4★ "The great error in Rip’s composition was an insuperable aversion to all kinds of profitable labour."
Rip would find plenty of sympathisers among rea4★ "The great error in Rip’s composition was an insuperable aversion to all kinds of profitable labour."
Rip would find plenty of sympathisers among readers, I'm sure. In brief, it's the short tale of a man whose wife is frustrated beyond belief by his lack of ambition. But he is much-loved by the local children for whom he always has time to play games.
To escape the nagging, he heads for the hills with his dog and stays away too long. It's so late he fears going home to face his wife. He is startled when he's approached by a small, strange man who takes him to a clearing. They hear thunder along the way.
"On a level spot in the centre was a company of odd-looking personages playing at ninepins. . . . The whole group reminded Rip of the figures in an old Flemish painting, in the parlour of Dominie Van Shaick, the village parson, and which had been brought over from Holland at the time of the settlement."
Please do have a look at the story online to appreciate the artwork.
"What seemed particularly odd to Rip, was, that though these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene, but the noise of the balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder."
The men all know his name and offer him drinks from their flagon. He takes a chance, tries it, and drinks himself to sleep. When he wakes, he's befuddled, of course, and eventually finds he has slept through the American Revolutionary War.
I hope my brief summary isn't going to spoil anyone's enjoyment of this classic story. I recommend getting a taste of what writing was like back in 1819.
Rackham's illustrations are a mixture of drawings and intricate paintings that look like old woodcuts – perfect for this old story.
I always enjoy reading the somewhat archaic language of old tales like this. Thanks to the Short Story Club Group, which you can join for copies of stories and discussions of those that interest you. The Short Story Club Group...more
5★ "Sensing me looking towards his screen now, he glances over and presses the button to raise the privacy barrier between us. I give him the finger an5★ "Sensing me looking towards his screen now, he glances over and presses the button to raise the privacy barrier between us. I give him the finger and, as he disappears from sight, it’s good to hear him laugh aloud."
Continuing The Elements quartet, which began with Water, Earth, and FireFire, Air ties many of the story threads together. It's not a neat package with a bow, but it's a dawning recognition by Aaron, the main character who narrates, that he is not the only person suffering from a terrible childhood.
He and his fourteen-year-old son, Emmet, are flying from Sydney, Australia, to Dubai, where Emmet has flown every year to visit his mother. His parents are separated, and Rebecca is an airline pilot, so Dubai is a handy hub for her. He was reluctant to make this trip. He wanted to stay home to surf with his close mates at Bondi Beach, where he and his dad live.
He's a bookish kid, into literature and foreign film, a far cry from his dad's occasional airport novel read, usually the current thriller. Dad has noticed him watching a film on the plane, hence the privacy screen going up. Aaron is a child psychologist, and Emmet says frequently to stop trying to psychoanalyse him. It would be hard not to, wouldn't it?
But Aaron did what a lot of parents have done, which began by accidentally breaching Emmet's privacy… and then continuing further.
"Two weeks ago, while we were watching TV together, Emmet stood up to use the bathroom. He left his phone on the sofa next to me and, despite every fibre of my being telling me not to, I lifted it and scanned quickly through his messages. They were mostly indecipherable, written in some form of English that must have made sense to him and his friends but was like Greek to me. I was about to put it back when it occurred to me to check his photos. They were mostly pictures of Bondi Beach, a few of his friend Damian surfing, but as I scrolled further back, I found something that made my stomach sink.
Three semi-naked photos.
None, thankfully, featuring his face, but I knew his torso well enough to recognize that they were of him…"
Both Aaron and Rebecca have had trauma in their youth, and Aaron is super-protective of their only child. Emmet seems like a nice kid who loves his dad and isn't too sure about his mum, because she kind of abandoned him to go flying and have a new life in Dubai. Father and son are sitting in the middle two seats, and the first thing Emmet asked, was could he move to the single seat across the aisle. No, not to be away from dad but to have a window.
"The cabin is starting to fill now and a young woman in her early twenties approaches the empty window seat, the one Emmet had ambitions towards. She has the most extraordinary good looks – I’d be willing to bet that she’s a model – and appears to be dressed for a fashion shoot rather than a long-haul flight. . . . The body-hugging outfit she’s wearing is ridiculously short, barely reaching beneath her thighs, and her legs are bare and tanned.
I notice Emmet watching her, and it’s not because she’s taken the seat he wanted. His tongue is pressed against his upper lip, his eyes are open wide, and I realize in this moment that my son is straight. To date, he’s never expressed an interest in either sex to me, but I’ve always instinctively felt that he might be gay."
Dad is surprised that it takes something like this to learn something so fundamental about his son. Being gay would just add an unnecessary layer of complexity to his life, as Boyne puts it. (Boyne knows these complexities all too well.)
As their trip continues – beyond Dubai – Emmet learns more about his parents and grandparents. Aaron bites his tongue for a long time about the photos on Emmet's phone, but eventually confronts him – a parent's nightmare.
At the very beginning of the book, it seemed I was going to get a lecture on how to look after teenaged boys, and I was surprised Boyne had done this … until the story moved on, and it all made sense.
I began to recognise some of the characters from the previous books, but sometimes not when they first appeared. Boyne, however, has covered that well. He includes just enough detail in the discussions between Aaron and others that I could remember the crux of the earlier stories.
I loved it and admired the way Boyne brought the elements together at the end.
To enjoy these four books to the fullest, I think they're best read in the right order, although each is a separate story. I read and reviewed the first three here: ...more
4.5★ "By the time the clerk finds the clothes, a ghost of a girl on the changing room floor, she won't remember whose they are, and Addie will be gone,4.5★ "By the time the clerk finds the clothes, a ghost of a girl on the changing room floor, she won't remember whose they are, and Addie will be gone, from sight and mind and memory."
Adeline LaRue is not invisible, but any memory of her is. Well, almost. In fact, she does leave some trace, some wisp of an essence of her having been somewhere. But that's later.
Born in France in the 1700s, Adeline is destined to marry a young man she doesn't love. The young men she knows each have some good qualities, but she wants them all in one man.
"And so she stole the pieces she found pleasant, and assembled someone new. A stranger.
It began as a game—but the more Adeline draws him, the stronger the lines, the more confident the press of her charcoal.
Black curls. Pale eyes. Strong jaw. Sloping shoulders and a cupid's bow mouth. A man she'd never meet, a life she'd never know, a world she could only dream of.
When she is restless, she returns to the drawings, tracing over the now familiar lines."
When she was very young, wandering in the woods she loves, she befriended Estele, an old lady – a witch, if you will – who has taught her the lore of praying to the gods by burying something of value for them.
"She leans over Adeline, casting her in shadow. 'And no matter how desperate or dire, never pray to the gods that answer after dark.'"
This is right at the beginning of the book, so we know immediately that this headstrong young girl is going to trigger the gods to make her invisible or turn her into a pumpkin or whatever appropriate penalty they have in mind.
Adeline doesn't mean to do anything wrong. Of course she doesn't.
Sections of the book are divided into parts and chapters with clear dates and locations so we know where we are. Here, we are in VILLON-SUR-SARTHE, FRANCE, July 29, 1714, a significant date that becomes an anniversary from that time to the present.
After having prayed and offered the gods every item she can think of, she's finally at her wedding with no rescue in sight. She races from the church to the woods, her special place, to make a last-minute appeal. Clutching her most beloved treasure, the little wooden ring her father made for her and that she is never without, she prays.
"'Please, she whispers, her voice breaking over the word as she plunges the band down into the mossy earth. 'I will do anything.' . . . The silence is mocking. She has lived here all her life and never heard the woods this quiet. Cold settles over her, and she doesn't know if it's coming from the forest or from her own bones, giving up the last of their fight. Her eyes are still shut tight, and perhaps that is why she doesn't notice that the sun has slipped behind the village at her back, that dusk has given way to dark. Adeline keeps praying, and doesn't notice at all."
We knew night would fall, of course, and we wonder what evil might befall this seventeen-year-old girl with the wild imagination and dreams of her secret stranger.
When she hears a voice, feels the brush of an arm, sees the mist and fog swirl to take shape, she realises what she's done.
"The shadows in the woods begin to pull together, drawn like storm clouds. But when they settle, the edges are no longer wisps of smoke, but hard lines, the shape of a man, made firm by the light of the village lanterns at his back. . . . The voice spills from a perfect pair of lips, a shadow revealing emerald eyes that dance below black brows, black hair that curls across his forehead, framing a face Adeline knows too well. One that she has conjured up a thousand times, in pencil and charcoal and dream. It is the stranger. 'Her' stranger. She knows it is a trick, a shadow parading as a man, but the sight of him still robs her breath."
She wants freedom, untethered from anyone, freedom to live. For the next three hundred years, we experience that with her. She remains a beautiful and distinctly memorable girl with an appealing 'constellation' of seven freckles scattered across her nose, a feature that is loved by many and remarked upon often.
The price she pays is that once she's out of their sight, she is a complete stranger to them – quite a shock for an attentive young lover from the night before when they wake up with the body of a beautiful girl sleeping next to them but have no idea who she is and no memory of the night before.
The Stranger reappears unexpectedly sometimes and on their 'anniversary' sometimes. She is both terrified of him and obsessed by him. She is stubborn, and that appeals to 'him'.
Interspersed between sections are half a dozen illustrations of works of art from different eras, each with a page of gallery notes about the artist and the subject. Each has to do with a girl with seven 'stars' across her face, and we recognise the names of the artists. It is a great touch and a kind of snub to The Stranger, who created her as 'unmemorable'.
I thoroughly enjoyed this – her travels across the world, her inside view of historical events, and her frustration with never being allowed to be known or leave her mark anywhere. I had a few editing quibbles (repeated phrases and such), but nothing that would spoil the overall story.
For me, there's just enough magic to be fun and enough plot and danger to keep me intrigued. I think the author finished it perfectly.
p.s. I began listening to Julia Whelan's audio because she's very good. But in this case, I found it jarring that she pronounced Adeline in the English way rather than ah-deh-LEEN, which I was expecting. That's just another minor quibble that probably won't matter to anyone else. I was happy to read instead. ...more
" 'It’s the toughest job we’ve ever had to bash open, Bony, and honestly, you think ten times about tackling it. Remember what you told me years ago
4★
" 'It’s the toughest job we’ve ever had to bash open, Bony, and honestly, you think ten times about tackling it. Remember what you told me years ago? An ordinary policeman can afford to fail, but you never. The finest weightlifter that ever was didn’t try to lift a Pyramid. But the sun and the wind and the rain will eventually wash a Pyramid away to dust, and Time may give us a hammer heavy enough to crack this nut.' "
Superintendent Bolt knows that Bony isn't likely to sit still and wait for Time to solve the mystery of the naked body buried in the lighthouse wall. No indeed.
"Crafty Bolt! He knew the case Bony could never resist. And he knew, too, the fate destined for Napoleon Bonaparte should he fail to finalize this one which he, with all his experts, all his scientists, could not crack."
Detective Bonaparte is to work undercover and visit the area on Australia's southern shores as if he's a holidaying grazier, introducing himself as Rawlings and taking in the sights on his own. The Southern Ocean, southwest of Melbourne, is still a popular destination for travellers.
He likes to walk and a local dog likes him, so they wander around the town and district and pubs, meeting the locals. Stug, the dog (read his name backwards), is a loyal companion and a handy diversion when needed.
It's a laid-back kind of investigation, because he has to masquerade as a tourist, being just curious enough to get the locals to tell tales, but not so intense that he raises any suspicions.
I've read several of this old Aussie collection many years ago, and I enjoyed meeting Bony again. The first was written in 1929, and I think they continued until the 1960s.
It's an interesting look at a very different time in Australia's history, but this isn't really historical fiction. This one was written in 1951 about that same period, when returned soldiers and decimated famiies were trying to recover from the trauma and absences following World War Two... not to mention how many families had previously lost people in World War One.
These have been reissued, and I've found digital copies in libraries. Thank you, libraries! ...more
4★ " Ryan looks at the pasta on his plate, moves it around with his fork and then stands abruptly. ‘I’m going out.’"
Ryan, Ciara, and two little girls 4★ " Ryan looks at the pasta on his plate, moves it around with his fork and then stands abruptly. ‘I’m going out.’"
Ryan, Ciara, and two little girls should be a happy Dublin family, but Ryan says Ciara is crazy – can't manage money, can't do anything right. While he's out and the girls are in bed, she retreats to cleaning – 'nesting' – as these urges are called when pregnant women begin to prepare their home for a new baby.
"Only, she didn’t sense an arrival but an impending threat. Cleaning, painting, fixing every centimetre of that house felt like the only thing that was safe."
Ryan returns. He wants to argue about how she wronged him today. She tries to reply but eventually gives up.
"Anything she says will be wrong. Words are useless. She has to step outside of language, away from it, into pure action. She reaches for a dishcloth.
‘What the hell are you doing now?’
‘Cleaning the sink.’ Her hands are shaking. ‘Look, I’m sorry for upsetting you, I didn’t mean—’
‘What, are you f***ing kidding me? You’re not sorry at all. What’s wrong with you? You’re crazy. No wonder you’ve no friends. I’m done with you.’
‘Ryan, please can we just—’
‘I said I’m f***ing done.’
He stands up, chair legs shrieking against the tiles, and pushes the chair back so hard it clatters over. Her heart jumps.
He sidesteps past her, as if she’s something diseased and festering, and fires his mug into the steel sink so hard the handle breaks, leaving flecks of china in the suds and on her hands. Leaving the kitchen, he slams the door with such force that the side lamp topples off the table and onto the tiles. The bulb shatters, plunging the room into darkness.
Hands shaking, still holding the checked J-cloth. Lemony Fairy liquid. Blood pounding in her ears, deafening. She has become the house. The toppled chair. The smashed bulb. The broken handle. Her bones and blood."
We can see where this is going, so why does she stay there? Sophie is only four, Ella only two, and Ciara hasn't worked in five years, so has no money of her own. She can't go to her mum and sister in the UK, because he's put a block on the passport for his daughters.
What do you do when it's your word against his, and he's the one with the job and the good reputation, eh? She is contained, confined, almost a hostage.
Or is she? You know the saying: "It takes a village to raise a child"? Well, it takes that same village to look after some of those children and their desperate parents as well.
Ciara meets the "Hotelisation of the Housing Crisis" head-on. Well, not exactly. It's more by the side entrance for those people 'temporarily' housed by the Dublin City Council Homeless Executive in local hotels.
The lobby and hotel facilities are out of bounds. It's a sign-in, sign-out system to keep the room – and it is just a room, but at least it has its own bathroom. No cooking, no fridge. But beds and shelter.
The hotel staff are mostly helpful and understanding. She's not the only one hiding from an abusive partner, and somehow, even Sophie gets the message never to mention they live in a hotel.
Ryan sends a continual onslaught of texts and messages. He is relentless. He is also an excellent actor who can burst into tears (his parents believe him) about how distressed he is that the love of his life has taken his children.
While there is always an undercurrent of threat and danger, there is encouragement in how those in similar situations band together. These are not the homeless men standing around an incinerator fire under a bridge to keep warm (which is another whole level of despair).
These are small families, couples with a newborn, a mum with teenagers, people whose circumstances you wouldn't know if you saw them in shops or schools. There are simply not enough homes or houses to go around.
Life goes on, and Ciara does her best – with help – to see that it does.
Earlier this year I read Florence Knapp's recent debut The Names, which addresses the same subject through three possible scenarios (and does it well). This is a more day-to-day, gradual morphing from captivity to independence.
I was pleased to see the other characters O'Donnell has added to help us recognise Ciara as an individual, not just a one-dimensional placeholder for a single mum. She has had an interesting past that she gradually reveals. All in all, a good read I enjoyed.
4★ (also excellent audio) "So scary! EXCITING! I am helpless old lady. What to do? Is my duty to find killer before killer go on rampage. Killer will c4★ (also excellent audio) "So scary! EXCITING! I am helpless old lady. What to do? Is my duty to find killer before killer go on rampage. Killer will come back for flash drive. I will identify killer and catch him her them!"
This is a delightful, if pretty predictable, cosy mystery with lovable characters of different nationalities, all of whom could be the killer… including Vera herself.
Vera is an older Chinese widow who owns a rundown tearoom with countless varieties of exotic teas which she blends individually for customers in San Francisco, California. She's also a frustrated matchmaker, nagging her lawyer won with advice about how to get a girlfriend.
One day, a man rushes into her shop and collapses dead on the floor. When the police arrive, she has made them special tea, for "clearing the mind" which they quickly decline. The first officer goes to look at the body while the second tries to interview Vera.
"Officer Gray, a kind-looking Black officer who looks about Tilly’s age [Vera's son], walks toward Vera. She’s wearing a polite smile. 'Ma’am, can you step outside for a moment? I need to take your statement.'
'Oh, no, thank you,' Vera says quickly. 'I need to stay and make sure your friends don’t miss anything.'
'What the—?' the first officer mutters. 'Hey, ma’am, who drew the outline around the deceased?'
'Ah.' Vera swells with pride. They have noticed just how helpful and resourceful Vera is. 'I do it. I save you some work.' Vera knew what was supposed to happen at crime scenes—the police would draw an outline around the body using tape, but unfortunately, Vera was rather short on tape, so she had to make do with a Sharpie. She had been ever so careful as she drew the outline, making sure to leave about a half-inch gap between the Sharpie tip and the body so she didn’t come into contact with it. The resulting outline is, if she may say so, excellent—both accurate and clear. She should tell the cops to switch from tape to Sharpie.
But the cops don’t seem impressed. In fact, they seem really annoyed. 'Get her out of here,' the first officer barks."
This will give you a taste of the force that is Vera. She did, in fact, take a flash drive from the dead man's hand and is putting an obituary in the paper and posting about it on the Twitter and the TikTok, as she says in her manner of speaking.
It works, and a couple of people have turned up looking a bit frantic. As a few more people are drawn in, Vera makes a list of suspects. The people she's attracted band together to find the killer, and the romp begins.
Turns out the dead guy was a loss to no one. He had planned to walk out on his wife and had scammed everyone else, so there's that going for it. No tears shed there.
The main characters are of Chinese, Indian, and Indonesian backgrounds, and they all enjoy many feasts, courtesy of Vera, who has just been hungering for a family to feed. You won't be shedding tears, but you will be drooling for a good Chinese Chomp, as my family calls them.
This is a short, fun read, and Sutanto has done a great job of writing the manners of speech of those who don't 'sound' American-born. Vera, especially, has the truncated speech of an immigrant who picks up the main words and skips the others. Her use of slang and malaprops are a delight. "Pot-catch" for "Podcast" is one I recall.
I also listened to the audio sometimes, because the narrator, Eunice Wong, does a fantastic job with the voices, especially Vera's. After hearing her, I had Vera's voice in my ear even when I was just reading.
It is a charming story with no blood and gore or horror but a plot such that any of the characters could, indeed, have been the killer, whether intentionally or otherwise. I was more than happy to suspend disbelief that Vera could turn out so much food and so many varied dishes at such a time. Yum!
This is #1 in the Vera series now, so fans (and there will be many, I'm sure) have more to look forward to....more
PattyMacDotComma
>
Books:
aa-ce
(623)
