Swiss mystery

Lately I’ve been working in the library at night, so I pick up some fiction from the new books shelf that I might otherwise miss. Reading a lot of European mysteries these days. Such as:

Martin Suter, A Deal with the Devil (2007). A Swiss bestseller about Sonia, a physiotherapist recently divorced from violent husband and at loose ends, who retreats to work in remote Alpine hotel outside a village filled with malevolent locals. Sinister things start to happen, all connected to old folktale about a woman who sold her soul to the devil. Nice and creepy—the contrast between the vaguely foolish wellness center with its treatment rooms and varieties of massages and the escalating violence is well done—and I especially liked the rural/urban comparison. Hadn’t thought of this before since Switzerland is so small, but the mountain village, traditional, medieval, agricultural, seems centuries away from the unnamed city (Zurich? Her ex-husband was a banker) that she flees. In a clever touch she stays in contact with a friend via texting, with the short messages conveying Sonia’s increasing terror and her friend’s advice.

Off to Edinburgh

Finally all those frequent flier miles pay off. The three of us are off to visit Ray in Edinburgh for Thanksgiving (turkey-and-haggis?). I've prepared by reading the Alexander McCall Smith books on 44 Scotland Street, sort of an Edinburgh version of Tales of the City, only less kinky.

books and brownies

I have taken to going to the library every evening with a medium coffee from the Medici and a large brownie; I eat half of it and throw the other half away (if I were to put it in my library locker, would it draw mice?). Anyhow, reading that is not quite work, not quite sheer entertainment.

Finished a wonderful biography of Zora Neale Hurston, Wrapped in Rainbows, by an Atlanta journalist named Valerie Boyd. What a dramatic life Hurston lived: teenage runaway with a Gilber and Sullivan touring company, anthropology student of Franz Boas, social butterfly of the Harlem Renaissance, lovers galore along with three husbands, fieldwork and books from Haiti and Jamaica as well as through the South, collector and transcriber of Southern folklore, studied hoodoo/voodoo in New Orleans and Haiti, accused of child molestation, worked as maid and library assistant, great gardener, and always she kept returning to beloved Florida. Great defender of the South, which she felt northerners, especially northern Blacks, just did not comprehend. I have not read any of her books except the masterpiece Their Eyes Were Watching God, which I'm teaching in a course on the mid-century African American novel.

Happy Labor Day

My readers--both of them--are griping that (1) I don't post consistently enough, and (2) I don't say enough about my reactions to the books, just the summaries. Ahem. One of my readers NEVER BLOGS AT ALL, and the other one churns out twenty-thousand words (good words, I admit) on a single Wierd Al concert. Sigh. And I still haven't finished the next book, Mr. Pip, so you're going to have to wait.

Peanutfiend is back again

After an 8-month hiatus, Peanutfiend is back. Need to share my reading, and get people involved in Man Booker picks.

Summer reading 2007

Looking back at 2006, I am amazed at how many good books I read last year. I don’t think I’m keeping up the pace this year. I’m writing this now in July (July 4), so I can’t even remember most of what I read in June.

June (what I can remember)

Marisha Pessl, Special Topics in Calamity Physics This was a hot book last summer, about a daughter and her itinerant professor-father, a widower. Most of it takes place in North Carolina, where she gets involved with a group of snobby kids who hang around a charismatic teacher, Hannah. The thing that makes the book unusual is the constant referencing to (mostly) fictitious titles and articles. Reminded me of that Donna Tart book, The Secret History. Good for the first three-quarters, then fell apart.

James Hall, Magic City One of those mysteries about Thorn, the guy who lives in Key Largo and ties flies for a living (when he’s not solving crimes), although this one takes place in Miami and involves Cuban exiles. I always like these, though I prefer the ones set in the Keys.

James Baldwin, Go Tell It on the Mountain This and the next two I read to prepare for the Freshman Seminar I’m teaching in the fall. GTIM is about a 14-year-old in Harlem and his church-going family with a vicious father, long-suffering mother, rebellious brother, and strong-willed aunt. It all takes place in one day, with many flashbacks to each character’s earlier life, especially in the South.

Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God Janie and her three husbands in Florida: an old farmer, an entrepreneur in Eatonville, an all-black town where Hurston actually did grow up, and Teacake, the younger man and love of her life. She moves with him to Belle Glade, where they are hard working and happy until a disastrous flood.

Richard Wright, Native Son Fascinating portrait of race relations in Chicago in the 1930s. The portrait of Communists at the time is especially interesting. Based on a real murder, the plot involves Bigger Thomas, who accidentally kills a rich white girl. The Jewish-Commuist lawyer’s final plea for racial tolerance is a bit too long, but overall it’s a powerful book.

August (I haven’t kept up with this)

I read a lot of Edwin Arlington Robinson to prepare for the book club discussion. Now I have in mind doing a program on him at Skidompha.

And I’ve read a lot of not-all-that-memorable mysteries, including one by Michael Connelly (The Overlook, not his best), Lee Child, and now one by Norwegian writer Karen Fossum, The Devil Takes the Candle, creepy and good.

I need to work my way through the Booker nominees. Short list will be announced Sept 6 and winner Oct 16, so I’ve gotta move on this.

Booker (long list)

Ian McEwan, Chesil Beach Wonderfully written, of course, but it seems short and slight, something of an exercise in which a terrific wordsmith says, “Let’s see if I can recreate the sexual awkwardness of people just before the sexual revolution” and does so very successfully.

Catherine O'Flynn, What Was Lost I enjoyed this a lot. Takes a most unusual setting—a sterile shopping mall and, especially, the service corridors and spaces behind the public space--and some of the slacker-types that work there to tell a moving story about love, mystery, buried pasts, consumerism, ghosts, and redemption. A first novel. Perhaps this will seem too lightweight for the Booker judges, but I was most impressed.

Nicola Barker, Darkmans This is a huge book, but the type is huge too (do I have a large-print version? Doesn’t say so). Anyhow, it’s affected, unreadable, pointless (I decided this by page 30 of some 700 pages—don’t waste your time).

Stay tuned for future reports! Ciao, Peanutfiend

Peanutfiend

Hi, all my readers. Yes, months have gone by. Ramadan ended, Thanksgiving ended, and we're moving toward Christmas. Republicans out, Democrats in; will things improve? Hope so, but less confident than most. Ray reads "The Manciple's Tale" in Middle English; nothing would surprise Chaucer. Olivia dances and dreams. J goes to Italy. I read, eat peanuts, flirt with another department. Lots of ice outside and things are dark but spirits are bright. Back to blogging, my resolution for the year-to-come.

second October news

The first one doesn't seem to be there, or at least half the time I don't see it, so I'm experimenting. Why is it that the world blogs but I can't seem to get into the habit. And is anyone but me sick of the whole Mark Foley thing? He's a creep, of course, but why is this more important than North Korea planning to test nuclear weapons or people dying in Darfur? I think it's the People-Magazine effect: anything prurient grabs all our attention.