Auntie Poldi and the Sicilian Lions by Mario Giordano

[Trans. by John Brownjohn]

Rating: 3 & ½ Stars

Auntie Poldi is newly transplanted to Sicily from her native Munich. Despondent from the recent death of her husband and several financial setbacks, Poldi has decided to drink herself to death. And she has chosen Sicily as the perfect backdrop for her demise. The mystery begins when her young handyman is found with his face nearly blown apart by an old mafia-style weapon. The only problem is that there aren’t any Mafiosi in Giordano’s modern Sicily. But even if there were, Poldi is not the kind of woman to back down from them.

Auntie Poldi is an unconventional detective by any consideration. A grieving widow with a lust for life and a weakness for handsome policemen, she lurches around Sicily in a regularly inebriated condition. Still, she always has enough clarity to ask the right questions; and the chutzpah to bother the wrong kind of people with her relentless demands for answers. Grief and depression always loom in the background of her mind. Nevertheless, Poldi has a vitality that has her greeting life with her usual, “Namaste!”

Perhaps like me, you too have bought into the clichés about Italy and the Italian people – their joie de vivre, love of famila, love of food, their dramatic flair,  and, the ardor of their romantic affairs. Well, make no mistake about it; this book continues to perpetuate all those stereotypes. Reading this novel has left me craving marzipan, and Sicilian style almond-milk.

Poldi is assisted in her investigations by her quartet of helpful in-laws; and her sounding board is her nephew who is wrestling with himself to conjure up a literary masterpiece that seems a strange hybrid of ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ and ‘Odyssey’. This nephew also does double-duty as the first-person narrator of this novel – an unwieldy and needless technical device. The climax is unabashedly deus ex machina. But these minor flaws aside, the book is an undemanding charmer; its most winsome attribute being its eccentric, loveable heroine. Namaste, Poldi!

The Edge of Everything by Jeff Giles

Rating: 3 & ½ Stars

“Do not even make fun of my star-crossed supernatural love.”

There is a point in a novel, that you were feeling neutral about, that tips you either for, or against it. The wry self-awareness of this sentence, almost towards the end of the book, was what won me over. Not that there is anything mediocre about Jeff Giles first novel. It proves to be a promising start to an interesting new Young Adult series.

Teenager Zoe Bissell has had a rough few months starting with the death of her beloved elderly neighbors, then compounded by the loss of her father in a caving accident. On a stormy night, she meets a stranger whom she dubs X – a bounty hunter from the Lowlands, the hellish underworld in this story.

As you may guess, the path of true love does not run smooth. But the obstacles conspiring to keep the two apart are interesting enough to merit sequels. In Zoe and X, we have two young protagonists who are plucky, vulnerable, passionately in love, and caring about the others in their lives.

To be honest, it was the last part that I found especially endearing. This romance is not just about two self-absorbed little twits – that they have a life and interests outside of each other keeps thing real. 

A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman

[Translated from the Swedish by Henning Koch]

Rating: 3 & ½ Stars

This sweetheart of a novel from Sweden marks Fredrik Backman’s debut into the literary world. Hugely popular in Europe since its publication in 2012, it has charmed American readers as well. Its appeal is transparent – a feel-good book with depth and insight, and just enough orneriness to keep it from becoming too clichéd.

Ove himself does seem a little familiar at first glance – a grumpy man, hopelessly behind the times, fanatically insisting on rules that no one else seems to care about. He’s a man one respects, a man one feels sorry for, a man about whom one might make a light-hearted joke – he’s not necessarily someone you like.

But Ove has a secret. His late wife, Sonja, knew it; and by the middle of the book, the reader starts suspecting it too; long before getting the official confirmation in the final chapter – a confirmation that sends his neighbor, Parvaneh, into a fit of inappropriately hysterical laughter.

The reasons for this book’s popularity are visceral. It strikes an instant chord – on true love, real friendship, the meaning of community – all the right stuff. However, to its credit, it doesn’t gloss over the inherent unfairness of the world; a world where terrible things happen to good people all the time; the systemic indifference of bureaucracies that fail those it’s meant to help; and, where without being actually evil, people exhibit varying degrees of obnoxiousness.

Ove, who has been a fighter all his life, has finally reached the point where he doesn’t want to fight anymore. With his beloved Sonja gone, all he wants is to call it quits, but finds it impossible to do so. People keep insinuating themselves into his life - needing help, needing guidance, needing somebody to fight for them. To a man who has fearlessly done the right thing all his life, it’s not easy to do anything else. Ove may have given up on life, but Life refuses to give up Ove.

The book does stumble here and there. While subtle and understated in its depiction of the different layers of human complexity, the humor does come off as occasionally clumsy and farcical. Backman’s depiction of women and children also borders on caricature. But those are minor flaws when the writing breathes a heart and soul into this story of what it truly means to live the good life.

Discussion Questions for this book at:

http://noa-betweenthelines.blogspot.com/2014/11/fredrik-backmans-man-called-ove.html

Gorky Park by Martin Cruz Smith

Rating: 3 & ½ Stars

Martin Cruz Smith’s ‘Gorky Park’ was a best-seller when it was first published in 1981, and had critics hailing the writer as America’s answer to John LeCarré. While the author may not have intended the book as a historical mystery, thirty years since its publication and after the dissolution of the former U.S.S.R., it can perhaps be qualified as such today.

Arkady Renko, Senior Homicide Investigator of the Soviet militia is assigned to solve the mystery of three frozen bodies found in Gorky Park. Renko, suspecting the involvement of the KGB and its sinister agent, Major Pribluda, is unenthusiastic about a case that seems certain to be headed to a dead end. Despite his reluctance, he’s drawn further into the murders that have seemingly inexplicable international connections, and increasingly point to corruption and treachery at the highest levels.

Though the latter half of the book seems to drag on for far longer than necessary, Smith does successfully engross the reader's attention for the most part. There may be suggestions of homicidal maniacs on the loose, but in the end, the motives are coldly practical, and the plot’s sense of urgency intensifies till it reaches its crescendo. Apparently, MCS engaged in seven years of research to complete this novel, and very often his style is dazzling, so subtly does his Soviet Union get under our skin.

The author’s Russia pre-dated Gorbachev’s perestroika, and highlights the slippery terrain Renko has to navigate. Smith’s portrayals irked the U.S.S.R enough to list him as a ‘dangerous agent provocateur’. There are disturbing vignettes of people being tortured for trivialities, efficiency-stifling bureaucracy, and women practicing clandestine birth-control and serial abortions in a nation where government fiats demand patriotic procreation. Renko, like so many of his fellow countrymen can neither criticize nor condone the misgoverning of his country.

One appeal of this book is the character of the chain-smoking Arkady Renko withering in a loveless marriage that’s grown on him like yet another bad habit, and helplessly attracted to a woman who might very well be the end of him. He’s seen enough of violence and brutality without letting it contaminate his own character; and though he’s prudent enough to be a card-carrying party member, he has too much integrity to ingratiate himself to further his career.

The government’s anti-capitalist propaganda is in sharp contrast to the rampant black-marketing and the hungry consumerism of the population. In contrast to Arkady, his best friend, Misha, is venal, yet likable. He doesn’t hesitate to play the system and keep his own life as comfortably afloat as he can - a state of affairs where some are definitely more equal than others.

The Godfather by Mario Puzo

Rating: 4 Stars

‘The Godfather’ is one of those books that leave me awash in memories – how the first time I read it, I finished it in one breathless sitting; how my friends and I discussed character and motive with a passion that better students would have reserved for Shakespeare; and more recently the recurrent allusions to the book and movie versions that echo in other icons of popular culture – be it ‘Seinfeld’, ‘The Simpsons’, or the various movies that are unself-conscious in referencing this work. The chance to read it again was an offer I couldn’t refuse.

The book begins with the wedding of Vito Corleone’s daughter. While FBI agents parked outside the house take note of the guests, the Don accepts the homage of underworld vassals and hears the entreaties of supplicants. The Godfather, Don Corleone, the head of the most powerful of New York’s five mafia Families dispenses justice like an ancient god, either smiting mightily or granting favors according to his discretion. But even gods fade out of fashion, and neither the Don’s legendary sagacity nor his sons’ fierce loyalty can withstand the changes surging upon the fortunes of the Corleone family.

One reason for this book’s visceral appeal is the effortless ease with which it taps into our fascination with power - power untrammeled by feeble notions of legality, or the greater good, for in the Don’s mind, he is the greater good. Yet, a closer glance reveals that Puzo is not an unsophisticated writer waxing eloquent about the glories of violent aggrandizement. In this world everyone pays the price; every victory comes at a cost.

‘The Godfather’ is a rare example of a book whose understanding would be incomplete without its movie version, and it needs to be said that while the book may be an engrossing read it’s the movies that are true works of art. Partly the credit for the movies too belongs to the author because Mario Puzo co-wrote the screenplays for The Godfather and The Godfather II, in both instances sharing the Oscar award for Adapted Screenplay with Francis Ford Coppola, the director. Whereas in the book the consequences of the ruthless pursuit of ambition were merely hinted at, with the cinematic adaptation the author is able to complete the narrative arc he had started.

While Puzo freely admitted that his motive behind writing ‘The Godfather’ was to make money, yet he shows flashes of brilliance in limning human nature, and in his plot construction. There is an operatic crescendo to the waxing and waning of the Corleone family’s power from the onset to the brilliant climax. If Vito Corleone is portrayed as a Machiavellian Robin Hood, the concept of original sin colors the depiction of all the characters in the novel, both major and minor. The teetotaler family man who supports many dependents and carefully plans his children’s education happens to be a corrupt cop; the battered wife is a shrill, self-serving harridan; kind-hearted Sonny, who is incapable of lifting a finger against the truly defenseless is also a savagely brutal mobster – these richly swirling complexities give hue and depth to the novel that redefined Family and family business.

One for the Money by Janet Evanovich

Book Club Pick – Jan. 2013

Jersey gal, Stephanie Plum, may be broke but she's too feisty to shy away from doing what has to be done. She takes up a job as a bounty hunter with her cousin, Vinnie. Her first assignment is tracking down Joe Morelli who has jumped bail and is wanted for murder. Morelli also happens to be the one who deflowered the teenage Stephanie several years back, and she still harbors some unresolved feelings for him. Her pursuit of Joe leads here to shady neighborhoods and dangerous characters; but she is determined to get her man, and more importantly, her money.

Along the way, Plum sustains some injury and humiliation, but also learns a bit of self-defense. When we see Morelli breaking his cover to save her neck, and cooking an appetizing meal for his would-be captor, you pretty much realize that this is the start of, if not a beautiful friendship, at least some sexual tension that will simmer through several books, leaving the reader to guess at the possible culmination of their relationship.

This is the first of Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum novels. The reasons for the popularity of the series are understandable with the likable protagonist, the recreation of a tough New Jersey that stays true to its stereotypes, and, the combination of broad humor and quick-witted action.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

Rating: 4 Stars

It had me at the first page, and kept me hooked till the last. So many ‘suspense’ novels telegraph their grand climax well before the reader is half-way through that, we nearly forget the enjoyable sensation of being kept on tenterhooks. It’s nice to get an occasional reminder once in a while.

Nick Dunne, on the day of his fifth anniversary returns home to find his wife, Amy, missing. He calls in the police, and the search begins in the small town of Carthage, Missouri. The evidence points all too damningly to the usual suspect in such cases. While there may be more than one side to any story, Nick’s perspective on his tottery marriage and his spouse does not win him much sympathy. The scariest place to be is inside someone’s head, and Flynn leads us into the darkest nooks and crannies of her protagonists’. The distinction between being a self-absorbed jerk and a narcissistic psychopath may be merely a difference of degrees.

Predictably the hunt for Amy soon turns into the usual media circus; with ratings-hungry talk-show hosts quivering with self-righteous outrage, slick attorneys, and casual acquaintances avid for their fifteen minutes in the spotlight.

Gone Girl scores an enviable double whammy. It’s a thriller that beckons with a promise of sexy, wicked fun, and before we know it, has us by the throat with its ferocious intelligence and startlingly acute insight.

There are some questionable angles, but it’s easy to overlook those when the author has gratified in so many other respects. One of the charms of this book is the way it slyly upends clichés – the lawyer who is the go-to guy for uxoricide suspects is apparently happily married; romance’s cherished ideal of a knight in shining armor is not every girl’s idea of the perfect man; incorrigible love-birds are annoying to the rest of us, as Nick nastily remarks on his grieving in-laws "cherishing each other" every chance they get. And while hope may be ‘the thing with feathers’, love can and does sport scales, fangs, and claws.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

Rating: 3 Stars

It’s been a while since I read a Young Adult book. I wasn’t planning on reading this one either despite the wave of publicity generated by the movie release; except that the young adults in my house attested to its overall excellence, advising me to read the first book and skip the other two in the trilogy. Word of mouth publicity from trusted sources; it still works.

‘The Hunger Games’ has the needful ingredients for a teen adventure – a dystopia where the brave child/quasi adult must battle oppressive forces, and in the process discover the hero within. In Collins’ version, a Post-Apocalyptic North America has been renamed Panem, and fragmented into twelve districts. These districts are required by law to provide two contestants each to participate in the annual Hunger Games. What ensues is a fight to the finish where the last one left standing is declared winner. The winner is then apparently set for life, and for one year his/her district will receive a generous largesse of much-needed food and other necessities. And oh yes, the whole thing will be telecast live. That’s a definite nod in the direction of a generation of readers fed a diet of reality game-shows and live war-coverage.

Panem is a totalitarian society and the Hunger Games are not so much diversion, but a brutal reminder to the people as to who sways the decision of life or death over its citizens. Our narrator, Katniss Everdeen, finds herself catapulted into the Games by a single act of valor. Katniss is an ambiguous heroine - bleakly self-sufficient one minute, vulnerable the next. This girl from District 12 is an experienced hunter, and girds her loins to the task at hand like any hairy-chested man of action. Except of course, she isn’t. To prove that point Collins devotes ample prose to the princessification of Katniss, who enjoys her spa treatments and coterie of personal stylists like any salon-deprived girl from the boondocks would.

I’ll say one thing for it – the book is a page-turner. The pace is edge-of-your-seat, and the action rarely slows. The premise is an archetype – part 1984, part Lord of the Flies, with older antecedents if you’re so inclined to look for it. The much hyped violence quotient is not hype after all. It’s fairly unsettling, and probably better suited for more mature readers, but don’t try telling that to your middle-school kids. It will probably be the surest way to have them scrambling to read it. On the other hand, talking about the book could lead to some great discussions about Darwinism vis-à-vis Human Civilization. 

Shogun by James Clavell



Rating: 4 Stars

The last book I read that was as exciting as James Clavell’s ‘Shogun’ was…well, it was that other Clavell book I read. Like Tai-Pan, this book is also inspired by historical events. The story’s protagonist is based on  an English navigator,William Adams,  who became a trusted advisor to the 17^th. Century Shogun, Tokugawa Ieyasu.

At the start of the seventeenth century, John Blackthorn, the English Pilot-Major of the Dutch ship, the ‘Erasmus’ finds himself and his surviving crew run aground on Japanese shores. While Blackthorn finds himself desperately trying to succor assistance from his hosts, he has to keep at bay the Portuguese merchant marines who have already carved a niche in trading with Japan, and will jealously guard their hegemony at all costs. Adding to the complications, Blackthorn has to rely on the interpreting skills of fanatical Jesuit priests, the rare few Europeans who have learnt the Japanese language in their self-anointed mission to convert the heathens of the world to the Catholic faith.

The Japanese daimyos (feudal lords) and the samurai warriors Blackthorn encounters are little impressed with Western claims to empire-building. They are however very interested in the concept of naval warfare and how it could tip the balance in their favor in their own power struggles. It is either the Europeans’ rotten luck or golden opportunity, depending on how you look at it, that they become embroiled in a game of thrones where many heads will roll before the outcome is settled.

Clavell is a master story-teller. I’ve not come across many other writers who have his unique combination of sophisticated plot, intelligent synthesis of history and fiction, engaging characterization, and blood-tingling action. But reader beware, ‘Shogun’ is no easy-reading treat. It’s neither for the faint-hearted, nor for those with attention-deficit handicaps. There are stomach-turning descriptions of violence; and countless names, vendettas, and historical events to keep in mind. The book is marginally excellent and would have been more so, if Clavell had trimmed it by a third and provided a glossary for reference. It’s saying a lot that despite these flaws, ‘Shogun’ stands head and shoulders above much of contemporary fiction.

 ‘Civilization’ is after only a matter of perspective. Blackthorn may be confounded by the Japanese alacrity to shed blood at the least provocation; the Japanese are puzzled by the sectarian differences within the Christian religion, and by much of Christian theology. Each race is understandably horrified and disgusted by the cuisine and sanitation habits of the other. But in the end, as in Tai-Pan, here too, Clavell proves dear old Kipling wrong – East and West shall meet, and it is their mutual destiny to be repelled, fascinated, and ultimately enriched by the contact.

The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach



Rating: 3 Stars

fielding: (in cricket/baseball) – to catch or pick up the ball in play

I’m very unfamiliar with the world of sports, and am generally bemused by anything to do with it. It brings many questions to my mind – about the fervor of fans who proclaim their loyalty by plonking cheese-like wedges on their heads and donning body-paint; about the intriguing nexus between sports and beer ads; about big, strong athletes who rough up women; about rich football players who opt to make even more money with dog-fights; about coaches who turn a blind eye when children are being egregiously harmed before them; and, most recently, about the college students who riot like berserkers on campus objecting to the firing of said coaches. It’s at those times that I realize no matter how whole-heartedly I embrace this country, in some ways, I’ll always be a stranger in a strange(r) land.

However, there are many others who enthusiastically follow sports around the year, and not just when the latest scandal explodes across the headlines. Chad Harbach’s novel, ‘The Art of Fielding’ is set in a fictional Wisconsin, liberal-arts college – Westish. The Westish baseball team, the Harpooners, receives a shot in the arm with the enrollment of Henry Skrimshander, a phenomenally gifted shortstop, who seems to field with unerring instinct. Skrimshander is discovered by Mike Schwartz, the Captain of the Harpooners. Schwartz abilities lie in honing raw talent, and Skrimshander obediently submits himself to his friend’s mentoring.

Henry’s prospects of turning pro seem like a sure thing, but in his junior year, he makes a jarring error on the field which erodes his confidence, and seemingly, unravels his very sense of self.

Harbach’s writing is fresh, and will appeal to readers inclined towards either literature or athletics. One of the book’s little idiosyncrasies is the frequent allusion to a fictional work, called ‘The Art of Fielding’ by a fictional baseball player, Aparicio Rodriguez, which is replete with Zen-like aphorisms that Henry commits to memory. Whether readers will be similarly inspired or merely irritated by the ersatz profundity is arguable.

Though the book is well-written and intelligently crafted, certain parts of it did come off sounding like an assignment from a creative writing class. The characterization is a little uneven – some like Mike Schwartz and Henry’s room-mate, Owen Dunne, are penned with an unhesitant hand. In other instances, the author fails to be wholly convincing. When one of the main characters finds himself, for the first time in his life, in the grips of a surprising passion, a sceptical critic might call it implausible, unlikely, or inexplicable. But I’ll try to absorb the relationship in the spirit of the romantic that I’m not, and confess that in its tenderness, eroticism, and yearning, it seems to be the genuine article.

However, it did leave me with one final question – is it possible to go through life being unaware of certain vital truths about oneself? Or to put it another way, how likely is it that a player would go through nine innings before he realizes that he’s been batting for the wrong team? That would be a sad waste of play time.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy by John Le Carre



Rating: 3 & ½ Stars

The last Le Carre novel that I read was ‘The Constant Gardener’. Much as I admired the deep intelligence and wounded conscience that pervaded the book, I remember feeling a little at a disadvantage in the first few chapters; a sensation of having to hop, skip, and jump in an attempt to keep pace with a plot that seemed to assume that the reader was already clued in on key events and characters. To the author’s credit, he filled in the details in due time. With Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy I felt the same initial mystification, but despite his elusive opening acts Le Carre is a reliable guide in the shadowy world of international espionage.

George Smiley defeats the Hollywood concept of what a spy should be. Mild-mannered, unfailingly courteous, and cuckolded in his personal life, Smiley suffers no delusions of machismo. His career suffered collateral damage from a botched operation instigated by his former boss, and he has been put out to pasture by the British Intelligence service. That changes when former colleagues come calling on him for assistance. Apparently, his maligned ex-boss was on to something after all. Ricki Tarr, an agent once recruited by Smiley turns up compelling evidence that the highest levels of the Intelligence Service has been infiltrated by a spy, code-named 'Gerald', working for the Soviet Union. Smiley is assigned the job of ferreting out the mole, and cleaning house.

The Cold War which dominated so many decades of the past century already seems far away, so one might wonder if this book, published in 1974, qualifies as historical fiction. Le Carre seems to prefer the term ‘informed fantasy’, and certainly he should know. He was recruited by the British Intelligence Service fresh out of university, and worked for both MI5 and then, MI6 till 1964, where like George Smiley, he ran agents and conducted interrogations, among other things. The mole of the novel, ‘Gerald’ is based on real-life British agent, ‘Kim’ Philby who passed secrets to the Russians, before officially defecting to the Soviet Union in 1963.

Not only is this is a book shorn of glamor, Le Carre shows a tangible ambiguity about the moral assertions of the Cold War players. The world of the spies on either side is a grubby one, based on duplicity and treachery. If the ‘hero’ is a quietly methodical man focused on the job at hand, the ‘bad guys’ on the other side are not noticeably more flamboyant.

 What I’m trying to say is, those readers who look forward to jet-setting spies scoring non-stop action either in the form of bodacious babes or cartoonish super-villains might find this a slow read. What appealed to me about the book is the tensile intelligence that seems to be such a marked characteristic of Le Carre’s writing, but the spies’ world he portrays is a humdrum one; ambition, political maneuvering, greed, gossip, backstabbing…are things much better where you work? The one small difference being, of course, that here, the backstabbing can be quite literal.

The Thorn Birds by Colleen McCullough



Rating: 3 Stars

Colleen McCullough’s ‘The Thorn Birds’ is one of the biggest best-sellers to come out of Australia, that enjoyed even greater popularity in the 70’s after it was serialized for T.V.

The Cleary family – father Paddy, mother Fiona, and their brood of offspring - move from their native New Zealand to the not too distant shores of Australia at the invitation of Paddy’s wealthy elder sister - Mary Carson. They are for all intentions the heirs to Drogheda, Mary Carson’s sheep-ranch in New South Wales, and they learn to love the rough country that is their new home. Ten-year old Meggie Cleary, the only girl in the family, captures the benevolent attention of Father Ralph de Bricassart the handsome young Catholic priest of Gillanbone. Things get a little complicated as Meggie grows older. Bricassart is bothered both by Meggie’s virginal adoration of him, and his own changing feelings for her. Meggie’s dowager aunt, who also had her gimlet eye on Ralph, soon shows them the hellish fury of a woman scorned. Covering a span of more than half a century, the book is part romance, part family drama, past historical fiction.

What McCullough does well, she does very well indeed. She is excellent in the details: the minutiae of sheep-farming, cutting cane and life in the trenches of WW II add vibrant life to the story. McCullough’s Australia is a land that is at once harsh, yet beautiful, and her writing glides with the grace of a painter’s brush in its description of people, places, and abundant wild life.

Where she trips up is, perhaps, in characterization. This is a book teeming with people (700 pages requires a vast cast of characters), and some are depicted better than others. Considering that the star-crossed romance of Meggie and Ralph lies at the heart of the novel, the duo struck me as the weakest link. The relationship comes off as stilted and forced – an imitation of passion rather than the real thing. Ralph comes off as particularly flat and uninspiring.

What can I say? It just awakens my snarky side:

 when Meggie bemoans Ralph’s unwillingness to choose her over the Church – “(yawn) He’s a priest, you twit. Try to wrap your brain cells around that idea if you can.”

when Ralph risibly states that 'hundreds of women have wanted' him – “Yeah, right. I personally find it difficult to imagine the legions of women panting to defrock this man in black when he’s thrice described as (snigger) ‘flaccid’”

when the author shamelessly surrenders to her school-girl impulses, and pens innumerable fawning phrases on the awesome pulchritude of her protagonists - “Enough already! Handsome is as handsome does. Show me some character I can chew on!”

This is by no means a bad book. If only my inner critic would shut up, I would probably enjoy this type of novel more; but it won't and therefore I can't.

Anyway, my personal handicaps aside, many others did find this book entrancing. For no small reason is it ‘an international best seller’. Strong, long-suffering matriarchs; tragic irony; poetic justice; parallel situations; one too many cases of apples not falling too far from the tree; power; money; and, forbidden love  – it’s no epic, but it’s one heck of a multi-generational soap-operatic family saga, with surprisingly good writing to boot.



And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie

‘Sakhi’ Book Club September 2011 Pick

“It was so difficult to do that the idea had fascinated me…I wrote the book after a tremendous amount of planning, and I was pleased with what I had made of it.”- Agatha Christie on ‘And Then There Were None’

Christie had reason to be gratified with how the book had turned out. First published in 1939 with a much more offensive title, of all the Queen of Mystery’s novels, this was her most popular work, with a hundred million sales. Original in concept, it is also considered among her best.

Ten people of varying backgrounds, most of whom have never met each other, are invited by a mysterious host to Soldier Island. Once there, they realize that they are at the mercy of a malevolent mastermind who knows all too much about them. For unsuspecting as they are, they are far from innocent. Each one has a skeleton rattling in their closet; and their unknown host seems privy to their guiltiest secrets. Very soon, people start to die, in grotesque accordance with a misanthropic and un-childlike rhyme. Who is going to be the last one left standing? Who could have done it?

Christie does not deceive with cheap tricks; she does leave her trail of clues, and all the evidence points to one suspect. Personally, for me, this was less of a whodunit, and more of a how-was-it-done, and that gets harder to configure as the bodies start piling up. Whether the plot stands up to the plausibility test is debatable, but the author astutely anticipates her critics' objections, and deftly parries most queries in the book's epilogue. The long and short of it is, Christie manages to pull off a superb trompe l'oeil on her readers.

Tai-Pan by James Clavell

Rating: 4 Stars 

The time period of James Clavell’s fascinating ‘Tai-Pan’ is the middle of the nineteenth century, during Britain’s glory days when her champions swaggered across the globe extending the reach of the British Empire by brain and by brawn. Part edge-of-your seat action adventure, the book is also a delight to those who are still interested in the history of colonialism. China’s belligerent foreign policy today can be traced back to the spanking humiliation that this ancient culture endured at the hands of the West for close to a century.

Ah, Britain and China – one arrogantly flaunting it’s military might while flexing its economic muscle at the same time, the other fiercely insular and undaunted in its sense of superiority. One challenged in matters of hygiene, the other in matters of human rights. How will these two great nations ever see eye-to-eye, with each looking down its nose at the other?

While the book more than adequately lays the historical groundwork for the plot with its detailing of the acquisition of Hong Kong, the story in general is about the British China Traders, the ruthless merchant-pirates who ply the oceans monopolizing the exchange of opium, tea, silk and bullion between East and West. Using Bengal-grown opium as leverage against China, the traders build their empires while corrupting the soul of a nation. In an environment where foreknowledge equals money, staying ahead of the game means staying three steps ahead of everyone else. That would be Dirk Struan.

Struan is the larger than life force behind Hong Kong, the proprietor of The Noble House, and the most powerful of the China Traders. He is a man who can be defined only in contradictions, a British Imperialist and a global visionary, one who would exalt China even as he ravages her for monetary gain. He is a devious manipulator who bends friend and foe alike to his Machiavellian will. He’s not a nice man, but one who lives by his own inscrutable code of honor, harsh yet humane at the same time.

Struan’s implacable enemy is Tyler Brock, his business rival with whom he is on first name terms.  Even as each seeks to annihilate the other, they will nevertheless stand shoulder to shoulder defending their mutual interests, and fighting off their common threats. This is a man’s milieu, each one jostling to be the alpha male - the Tai-Pan. But never fear, there are also some wily yet vulnerable women in this book. Chief among them is May May, Dirk Struan’s devious yet endearingly childlike mistress of indomitable spirit.

‘Tai-Pan’ is an adrenaline-laced thrill ride. Its odd blend of Scottish brogue and Pidgin English may be a little distracting, but its triumphs more than make up for its minor shortcomings. It’s an entertainer fueled by intelligence. That is a potent and irresistible combination.

Angelology by Danielle Trussoni

Angelology by Danielle Trussoni

Rating: 2 & 1/2 Stars

Robert Langdon and Symbology, move over, there’s a new pseudo-science in town – Angelology. In Danielle Trussoni’s book, Angelology is the study of angels, in general. The Angelologists however, are a vigilante force specializing in the Nephilim.

The author cites Biblical references, telling us the story of a group of Angels known as the Watchers, who were sent down to Earth to keep an eye on humanity. Apparently they liked what they saw; at least the female half of it. The hybrid offspring born of these angel/human relationships, and their descendants are the Nephilim. Those who envision angels as ethereal beings of goodness are in for a rude shock. The remorseless, narcissistic Nephilim bear more than a passing resemblance to the soulless denizens of various vampire novels.

Drawn into the centuries old warfare between the Nephilim and the Angelologists, are a naïve young art historian - Verlaine, and an equally unprepared nun - Evangeline. The author, though drawing upon several tried and true literary archetypes, has certainly come up with an intriguing, and richly imagined plot. In the first part of the book, she whets the reader’s curiosity, with a tantalizing start. But unfortunately, the plot flounders in the crucial second half, in its description of the Angelologists’ exploits in wartime Europe. However, she recovers her footing when she steers the story back to present-day New York. The book’s ending seems poised over the edge of a sequel.

There are a few narrative gaps in the plot. In answer to the question, why haven’t the wealthy and powerful Nephilim obliterated their antagonists, this is the answer:

“…they have a remarkable flaw…what they do not have is the intellectual prowess, or the vast store of academic and historical resources that we do. Essentially, they need us to do their thinking for them.”

That clears it up.

She devotes an inordinate amount of words to rapturous and repetitive descriptions of the Nephilim’s physical beauty – their stature, the blondeness of their hair, the blueness of their eyes, the paleness of their skin…ad nauseam. It’s like we’re dealing with a particularly vapid but vicious species of Scandinavian supermodels.

The author’s characterization tends to come off as flat and wooden. And never is this more evident, than when she talks about the Nephilim, who seem mostly caricatures of villainy, rather than the real thing.

If you’re truly intrigued by angelic malfeasance, and want to see bad done right, there’s no match for Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’, or his charismatic, doomed anti-hero – Lucifer. He has a certain devilish charm. Don't be put off by its 'Classic' credentials. It got that label for a reason.

Blood from a Stone

Blood from a Stone by Donna Leon
(a Commissario Guido Brunnetti Mystery)

Rating: 2 Stars

I was looking forward to blissfully soaking myself in a good old-fashioned cloak and dagger novel, but initially found this one a little tepid. More used to the rat-a-tat pace of the American crime caper, or the sinister undercurrents of the English countryside, it took me a while to get used to the well-read, genial hero of this Venetian mystery.

Guido Brunnetti, devoted family man and lover of good food, is a far cry from the stereotypical hard-boiled, macho cop hero. The story is well written, with a thought-provoking plot that takes time to unravel.

My main quibble is that our hero is reduced to being a frustrated witness when the final pieces of the puzzle fall into place. Neither he, nor the reader, has the satisfaction of declaring whole-heartedly, “Case closed!” Still, I think the series holds promise. Next time, I might try one of the better-reviewed books of Ms. Leon’s like, “Doctored Evidence” or “Uniform Justice”. Until then, Ciao Guido!

The Time Traveler's Wife

The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

Rating: 3 Stars

Henry DeTamble, the hero of Audrey Niffenegger’s novel, has a curious disorder that he shares with several other heroes of fantasy fiction - he has a tendency to zigzag between Past, Present, and Future. But the author, who has a nifty knack for words, has inventively come up with a scientific label for his condition – he’s a CDP (Chrono Displaced Person).

But the science(fiction)-averse reader has nothing to fear. We’re not going to be bogged down by terminology here. This is first and foremost a romance. Our hero, by profession is a librarian, a multilingual scholar, lover of books, and dishy-looking, to boot. Traffic in the local libraries would increase considerably, if we had more like him.

Henry’s not a very good boy though; he’s also a larcenous, hard-drinking womanizer, given to the use of recreational drugs. But all he needs is the love of a good woman to make over his life, and Clare Abshire happens to fit the bill. She’s spent most of her life grooming herself for the job, since she was 6 and Henry was 36, and since she was 13 and he was 35, and since she was 16 and he was 32, and since…whatever.

Niffenegger puts her own spin on an oft-told theme, and livens it with her painterly prose. Her writing skills are superb. Her few flaws include rambling filler-like conversation, a tendency to bloviate on her pet topics, and rather naive interpolation of ethnic stereotypes. I found the book reminiscent of Danielle Steele’s style – beautiful people lisping French and German, wallowing in art and culture, and living with an insouciant disregard of financial constraints. I probably shouldn’t carp on that – the world of romantic fiction makes no allowance for petty concerns like high mortgage, or low libido. The hero and heroine are required to have interesting problems. They don’t fail us there.

Ultimately, I enjoyed this book, because the love that’s talked about is the real thing; it endures. Past, Present, or Future – it doesn’t matter, as long as you’re with the love of your life. Recommendation? Three hankies /a box of Kleenex.