise "hey, I never thought about it that way." My particular favorite episodes thus far are Edvard Munch's The Scream and James McNeill Whistler's Arrangement in Grey and Black No.1 - Portrait of the Artist's Mother, oddly enough, since I've never been much of a modernist. Perhaps now I'm ready to learn about that which used to turn me off.

Ah, the power of television.

A parent's worst nightmare: Part 2

John Hart's suspense novel, The Last Child, is a book for which readers need to be prepared: not by brushing up on historic events, not by reading prequels, but to psychologically be immersed in a dirty, squalid, evil world of missing children, drugs, alcohol, and abuse. Also, be prepared to set aside a few hours to become lost in the storyline.

The Last Child centres around 13 year old Johnny Merrimon, one year after the disappearance of his twin sister Alyssa. During that year, the Merrimon family went from middle class, happy, secure and loving to broken, poverty stricken, and distraught. Johnny's mum, Katherine, blames her husband for not fulfilling his promise to pick Alyssa up from the library, and guilt causes him to quickly leave his remaining family. Meanwhile, Katherine moves herself and Johnny into the slums of town, and only gets through the day by taking a wild assortment of pills, supplied by the town's richest citizen and her husband's former boss, Ken Holloway, who also physically abuses her.

Johnny's only friend, Jack, has his own issues: his arm is deformed from a childhood accident, his brother is a bully about to embark on a promising sports career, his father, a police detective, only has eyes for the older son, and Jack's mother, a fervently religious woman, prays for her youngest, who has taken to skipping school and numbing his emotional pain through alcohol. He is the only witness to Alyssa's abduction as she was pulled into a white van. Jack also is the only one to support Johnny in his obsession to find Alyssa, which leads them into incredibly dangerous situations tracking the scummiest characters in the area: child molesters.

Hart's book is not an easy read; it is cluttered and complicated, with many twists and turn, some which appear too coincidental to be conceivable. There's almost too much tragedy to make it believable, but it does show that 'ordinary' people can have their lives turned around quickly. It is difficult to read not only because of the disappearance of Alyssa, but the various family dynamics. Not only are Johnny's and Jack's families messed up, the lead detective in the case, Clyde Hunt, has lost his wife and is losing his only son because of his compulsion to solve Alyssa's disappearance. Throw in convict Levi Freemantle, with his own slew of problems, and you have some of the sorriest group of people you'll ever meet in literature.

Despite these 'flaws,' the book is compelling and difficult to put down. I may not have liked any of the characters, but I wanted to know the outcome. Hart manages to make the book's climax even more of a page turner by shortening his last few chapters, increasing tension and quickening the pace of the action.

I've read several books about missing children, some with 'happy' resolutions, some sad, and some with no resolution at all. The Last Child lacks the emotion and fullness of characterisation of some of the others, but it is a satisfying thriller that will keep you up late into the night.

Great Gamache

Quebec author Louise Penny's latest installment of her Three Pines series, like her previous titles, does not disappoint. The Brutal Telling again features the brilliantly conceived Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, an intelligent, well-read, calm and highly respected murder investigator, his right-hand man Inspector Beauvior, quick tempered and narrow minded, and a bevy of local characters, including the horrendously mannered award winning poet Ruth Zardo and her pet duck, competing husband and wife artists Peter and Clara Morrow, and larger than life Gabri who runs a bistro with his partner Oliver, the latter of whom is at the centre of the book's investigation.

When a dead body is found in Oliver's bistro, a bizarre set of circumstances unfolds. Was the man local? Why does no one recognise him? Where does he live? How old is he? And how did he acquire the priceless items eventually found at his residence? Penny reveals the answers to these questions with an old-time mystery appeal. The plot is intriguing, and twists and turns from what seems to obvious answer. It is vivid in its imagery and description, and the balance of characters and their interplay is realistic and engaging. For example, Beauvoir, a bit lacking in romanticism and imagination, is amazed that Gamache can take the time to admire a stunning sunset in the middle of a murder investigation, or 'marvel' in the perfection of an autumn leaf.

The dry sense of humour is also delightful. A mother responds to her son's incredulousness about his father being alive after years of supposing he was dead with "I might have exaggerated." As a former Montreal Anglophone, I particularly like Beauvoir's observations on long-standing cultural prejudices, such as "the English he knew to be all the same. Nuts."

The town of Three Pines itself is a major character in Penny's books. Nestled in Quebec's Eastern Townships, amidst maple trees and gently rolling hills, many of the characters are former Montrealers who gave up the fast paced lifestyle and stressful city lifestyle for a quieter life in the country. In fact, Penny's descriptions of Three Pines has helped to increase tourism to that region. The combination of location and characters makes all of Penny's books sensational reading.

http://www.manoirhovey.com/presse/Globe%20and%20Mail%2009%2012%2018.pdf

Also see Penny's website for titles in the series, pronunciation guides, and photos of the Eastern Townships.

http://www.louisepenny.com/

Examination of a marriage

My relationship with author Anita Shreve's books is hit and miss. I either absolutely love her novels, or just don't see the point and regret spending my time waiting for 'something' to happen (yes, I give her the benefit of the doubt and read to the end). It's rarely in between. Her latest novel, A Change in Altitude, was, for me, another hit (phew).

The plot centres around photographer Margaret and Peter in the 1970s, a young newlywed couple from Boston who relocate to Kenya to concentrate on Peter's medical career. There, they meet Arthur and Diana, both British, but Diana Kenyan born, with two school age children. The older couple welcome Margaret and Peter into their lives, albeit with some reserve, renting a cottage out to them, and then letting them live in their home when the cottage's plumbing breaks down.

It's taken for granted that Margaret and Peter will join Diana and Arthur and another couple on a climb of Mount Kenya, despite Margaret not being consulted or at all enthusiastic about it. While on the climb, an accident claims a life, and the repercussions of events leading up to it introduce cracks in Peter and Margaret's new marriage, especially when she begins to work with Rafiq, a local journalist.

A Change in Altitude is about more than just a look at a marriage. Surrounding it are hints of personal and political stories of Kenya in the 1970s; women's rights, tribal affiliations, corrupt governments, tourism, nature, riches and poverty and class structure, and colonialism. Shreve somehow successfully combines all this into just 307 pages without becoming preachy or didactic. While I admit that with the exception of Rafiq, I didn't care for any of the main characters, I was intrigued by the story, interested in how or if the couple would confront their marital problems, and how their relocation to a foreign country with a vastly different history would affect them.

Thumbs up!

A tribute

Next time you walk into the Creston Library, take a look around. Enjoy the space, the bright airiness, the huge windows, the grand view. Then take a silent moment to thank Lawrence Lavender.

For anyone who did not have the pleasure of meeting Lawrence, he was the library board's chair for several years. His tenure saw three librarians, a handful of mayors, a referendum, a portable addition to our old location, and, finally, the securing of this new beautiful location and a big move! Sadly, Lawrence passed away last week, and his loss will be strongly felt within these walls.

If not for Lawrence's tenacity, we may still be in our cramped, moldy, dark, unhealthy former location. Yes, a lost referendum ten years ago meant we did not have a building to our specifications, but despite disappointment, Lawrence kept our spirits up and was determined that Creston would have a proper library. His voice meant that when this building became available upon the relocation of the Health Unit, the words 'new library' couldn't help but be at forefront.

When I think of Lawrence, a few outstanding characteristics come to mind: fair, respectful, focused, generous, and possessor of decency, and of a great chuckle.

My most esteemed thanks to Lawrence for all he did for us, as a library, a town, and individuals.

New year, 'new' author

A few weeks ago I wrote about my favourite books which combine past and present lives. Here is an addition to that list!

A new 'discovery' for me, author M.J. Rose's The Reincarnationist focuses on Josh Ryder, a photographer who, while enraptured with a confrontation between a police officer and a woman pushing a stroller, has a near death experience. Afterwards, he has visions of Julius, a 4th century pagan priest in Rome. Julius watches as Emperor Theodosius outlaws paganism, disbands the Vestal Virgins, and authorises the destruction of non-Christian places of worship.

In present day Rome, Josh becomes involved with Professor Gabriella Chase, an historian interested in a 4th century tomb of the last Vestal Virgin, who's mummimified body clasps a collection of precious gems. The gems are believed to be The Memory Stones, which are crucial to people being able to remember past lives. When they are stolen, Josh and Gabriella become entwined with numerous questions, threats and dangers.

The Reincarnationist is a great thriller, a la Da Vinci Code, albeit a bit of a slower pace, and with substantially less information (which is not a negative characteristic!). There were certain sections, which while interesting, I think could have been left out without detracting from the story. Also like The Da Vinci Code, the book is more than just a thriller: it is a commentary on religion, politics and leaders, particularly the subject of reincarnation in Christian culture. As the characters of the book point out, if a soul is reborn and humans in charge of their fate and afterlife, it would detract power from the Church and its leaders as the sole method of absolution on earth.

A good way to start off a new year of reading.