A Door in the Earth by Amy Waldman

How many of you remember when every book club in the country was discussing "Three Cups of Tea" and marveling at Greg Mortenson's story of being lost in northern Pakistan while hiking, rescued and nurtured by a nomad tribe, and returning to build a school? After he and his foundation took in billions of dollars that were ultimately misspent and the schools went unfinished or unused, investigations unearthed evidence of a great duping of American philanthropists and us readers. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_Cups_of_Tea

A similar plot line runs through Amy Waldman's latest novel after the fabulous, controversial 9/11 novel, "The Submission." "A Door in the Earth" is very different from the stark immediacy of "The Submission." It unspools slowly,

drawing you in like a fish on a line, until the fate of the various characters becomes an all-encompassing concern. 

Dr. Gideon Crane's memoir, "Mother Afghanistan," has, like Mortenson's, captured the imagination of American readers everywhere. It too, is a tale of landing in an outlying area of Afghanistan, being taken in by a large Muslim farming family, and then finding himself helpless when his host's wife dies during a difficult childbirth. Returning to the states, Crane creates a foundation that will raise funds for a women's clinic to be built back in the village to honor Fereshta and insure that no more poor, underserved women go without medical care again. 

Recent college graduate Parveen Shamsa is primed to fall under Dr. Crane's charismatic spell. Born in Kabul but raised in Berkeley, California, she has vague dreams of doing great work in anthropology in some far-flung country that would welcome her expertise with open arms. Africa? Brazil? Micronesia? Never, until now, had she even considered her Afghani heritage as anything but a fact to be rebelled against. Now she's determined to follow in Crane's footsteps. She will live with Waheed, Fereshta's husband, and his new wife Bina, study the needs of the village women and help out at the clinic. 

Of course Shamsa is woefully unprepared for the restrictions she faces as an unattached female in a male dominated society, not to mention the depravations of daily living in a  tiny home where six children all sleep in the same room. When she insists on her privacy she is relegated the a dirt-floored goat's pen. Still, as the days and weeks go by and Shamsa gamely insinuates herself into the community, we begin to realize that maybe she's made of sterner stuff than we thought. 

Waldman provides a good deal of backstory about Afghanistan's history, the endless wars, the influence of the Taliban on the smaller villages, and the constant fear of the encroaching American troops. We learn about village politics, small-time corruption, and slowly we come to understand that Crane's iconic book has little basis in reality. Shamsa understands from the doctor who comes once a week to the clinic that there are no paid employees and few supplies, and that the big white building that diminishes even the mosque in scope is just a shallow symbol of American interference and appeasement in a misunderstood country.

Waldman reported from Afghanistan after 9/11 for the New York Times so her fiction has a ring of authenticity to it. Waldman creates a feeling of impending doom even as she describes a village teeming with wise, funny, women and children who witness too much loss, way too soon. She beautifully articulates the complexity involved when one nation attempts to "win hearts and minds" in another and even when the violence comes, as you know that it will, she maintains a nuanced perspective, avoiding the blame game. 

Thanks so much to Jessica Girlando for my autographed copy, picked up at Book Expo last summer in New York. I can't believe it's been sitting unattended on my bookshelf here in Florida but I'm so glad I finally picked it up!

Eight Perfect Murders to Get Your Mind Off Our Troubles

If the name Patricia Highsmith gives you the creeps, if Agatha Christie brings out your inner sleuth, if Nero makes you think of Rex Stout, then Peter Swanson has a delicious mystery read for you. "Eight Perfect Murders" is the title of an

old blog post written by bookseller Malcolm Kershaw as a sales pitch for his favorite, impossible to solve murder mysteries. 

Now the FBI is at the door of The Old Devils, Mal's Boston bookstore, asking questions about him and that long ago essay. According to agent Gwen Mulvey, a series of unexplained murders seems to follow a pattern, one that led her to Mal's old blog post and a bad feeling about this supposed expert in crime fiction. Appealing to his vanity, Gwen entices Mal to help her with the investigation by reading over the crime scene documents and matching them to the various novels that made his perfect list. 

 

As Mal heads home and settles in for an evening of deep reading on the cases, we, the reader, are privy to his every thought. By the end of chapter four we know that Mal is actually familiar with one of the victims and that he feels it's likely that the perpetrator of the crimes may actually know him. His final statement before nodding off on the couch is,

 "I had to begin to protect myself." 

Hmmmm. From here on in you'd do well to take everything Mal says with a grain of salt. But wait, he's a book lover who's sharing all his passion and expertise with us. He can't be the bad guy, can he? What about the quiet, unassuming part time employee at the Old Devils, Emily Barsamian? No one knew much about her. And then there's co-owner and fading author Brian Murray who rarely comes around, spending most of his time on a stool at the bar at the Beacon Hill Hotel. Before long Mal is leading us deep into the dark web where one can barter for most any service and soon no one is who they appear to be. 

Now, I have to tell you, Swanson's book is a light, fun read with an eye to distracting oneself from the apocalyptic news cycle but it is in no way a thriller. Any self-respecting mystery reader will guess a good bit of the plot long before the advertised "final stunning conclusion." One of my pet peeves is authors who feel compelled to write over the top, outrageously exaggerated blurbs for the friends novels. They do the author a disservice actually. The reader can't help but be disappointed when the novel doesn't meet expectations. 

So let's just say, if you love the smell of bookstores, enjoy cat and mouse crime fiction, or have a thing for New England in the wintertime, then by all means pick up a copy of Swanson's latest. As I said, it's clever, it's fun, and you'll get a great reading list of true mystery masterpieces. 

Afterlife by Julia Alvarez

Can there be anything worse than waiting for a loved one who never arrives? Getting that phone call? An accident. A sudden illness. A stroke? A heart attack? The prologue to "Afterlife," the much anticipated new novel from author, professor, and activist Julia Alvarez acts like a gut punch. Antonia, just retired

from her teaching job at a well-known Vermont college (much like Alvarez herself) is waiting in a favorite restaurant for a celebratory meal with her husband Sam, a meal that will not happen.

Nine months later Antonia is struggling. Her three sisters who are scattered around the country are each responsible for touching base with her on a certain day. Old friends include her in their dinner parties which she finds interminable. Others walk on eggshells when in her presence. All Antonia wants is be alone with her memories but we sense that life won't allow that happen.

Two disparate storylines unfold, the first centers around the so-called sisterhood, the often tense but always close relationship that Antonia has with her siblings. Informed by their Dominican upbringing, these women have strong views on how each other should live their lives and right now they need to stage an intervention with Izzy, the erratic one, who may suffer from bi-polar syndrome. But Antonia has to protect her own fragile well-being, lean into the grieving process, and keep a distance from her family's drama.

 Then a very different and more compelling section of the novel arises in the form of Mario, a young Mexican man sent from her well-meaning neighbor to help clear the gutters, a job Sam always handled. Antonia hesitates - is Mario even here legally? Sam, always sitting on her shoulder, would have said go ahead, don't worry, step out of your comfort zone. And so Antonia does, and before long Mario is confiding in her like a mother and somehow Antonia is saying yes, she'll foot the bill for Mario's girlfriend and pay the coyote to bring her to the states and then to Vermont.

Alvarez is disarmingly honest in her writing. She sensitively portrays a woman who, though proud of her Dominican heritage, does not want to be taken advantage of for it. She feels the tug of resentment at feeling suddenly responsible for these other lives, Mario, and now a pregnant Estella, when she isn't even sure where her own life is going. And anger! Oh yes, she's mad at Sam. How could he leave her in this predicament?

There's a lot going on in this relatively short novel. Alvarez has previously examined sibling relationships that resemble her own family, specifically in  "How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accent," and "In the Time of the Butterflies," but in her new book I found the sisters' story jarring when compared to the timely and complicated subject of legal and illegal immigration, anchor babies, and what, if anything, we owe to these new, hardworking young people who arrive on our shores seeking a better life. 

The book comes out in April and is receiving glowing praise from all quarters. I admit that I'm still mulling it over weeks after having finished it. I would love to hear from Alvarez fans and those who may be new to her work. "Afterlife" will be a great choice for book groups everywhere when and if we begin meeting again in person. Stay well everyone!

Southwest Florida Reading Festival - Twenty One Years Later

No! It's just not possible! Could it really be twenty-one years since I was a Lee County Library System employee who couldn't wait to get involved in this wild new endeavor. A reading festival - free to all - outdoors on the banks of the Caloosahatchee. It was a dream come true and so much fun and all because a librarian with a penchant for talking about books to anyone and everyone had a vision. Thank you Lesa Holstine. https://lesasbookcritiques.blogspot.com/

The reading festival has been through several iterations over the years and I've been retired for six of them but I still try to be sure I'm in town when it rolls around. What a great opportunity to get up close and personal with writers. High on my list of must-see authors was William Kent Kreuger whose novel "This Tender Land" was on my top ten list for 2019. https://bit.ly/2IvXAGg

What a pure delight to discover that every conclusion I drew about Mr. Kreuger from reading his hauntingly beautiful book was on full display. He exuded such enthusiasm, such unadulterated joy at the crowd there to hear him, at the gorgeous day, and at the power of storytelling. Stories, he reminded us, can educate, enlighten, entertain, and inspire. But most important of all he said, citing both Jesus and Dr. Seuss, stories give us hope. 

Though he's best known for the long-running and highly successful Cork O'Connor mystery series, it was the book his publisher didn't want but that he wrote anyway, "Ordinary Grace," that started him on the path to stand alone novels. Thank goodness for us readers! 

Much of Kreuger's writing is informed by his life in St. Paul, Minnesota, and his interest in the indigenous culture of the Ojibwe people who are prominently featured in Louise Erdrich's work as well. In a brief reference to the current controversies over cultural appropriation in literature Kreuger told us that he has several of his Ojibwe friends read his manuscripts to ensure that he hasn't inadvertently erred through insensitivity or inauthenticity. I rather doubt that he ever could.

A very different experience followed when I visited the giant tent set up for Erik Larson. It was his second time appearing at the festival, he previously spoke to a standing room only crowd of six hundred in the Harborside event center where the festival used to be held. Maybe he hadn't been told that we were going to be outdoors in a less formal setting, though I'd bet there were at least three hundred of us seated and many more standing, Larson seemed stodgy and dry at the lectern compared to Kreuger's wandering the stage and taking selfies with the audience.  

At the end of what he called "his coronavirus tour," Larson was probably very tired of talking about "The Splendid and the Vile," his latest addition to the enormous amount of material written about Winston Churchill. But, he assured

us, his greatest joy is getting down and dirty in the archives and there he found enough treasure to write a compelling and very personal tale of Churchill and his family as they experienced the horrific "blitz," the unrelenting bombing raids by the German Luftwaffe from late 1940 through 1941. 

It wasn't until Larson told of gaining access to Churchill's daughter Mary's very revealing letters about her sexual escapades that the audience perked up and began to pay attention. And, in fact, for those of us who've been binge watching "The Crown," this tale of a family's courage and perseverance behind the scenes at number 10 Downing, at the famed country home Chequers, and at the more secret hideaway Ditchley really does sounds like a fascinating read. I plan to forgive Larson his pedantry and place a hold on his new book right now!

The Alchemy of Noise by Lorraine Devon Wilke

I still haven't gotten my copy of "American Dirt" from the library but while listening to a heated yet thoughtful discussion of the novel's cultural appropriation controversy on NPR last month https://www.npr.org/2020/01/27/800092442/what-the-controversy-over-american-dirt-tells-us-about-publishing-and-authorship I was introduced to "The Alchemy of Noise," a fabulous title by the way, by Lorraine Devon Wilke.

Ms. Wilke was being interviewed because she is a white author who wrote a novel featuring a strong black male character. She spoke of the difficulty she encountered when shopping for an agent. It seems no one wants to touch any book in these troubled times that appears "racially problematic." Kudos to She

Writes Press for publishing this sensitively written novel about an interracial couple in present day Chicago, authentic because it's based upon Wilke's own experiences during a long-term interracial relationship.

I loved these characters, Sidonie Frame, manager of an event space that hosts all the parties where Chicago's movers and shakers go to see and be seen, and Chris Hawkins, owner of the sound company Sidonie hires to ensure that every speech given, every band performing, and every DJ spinning in her venue sound perfect.

I loved watching their slow dance, circling eachother but wary of acknowledging the attraction, not because she is white and he is black but because she is his boss. When they do fall full on in love they remain circumspect about showing their affection at work but it's not long before racial profiling rears its ugly head, first through small microaggressions and then through a terrifying, violent encounter with the police based upon a case of mistaken identity. Before long both their jobs will be in jeopardy.

Unless you've been there as I have been for over fifteen years now, I don't believe a white reader can remotely imagine how spot on Wilke's depiction of every day life in Chris Hawkins' shoes is. Arriving at Sidonie's club for his first day of work he's taken for a cab driver. Walking in the evening in Sidonie's neighborhood he's stopped by the police who question his presence. As he hefts  a new TV up the front steps of their home a nosy neighbor turns him in for burglary. 

These daily insults to a man's basic humanity can destroy the soul and we watch the toll they take on Chris and by default on Sidonie. Especially fraught and stomach churning is a scene we see oh too often on the evening news in which their car is pulled over for no discernible reason, Sidonie  trembling as she observes the oft-practiced slow breathing tecnique Chris employs to keep from losing it.

A realistic secondary plot involves Chris's volatile sister Vanessa, a black lives matter activist whose justified anger and passion at the injustice she witnesses every day, follow her home imperiling her marriage. Then there's Sidonie's mom, recently widowed and dating a man whose prejudices result in a rift with her own daughter.

This novel, called a lesson in Racisim 101, is a devastating look at at a love affair buffeted by the daily indignities suffered by blacks in America and the naive danger imposed upon those of us with a white privilege we neither acknowdege nor earn. I did not want it to end because I did not want it to end badly. In fact, my only criticism is that Wilke ultimately holds out more hope for the future than I can currently summon.