The Murder on the Links, by Agatha Christie, 1923.
There is so much charm, and so many layers, to this book that this is probably my favorite Poirot story. Also, how could I not be enchanted by a dead body on a golf course? ;)
Monday, April 16, 2018
Sunday, April 15, 2018
Book 605: Who Killed My Daughter?
Who Killed My Daughter?, by Lois Duncan, Delacorte Press, 1992.
Through Facebook, I knew Ms. Duncan in her final years. I knew she broke her back around Thanksgiving of 2015, and had surgeries but was in unbearable pain -- always. I knew that her daughter, who would have been my contemporary, was murdered at the age of 18 in 1989. I knew that her daughter's unsolved murder weighed heavily on her.
She knew about my young son through the stories I shared. She even gave me writing advice on the book I was writing, and which I tabled after her death -- until now. During the last few months of her life, she sent me a signed copy of this book. I didn't read this book right away, and, after she died, I didn't feel like I could read this book at all -- until last week.
Even after all the conversations she and I had about writing, I didn't know how much ESP affected her. I knew that the local police department botched the murder case, but I didn't know how badly. I didn't know how much her youngest daughter's murder tore apart her family -- until I read the book.
When I first heard about Lois' death, I thought "At last she will know who killed her daughter". As I read this book, that feeling became even stronger. As much as I enjoy Lois' other books, I can't say I liked this book. This book was not written to be 'liked'. It was written to try to solve her daughter's murder case. It was written to bring closure. I didn't 'like' this book, but I do feel like I owe it Lois to go back to the book I was writing at the time of her death. Lois, over the course of her life, inspired many fledgling writings. Maybe her final advice to me was to see that through this book.
Through Facebook, I knew Ms. Duncan in her final years. I knew she broke her back around Thanksgiving of 2015, and had surgeries but was in unbearable pain -- always. I knew that her daughter, who would have been my contemporary, was murdered at the age of 18 in 1989. I knew that her daughter's unsolved murder weighed heavily on her.
She knew about my young son through the stories I shared. She even gave me writing advice on the book I was writing, and which I tabled after her death -- until now. During the last few months of her life, she sent me a signed copy of this book. I didn't read this book right away, and, after she died, I didn't feel like I could read this book at all -- until last week.
Even after all the conversations she and I had about writing, I didn't know how much ESP affected her. I knew that the local police department botched the murder case, but I didn't know how badly. I didn't know how much her youngest daughter's murder tore apart her family -- until I read the book.
When I first heard about Lois' death, I thought "At last she will know who killed her daughter". As I read this book, that feeling became even stronger. As much as I enjoy Lois' other books, I can't say I liked this book. This book was not written to be 'liked'. It was written to try to solve her daughter's murder case. It was written to bring closure. I didn't 'like' this book, but I do feel like I owe it Lois to go back to the book I was writing at the time of her death. Lois, over the course of her life, inspired many fledgling writings. Maybe her final advice to me was to see that through this book.
Thursday, April 12, 2018
Book 604: I Am The Cat, Don't Forget That
I am the cat, don't forget that, text by Roy Blount, Jr., photographs by Valerie Shaff, Harper Collins, 2004.
I would have thought I could not possibly go wrong with a book featuring both cats and poems, especially in the merry month of . . . er . . . April, so I bought this book. Alas, I did not exactly go 'wrong', but neither did I go 'right'. To be sure, the photos were delightful, although some were slightly contrived; and the poems were contrived, although some were slightly delightful.
I would have thought I could not possibly go wrong with a book featuring both cats and poems, especially in the merry month of . . . er . . . April, so I bought this book. Alas, I did not exactly go 'wrong', but neither did I go 'right'. To be sure, the photos were delightful, although some were slightly contrived; and the poems were contrived, although some were slightly delightful.
Monday, April 9, 2018
Book 603: Life Studies/For the Union Dead
Life Studies/For the Union Dead, by Robert Lowell, Noonday Press, 1992.
Most of these poems were very well-written, with breath-taking tempos and cut-glass phrasing. I almost always appreciated the jarring but oddly appropriate word choice, and the intricacy of the phrasing. But, with very few exceptions, I felt like I was wallowing in teen angst as I read these. A few poems turned outward, as in Dropping South: Brazil, and For the Union Dead, but far, far too many turned inward, and reading those poems was quite draining.
Most of these poems were very well-written, with breath-taking tempos and cut-glass phrasing. I almost always appreciated the jarring but oddly appropriate word choice, and the intricacy of the phrasing. But, with very few exceptions, I felt like I was wallowing in teen angst as I read these. A few poems turned outward, as in Dropping South: Brazil, and For the Union Dead, but far, far too many turned inward, and reading those poems was quite draining.
Sunday, April 8, 2018
Book 602: Five Complete Miss Marple Novels
Five Complete Miss Marple Novels, by Agatha Christie.
Some of these Miss Marple stories are stronger than others, but The Mirror Crack'd and The Body in the Library were pretty much perfection. And the other three were well-worth reading.
Some of these Miss Marple stories are stronger than others, but The Mirror Crack'd and The Body in the Library were pretty much perfection. And the other three were well-worth reading.
Saturday, April 7, 2018
Book 601: Because of Winn-Dixie
Because of Winn-Dixie, by Kate DiCamillo, Candlewick, 2001.
I've read many other books by Kate DiCamillo before, and have loved or liked them all, but I had never read Because of Winn-Dixie -- until now.
My third grade son's Literature Class because reading this in school. He loved it so much, he wanted his own copy, so we bought one. When he finished the book, he wanted the movie, so we bought a copy of that too.
It's hard to explain why this book, or any of Kate DiCamillo's writing, stand out. Certainly she isn't afraid of difficult topics, but neither are a lot of other writers. She also isn't afraid to give a not-quite-perfectly happy ending, but, again, neither are a lot of other writers. If I were to guess, though, I would say that one reason her writing is so accessible and enjoyable is that her main character(s) are not perfect. They may mean well, but they don't get everything right, just like most kids.
I've read many other books by Kate DiCamillo before, and have loved or liked them all, but I had never read Because of Winn-Dixie -- until now.
My third grade son's Literature Class because reading this in school. He loved it so much, he wanted his own copy, so we bought one. When he finished the book, he wanted the movie, so we bought a copy of that too.
It's hard to explain why this book, or any of Kate DiCamillo's writing, stand out. Certainly she isn't afraid of difficult topics, but neither are a lot of other writers. She also isn't afraid to give a not-quite-perfectly happy ending, but, again, neither are a lot of other writers. If I were to guess, though, I would say that one reason her writing is so accessible and enjoyable is that her main character(s) are not perfect. They may mean well, but they don't get everything right, just like most kids.
Tuesday, April 3, 2018
Book 600: Rapid Eye Movement
Rapid Eye Movement, by Istvan Banyai, Viking Books, 1997.
I am reviewing this book during National Poetry Month because this book felt like poetry without words. It also felt like a tribute to Winsor McCay and his Nemo. I have to admit that I didn't completely understand it -- my dreams perhaps are not as close to me as Mr. Banyai's are to him -- but my nine-year-old son, whose imagination and dreams have sparked many stories, understood this book perfectly. So I guess I also have to admit that I was not the target audience for this book. Dreamers, however, will love it.
I am reviewing this book during National Poetry Month because this book felt like poetry without words. It also felt like a tribute to Winsor McCay and his Nemo. I have to admit that I didn't completely understand it -- my dreams perhaps are not as close to me as Mr. Banyai's are to him -- but my nine-year-old son, whose imagination and dreams have sparked many stories, understood this book perfectly. So I guess I also have to admit that I was not the target audience for this book. Dreamers, however, will love it.
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