The Secret Wife by Gill Paul

After stumbling upon her husband’s phone, left in full view with evidence of an affair, Kitty finds herself boarding a plane for the States without telling either her husband or her best friend – or anyone, for that matter – where she is headed. She just has to get away to sort out her thoughts and her next steps and fortunately, for her, she’s got a perfect place to do just that. Coincidentally, a few weeks prior, the papers came through confirming her inheritance of a cottage on a lake near Albany, NY, from a great grandfather she has known almost nothing about. As it turns out, while she sorts out her own situation, she also becomes curious to learn about her great grandfather, Dmitri, the prior owner of this cottage. Why has she never heard about him? Why did she not know there was another writer in the family? And from whom is this very expensive Faberge pendant she’s found in the cottage? As she pieces together the mystery of her great grandfather’s past, she finds she also learns quite a bit more about herself.

By pivoting between Kitty’s story and that of Dmitri’s, we learn about what did happen and what could have been. Dmitri’s story begins in 1914 at the start of the Russian revolution when he is first injured and is tended to by one of the Tsar’s daughters, Tatiana. The original historical legend is a horror. This one has its horrific moments as well, for sure, but the author also intermixes it with love, hope and much imagination.

There are a few themes that resonated throughout the narrative and over which I struggled. One was that of loyalty and the other was forgiveness. Kitty is crushed by her husband’s failure of loyalty, and evades and then contemplates a path to forgiveness. Likewise, Dmitri is fiercely loyal to Tatiana, but when he finds another love who lifts his spirits when he believes he is lost, his loyalty to his new family is questioned by others. Some forgive and others cannot – and this impact lasts for generations. What this story highlights to a dramatic degree is that things may not be as they appear to be. While we think we know someone, their circumstances, their history – we may know nothing at all about what is going on inside their heads or their hearts, their truth.The only genuine path to forgiveness is to hear someone out, to give an opportunity for them to voice their truth. To get there, that requires having an open heart to what they have to say – and that may or may not be achievable.

This is why I believe reading is crucial. If we read and take in what we read, we, in turn, open our hearts and minds to other ideas. This is what makes us more human, more compassionate. We understand others’ perspectives, others’ voices. I have a long way to go yet, but this is one of the ways in which I strive to grow and move forward.

The Personal Librarian by Marie Benedict and Victoria Christopher Murray

Belle da Costa Greene is never happier than when she’s holed up among Princeton’s trove of ancient texts, soaking in the artistry of the lettering inside these relics and conjuring up the historical context in which they were printed. Since childhood, she’s been passionate about the art and literary relics of the Medieval and Renaissance eras, and so when her old friend, Junius is about to show her a unique specimen in the Princeton library, she almost shudders to think how fortunate she is to be able to see this ancient text up close. She is not prepared, however, for his offer of a recommendation for the position that will, ultimately change the course of her entire life: to be the personal librarian to his uncle, the one and only JP Morgan. For any woman, this would be an intimidating position, for this was not a position women were offered. But for Belle, there is a complicating factor that would make her uniquely unsuited – so she is bound to keep her true identity hidden from the world. But can she do this when it is so dangerous for both her and her family?

This is the fictionalized story of an actual woman, born Belle Marion Greener, who made her way into New York society by virtue of her ardent passion for the preservation of art, her intellectual prowess, and her social guile. Her earliest memories were of leafing through art history textbooks with her father, and her curiosity for learning that sprouted from this never waned. Though a woman, she was granted access to the library at Princeton, working with the trove of sacred texts that were housed there, and from there she was referred to interview with the larger-than-life collector of art and ancient texts and artifacts, JP Morgan. Impressed with both her fund of knowledge and her pure moxie, he not only hired her but gave her license to maintain and expand his collection as she saw appropriate. Together, they amassed one of the world’s largest and most impressive collection of ancient texts, bibles, and artwork.

What I will not spoil here is the secret that Belle must keep – I will keep that secret along with her. But suffice it to say, that this secret stays with her and directs the course of her life. She is not free to do as she wishes nor is she free to be who she really is in order to secure her career and maintain the security of her family. Because of the era she lives in, she is tied to the social mores and prejudices of the moment and cannot risk revealing her true identity. She is caught between two worlds and she must make her choice, which she does for the sake of herself and for others who depend on her. Even while she struggles, she finds that it is the way it must be and she ultimately makes a sort of peace with it. But at many junctures, it impacts heavily upon her in very deep and cutting ways.

On the lighter side, this story does give an insider peek into the life of the Gilded Age of art and high society and how social status was brokered at this time. It was a sort of precarious time, whether you were in or out, depending on what people were saying about you, whether you bought the appropriate art, had the “right” taste, or your money came from the right source. There was also the beginning of hope for women, suffrage and equality, with women like Belle who broke into what had been a man’s world. She was certainly a pioneer in her field, showing that she did not have to relinquish her femininity to be successful in her dealing in the art world.  She just had to be so much smarter – which she apparently was!

This is an entertaining and educational read, both. Great fodder for all you historical fiction fans!!

Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver

From the very moment of his birth in the narrow, rented trailer home where his teen mom went into an early labor, Damon already felt the stacking of the cards against him. His father already six feet under only six months prior, Damon learned early to try to hide his mom’s alcohol even as he hid from her poor choices in men. He also knew when to escape to the Peggots’, their kindly neighbors and grandparents of his ally, Maggot. But he lost his battle to protect his mom when “Stoner” moved in. While his mom believed this newest partner might provide stability, Damon saw that what he actually provided was constant tension and outright physical warfare. This was the beginning of a journey for Damon that led him through the nightmare of the foster care system, which would test him to the limits of both his weaknesses and his strengths.

Barbara Kingsolver has always been one of my favorite authors and, again, she has proved this justified. As she recreates the narrative of David Copperfield through the voice of a young, poor, Appalachian boy at the brink of the opioid crisis, she does so with authenticity, respect, a love of this part of the land and its people, and, yes, even humor. It is a hard story. Damon, or “Demon” as he is nicknamed, is abandoned into the foster care system and left to his own creative devices and survival instincts at an excruciatingly young age. We follow him through his minimal ups and prolonged downs and we see that he has, in spite of his circumstances, a kind heart and an artistic soul. We come to love him and see his failings as the failings of the system that has tried to eat him alive, rather than his own personal ones. We see how these failings have been built on generations of systemic exploitation and vulnerability.

Kingsolver, through this narrative, brings to light a few important messages. One is how the large mining magnates exploited so much of Appalachia without regard to the land or the people who lived there. They created dependence on the corporations for everything. The people were owned by these corporations, but not protected by them, as their health, education, and welfare were not at all the company’s concern. And once the land was stripped of its use, it was abandoned, as were the people who lived there, leaving only poverty in its wake.

So it is not shocking that Purdue Pharma sought to prey also on this vulnerable population, sending out its sales reps like missionaries to these communities who were middle and lower-middle class without great access to adequate health care. Few on the receiving end were insured, so much of their health care was in the form of emergency room or in-hospital care only. The providers there were sold the BS that Purdue Pharma was dishing out on pain management: that they had invented the miracle panacea for pain relief through Oxycontin and that it was, miraculously, non-addictive. Well, we know how that fable goes…

What I believe I loved most about this story, and what Kingsolver does so tenderly, is highlight the beauty of both this region and the folks who live there. She describes the landscapes: the steep waterfalls, the green mountains, the valleys and rocky streams -and the fauna and flora that thrive there. How even if poverty exists there, folks are able to farm a patch of land to grow vegetables, hunt for food, or knit themselves a few sweaters for the cold weather – and that they do so for each other in their close-knit communities – because there are still close-knit communities where everyone knows everyone else, and have known their parents and grandparents as well.

This is a uniquely gorgeous novel – one that should not be passed up. This is, without a doubt, a MUST READ!

(And I think it’s also time for me to revisit the original David Copperfield as well!)

Where We Came From by Oscar Cesares

Orly is feeling a bit resentful. His older brother gets to go to camp and his best friend gets to travel to Europe, while Orly finds himself being driven to his godmother’s home in her small town of Brownsville, TX for 3 long weeks. Not that he has anything against his godmother, Nina, but it isn’t exactly his first choice for a summer vacation plan. And for her part, Nina feels badly for the boy, having to spend his time with her, especially given her current situation. She would love to take him to places he’d enjoy, but on top of caring for her mother, which already is a burden, she has the added weight of the current secret hiding in the little house in her backyard, which she cannot share with him, nor with anyone else, for that matter. It’s just too dangerous. But how long can she really keep this secret from a curious, intelligent, and adolescent-brained boy?

This novel tackles the very complex and tragic issue of immigration over our shared border with Mexico, where on one side there are drug cartels openly wreaking havoc on their streets and on the other are either coyotes who prey on desperate refugees or border patrol agents hunting them down just to send them back all over again. Nina suddenly finds herself trapped in the middle, embroiled inadvertently in this dangerous, messy business. While trying to be compassionate and humane, she also must consider the safety and security of her own family as well – and it is complicated. Added to the mix a young boy whose life is on the line – it becomes that much more complex.

This is such an incredibly important book to bring to the attention of the world – and to bring down to a human level. These refugees are human beings, not numbers or statistics. No one leaves their home, their family, their communities, or those who share their native customs and celebrations unless they are utterly desperate and feel that their lives are truly threatened. We are morally obligated to show these individuals compassion and understanding – especially since most of us here in the US are descendants of those who were in similar circumstances at one time or another.

On the other hand, where I felt this book fell short was in bringing sufficient warmth, humor, and fire to these characters. We care but we are not dependent on what happens to them. While we understand that Orly is lonely, it does not become our loneliness. While we understand that he is grieving for his mother, it does not become our grief. The characters all remain one step outside, even as we want to know them more intimately. We are granted glimpses of Nina and her more glamorous past, but we still are not let inside, not really. And this keeping us at arm’s length keeps the story just that side of attachment to it.

This is a story I wanted to love, to be awakened by, to be energized by.  It is important, timely, and relevant. But I did not, was not –  not as I could have been.

 

The Diamond Eye by Kate Quinn

Lyudmila Pavlichenko only wanted to protect her son when she went to retrieve him from the shooting gallery, where his usually absent father had brought him. He was only 5 years old, and the foolish boor was trying to impress him with the use of a gun, no less. Well, if that is what made a “good” father, then she would be both a good mother and a good father to her son. In addition to attending her graduate studies, working to earn money, and caring for her son, she also got herself certified as a sharpshooter. Little did she know how useful that would become, how it would equip her for the battles that were to ensue on her home turf during the second World War, and how it would change the course of her life forever.

Though this novel is fictionalized, it is based very closely on the memoir and historical accounts of the life of this true heroine, Lyudmila Pavlichenko (or “Mila”, to her closer friends). While women in Europe and America were only utilized in medical or administrative capacities until very recently in the military, they were occasionally utilized as front line fighters by the Russian military much earlier on. And although these women still faced harassment and were not generally treated as equals, there were a few, such as Mila, who were actually acknowledged for their contributions, which were extraordinary. In her case, she earned her moniker of “Lady Death” as a sniper, with an official head count of 309 Germans killed during the war (and probably more, in reality).

Quinn has become another of my favorite authors, uplifting strong women in history and bringing them into our consciousness. We can now appreciate, for example, how Lyudmila Pavlichenko not only contributed so bravely toward the fight against fascism with her rifle, but she also did so with her honesty and charm. Brought to America in a student delegation to help convince the US to open a second front in Europe to support the war against the Germans, she formed a personal friendship with both Eleanor and President Roosevelt. And though she shied away from the spotlight, she did not shirk her duties when it came to speaking up for gaining support for her fellow military fighters who were out in the field trying to protect what she felt were forces against evil.

I will say, while Quinn’s other novels truly grabbed me from the first page, this one took a bit of time for me to become fully absorbed. There was perhaps a bit more detail about the ammunition, war strategies, and the layout of the stakeouts than I might’ve needed personally (my eyes may have glazed over just a bit). But the suspense definitely built quickly enough, and there were a twists and surprises that caught me off guard, for sure. By the middle I was hooked and by the last few chapters, I was 100% riveted and could not put the book down until I finished it – including the author’s notes!

Quinn’s deeply researched novels consistently highlight how hard it has been for women to be acknowledged for even the most stunning achievements. She does this while keeping us engaged, entertained, and always wanting more.

I say it again – this is the very best way to learn history! And why I loved this book.

Lucy by the Sea by Elizabeth Strout

It is March of 2020 and Lucy has plans to leave for her promotional book tour. She is a bit taken aback when her ex-husband, William, a parasitologist, calls, insisting on her canceling her trip, packing a bag of clothing and work essentials, and joining him to stay in the house of a friend of his in Maine. He is concerned about this new deadly virus and feels they must leave the congestion of NYC in order to stay safe. She feels he is over-reacting – really, how long can this new virus really be a problem? – but he is also more knowledgeable than she is about this sort of thing, so she goes along with it, for the time being. Little does she know what is to come and how this decision would affect the course of the rest of her life.

Wow, I often don’t like to know what I’m going to be reading about in a book, but I wish I’d been warned about this one! This is definitely a “too soon” situation – since we are still living it. There are 42,000 reported cases per day today according to the New York Times (so presumably so many more, with home testing, states and individual localities not reporting their stats, etc.), thousands hospitalized with it, and hundreds dying of it per day in the US alone. And this is before we all go back indoors because of the approaching colder weather.

And then there’s the story itself, which has a contemplative, diary sort of feel. While Lucy adjusts to life in Maine, she also reflects back to her childhood of poverty and neglect, her strained relationships with her family, and her difficulties managing her success as an author. While it feels like there is not really a story here, the story does evolve gradually and organically and it does, perhaps a bit too slowly, pull you in.

What I appreciate here is that while there is acknowledgement of the political divide in the US at this time, it is done so with extraordinary delicacy. There is a clear understanding that Lucy and William appreciate science, wear masks, isolate, and observe the January 6th attack on the Capitol as a threat to democracy. However, Lucy does express a sensitivity to the anger expressed on January 6th. She relates to how poverty and its indignities can foster deep resentment, which incites violence such as that which erupted on that day. On the other hand, she concludes that this anger cannot justify the support of such radical extremism, Nazism, open racism, and overt hatred that was seen on that day either.

So while this was an interesting read, I cannot, in good conscience, recommend it for now. Maybe in a few years, when we’ve all recovered from our PTSD, it might serve as a warning, as a reminder of some sort. But it’s definitely too soon to be reading about what we’re all still being hit with on a daily basis.

Faith by Jennifer Haigh

Sheila has always harbored a soft spot for her brother Art, a tender-hearted guy always destined, it seemed, for the priesthood. His gentle manner, his lack of pursuit of earthly possessions beyond books, and his deep faith made him perfectly suited, even as she herself was filled with doubt. Sadly, though, when he was caught up in the maelstrom of accusations of child molestations by priests in Boston in the early 2000’s, even Sheila was forced to examine her own faith in her brother. Did she think he was capable of doing what he was accused of? What was the truth?

This novel was told with such authenticity that throughout the reading of it, I honestly believed that it was a true story written in novel format. Sheila’s character, her mom, her dad, Art – were all so real, so 3-dimentional, I felt this could have been a very plausible story of any of the priests accused of abuse at the time that so many were. 

The story has many layers that beg to be unpacked. One is the issue of celibacy in the priesthood, as is highlighted here, so radically conflicts with man’s natural, physical urge. Does this contribute to the abuse of women and/or children by priests? Who knows? It certainly would be interesting to see if things were to change if the celibacy rules were lifted. Wouldn’t it be worth that very experiment, given the lives it would impact? Who really benefits from a priest’s celibacy anyway? Certainly not the priests themselves, I would imagine, although I am the last person to actually know that for sure.

And what about the cover-up of all the priestly misdeeds by the church? Surely it occurs in other religions as well — it is not only the Catholic church —  but it has notoriously been present there for centuries. Because of the hierarchical structure of the church and the stringent code of silence among those involved, not to mention the power the church has had over so many over so long, it is not surprising that those who witness any wrongdoing are terrified to come forward in any sort of public way.  And even in that rare instance when one is found to be guilty of sin, there has merely been a notorious shifting around of the wrongdoer rather than actual punishment, so that the wrongdoer is not ever really held accountable or condemned. 

That said, as this story illuminates, not every priest who is accused is, in fact, guilty. Or at least not guilty of what they are accused of doing. Because of all of the revelations in the Boston diocese in the early 2000’s, we are likely to make assumptions about priests that are likely unfair, even cruel. In our country, thank heaven, we are still innocent until proven guilty. This is what this story is trying to highlight – and does so in a beautiful, profound way. Art has his own struggles, but they may be different from what we surmise.  We can never be inside another’s heart, but we must try to see what is their truth.

I think this is an important read in our time. Important to understand how we can be surprised by getting to know another’s actual circumstance, how we can be surprised by our own assumptions and prejudices. 

 

The Keepers of the House by Shirley Ann Grau

William Howland was one of many William Howlands, the name being passed down over generations of owners of his large plantation in his southern town. And knowing he had a family name to uphold, he navigated his position with care, guiding those in his life using his money and influence quietly and sparingly. But politics in the south were never easy, especially when they were mixed with racial tensions, and William Howland and his family were not immune to this conundrum, no matter what his influence might bear. Just one small slip, just one small move and your whole life can be blown up before you.

This is a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel that blew me away – not in how amazing it was but in the fact that it won a Pulitzer. Yes, it ultimately was moving and yes, it ultimately was powerful. But my goodness it took getting through about 80% of the story to get to anything that was at all moving or powerful. One should not have to work that hard to get to the “good part!” I can understand that an author has to set the story up and build the foundation. But it should not take 80-85% of the story for anything of any significance to happen.

Moreover, the characters felt distant, not anyone we were able to get to know. William Howland seemed to float through life in a fog – so much so that we were kept from knowing him as well. As for his love and partner, Margaret, another main character, we know great detail about her origins but once she enters his life, she suddenly becomes a figure, a shadow – we lose her, sadly. She loses herself, her identity. This is a wasted opportunity, in my opinion, because she is probably the most interesting character in this story. On the other hand, the author opts rather to focus on William’s granddaughter, Abigail, who is shallow, dull and only seems to wake up at the very end of the story.

I will note that ultimately we do get there. It does build into a climax that is powerful and interesting. It just takes WAY too long to get there.

I apparently differ greatly from the Pulitzer judges of 1965. I’d be curious to hear what others think.

 

The Alice Network by Kate Quinn

The dust has barely settled and wounds have certainly not yet healed from the second world war when Charlotte finds herself dragged by her mother across the Atlantic on the way to take care of her “Little Problem” in a clinic in Switzerland. While her mother is determined to erase this “stain” on Charlotte’s reputation, Charlotte has a very different mission in mind. While here in Europe, she sees an opportunity to uncover the whereabouts of her beloved cousin Rose, who has been missing and presumed dead since returning to France just before the German occupation. With the name and address of Eve Gardiner which she has scribbled on a small piece of paper, she unlocks an adventure that leads her to discovering much more than just what happened to Rose. She discovers a network of brave women who risked their lives for their countries and she uncovers her own inner strength as well.

The Alice Network is another suspenseful novel by the author of the Rose Code (see my prior entry), which will similarly have you on the edge of your seat as you turn each page. There is a great deal of historical fact woven into the fiction here, as Quinn celebrates the unsung female heroes of the first and second world wars.  We learn of the undercover spies that wore skirts and makeup instead of slacks and blazers. They were often ignored because they were “just women,” which sometimes enabled them to sneak through borders undetected, but sometimes led to them being ignored even when they carried valuable information that might have saved hundreds of lives. 

The writing here is crisp, acerbic and intricately plotted. We float back and forth between Charlotte’s pursuit in 1947 and Eve’s back story (WW I). The characters are, each of them, hardened and broken, wounded in one way or another by war. When we meet Eve, for example, she is in a drunken rage, threatening Charlotte with a Luger in her face and trying to send her away.  She is emotionally and physically crippled by her experience in her war.  We see so starkly how women were affected by our wars – whether working under cover, nursing, or being on the front lines in other ways – and their wounds are obviously just as deep. 

I highly recommend this novel – it is historical fiction at its best. 

Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell

When a Latin tutor gazes out a window, barely listening to his charges recite their verb conjugations, his eye catches sight of a bewitching woman with a falcon on her arm. Suddenly taken with her, he extricates himself from his classroom duties and goes to find her,  feels he needs to know who she is.  He soon comes to learn that this woman, Agnes, has a sense not only of birds, but of so much of nature,  human nature, and natural remedies – more than most. It is only when tragedy upends their lives when they both learn that one can only control so much of what happens in nature and that man will always have limitations.  

Underneath this love story is also a fictional version of how the play, Hamlet, came to be written by William Shakespeare. The tutor, of course, is Shakespeare, and Hamnet is his son, a twin, who died at a young age of the Black Plague. The plot is vividly imagined and lovingly told, but it is no wonder that a tragedy was borne from it. It is a heart-wrenching story.  And not to worry – even knowing this, there are still a few twists that keep the reader guessing until the very end. 

For me, there was quite a bit of hype surrounding this book, which was maybe/maybe not deserved, so I don’t want to build it up for anyone else. But it is a worthwhile read, particularly if you like historical fiction.

I’d be very curious to hear what others felt about this one!