Cat Among the Pigeons

Cat Among the Pigeons

By Agatha Christie

Late one night, two teachers investigate a mysterious flashing light in the sports pavilion while the rest of the school sleeps. There, among the lacrosse sticks, they stumble upon the body of an unpopular games mistress—shot through the heart point-blank.

The school is thrown into chaos when the “cat” strikes again. Unfortunately, schoolgirl Julia Upjohn knows too much. In particular, she knows that without Hercule Poirot’s help, she will be the next victim.…

What a misleading blurb! There's absolutely no mention of the missing royal jewels which were smuggled away from a faux middle-eastern country in the midst of a revolution, and which are now ensconced at said British girls' school.  And misleading tagline! I think it's a bit of a stretch to call this a Hercule Poirot novel - yes, he's in it, and solves the mystery, but he basically comes in 90% of the way there, talks with one of the schoolgirls and the police, and then sits everyone down to do the reveal.  Much less detection that his normal métier. Although it was still a relief to have him and not ersatz Poirot.  And this wasn't one I'd read before, so I was very pleased to get into it.  Did it hold up?

Well there's a fair amount of the trademark Christie stereotypes and semi-racism (that's when they acknowledge that people are being racist, but it's intentional so it's supposed to be a joke).  This one has not only aforementioned middle-easterners, but also spanish dancers, french schoolteachers, and emirs.  As usual, the level headed people are lauded and the dramatic people discover things that get them killed (also they're nosy and can't keep their mouths shut). 

I always try to pay very close attention to clues and things, in the hopes that I will someday, solve the mystery before the detective does! Alas, I managed to guess one part of the mystery (kidnapped princess was not actually the real princess) but failed to get any of the murders - but I argue that having two different murderers with two different motives was a cheap trick! I also kept hoping that it was a fake-out that the prince and his pilot friend both died, since they seemed so nice in their initial chapters. I know Christie does sometimes have the victims narrate a bit of the story, but it was a little poignant here.  

Overall, I liked it, although I might have liked it better with at least 100% more Poirot.  It did keep me guessing, and I think any Christie is generally pretty good. I do like the ones where one of the couples ends up together so I definitely convinced myself that's what was going to happen here and I have to say - you got me, Dame Christie.  I fell for it.  Anyway, if you like Christie, by all means, read this one.

Good Girl, Bad Blood

Good Girl, Bad Blood

By Holly Jackson

Pip is not a detective anymore.

With the help of Ravi Singh, she released a true-crime podcast about the murder case they solved together last year. The podcast has gone viral, yet Pip insists her investigating days are behind her.

But she will have to break that promise when someone she knows goes missing. Jamie Reynolds has disappeared, on the very same night the town hosted a memorial for the sixth-year anniversary of the deaths of Andie Bell and Sal Singh.

The police won't do anything about it. And if they won't look for Jamie then Pip will, uncovering more of her town's dark secrets along the way... and this time everyone is listening. But will she find him before it's too late?

This is the second in the series, which I reserved almost as soon as I finished the first one... last year, though it took so long to be available now the third one's slated for publishing, and since I didn't write a review of the first, we'll just have to guess at how they compare to each other. I liked parts of this one, and didn't like parts, so it's a bit of a mixed bag, but overall a positive impression.

What I liked: obviously, the lengthy recap at the beginning, which was necessary for moi, since I never remember anything, and that it was done in such a way that it didn't seem forced or anything. It was good, I appreciated the recap, and helpful, since many of the people and events from A Good Girl's Guide to Murder carryover or have additional effects and storylines in Good Girl, Bad Blood.  

I liked that Ravi was there but not really shoehorned in as a more active participant since this mystery wasn't directly concerning him.  A lot of times it feels like shows or books with popular characters have pressure to keep those characters a big focus of subsequent plots, even though it doesn't make much narrative sense.  I also liked that the "cast" of characters was manageable - even after reading the recap of the first book, it seemed like there was just a lot of different plots to keep track of in that one. 

I also liked Pip, and the development of her character - with a caveat.  The extended "scream" sequence, after she finds out Max Hastings is acquitted is... a bit much.  I appreciated that the trauma from the first book affected her in tangible ways in this one, but because the story is so compressed here (like a week from beginning to end), even spending one whole day on it feels like A LOT of the book.

And the storyline was also a bit suspect too - so in an effort to figure out which young man is the one "Leila" is looking for, both Stanley and Luke are drawn out to meet her - and Stanley's meeting place just happens to be where Luke's drug deals go down? Sure, Jan.  And I liked that Jackson at least attempted to address WHY ON EARTH Leila would use a local person's pictures for the scam, but I found the explanation to be very silly and unbelievable.  And I think, narratively, it was annoying that the reveal about Child Brunswick came so late in the game - yes, in real life, we discover things when we discover them, but when you have readers attempting to solve the puzzle along with the detective, it feels a little cheap to pull in a HUGE aspect of the mystery at like, 80% of the way through.

I also liked, again, the structure of the book.  I can't remember if the first one had all the diagrams and pictures, but those, along with the interview records and other notes, made the reading experience fun.  I liked getting those

Although, haha, where on earth does Pip live that can comfortably manage: two murders, two kidnappings, another miscellaneous missing child, a relocated person in witness protection, not to mention assorted other crimes, like drug dealing, underage relationships, uh, I know I'm forgetting some, but you get the idea.  I mean sure, okay, all that, but ALSO able to walk from one of town to the other in less than an hour?  Hmmm. 

I do see that there's going to be a third one, and I think I'll plan on reading that one too.  I like the style quite a bit,and although I didn't like this one quite as much as the first, it was still very readable.

The Night Tiger

The Night Tiger

By  Yangsze Choo

Quick-witted, ambitious Ji Lin is stuck as an apprentice dressmaker in 1930s Mayalsia, moonlighting as a dancehall girl to help pay off her mother's Mahjong debts. But when one of her dance partners accidentally leaves behind a gruesome souvenir, Ji Lin may finally get the adventure she has been longing for.

Eleven-year-old houseboy Ren is also on a mission, racing to fulfill his former master's dying wish: that Ren find the man's finger, lost years ago in an accident, and bury it with his body. Ren has 49 days to do so, or his master's soul will wander the earth forever.

As the days tick relentlessly by, a series of unexplained deaths racks the district, along with whispers of men who turn into tigers. Ji Lin and Ren's increasingly dangerous paths crisscross through lush plantations, hospital storage rooms, and ghostly dreamscapes.

Ooo, another good one, I'm on a roll!  Eminently readable, although definitely not for everyone.  It's very hard to describe, since the tone of the book is not quite magical realism (as many people have pointed to) but more - the interaction of normal life with the mysticism found in dreams.  Everyday Living with Ghosts, so to speak.   We switch off narration from two main characters, Ren, an 11 year old trying to find a finger, Ji Lin , a young woman working for a dressmaker and in a dancehall, who found the finger, much to her disgust, and one secondary character, William Acton, a British doctor with ~secrets~ (mostly about how he's banging a bunch of women).  

I was sucked in very quickly, the book is pretty atmospheric, so if you like it to start, that's pretty much how it continues.  Both the main characters were fun to read about, though I preferred Ji Lin.  That may be a cop out though, since I mostly just wanted good things to happen to her, and for most of the first part of the book, she seemed to be at risk for "bad things happening" than Ren.  

My biggest beef is that it seemed there was a lot of "suggestive" spiritual/fantastical things, like the weretiger, but they were basically dropped.  The mystery had an entirely human explanation, and although the dreams were intriguing, most of it didn't really connect to things in the normal world (like how each of the five had "something slightly wrong" with them - was this ever really addressed? or the dream sequences, the way that Ren's brother seemed to have another agenda going on, but it never really panned out).  

I know some people were weirded out by the step-brother romance thing - it was telegraphed early enough and obviously enough that I was prepared for it, so it didn't upset me in the sense of coming out of nowhere, and I was really rooting for those crazy kids, but I will say that once it was out in the open and her brother was basically like, "I'm going to try to seduce you," that was a little creepy to me.  Like the vibe at the end of that movie, The Graduate, where they run off so happily, but then we stay on them and you can see the smiles just sort of gradually disappear.  Why can't Ji Lin have nice things!

I would however, be more than happy to read about Ji Lin and Ren's continuing adventures in Singapore! I feel like they would make a wacky and entertaining detective team.  One of the most disappointing things was how little time they spent together in this book - although it wouldn't really make sense for them to join forces (this isn't a comic book, after all), I really would have loved to see them interact more, if only because each got very little support from other people in their lives, and it was nice to see their connection.    Man, I could have strangled William for shooting Ren though, that was messed up. Even if it was an accident.  

I'd like to re-read this again, this time with more of an eye towards the non-mystery parts of the story.  I mean, one of the strengths of the book is that even though I was incredibly curious about how it was going to be resolved, the writing really sucked me into the mood and atmosphere, instead of feeling like it was just slowing the plot down (although at roughly 1/3rd of the way in, I was like, "How can this plot fill the rest of the book?" and I'm still not sure how it took so long to wrap up, but I never minded the ride).  Which is good, because that increases the re-readability. I guess what I'm saying is, it felt very immersive and dreamy, which I hope was the intention of the author, almost like being there, and I enjoyed the trip very much.

Hench

Hench

By Natalie Zona Walschots

Anna does boring things for terrible people because even criminals need office help and she needs a job. Working for a monster lurking beneath the surface of the world isn’t glamorous. But is it really worse than working for an oil conglomerate or an insurance company? In this economy?

 As a temp, she’s just a cog in the machine. But when she finally gets a promising assignment, everything goes very wrong, and an encounter with the so-called “hero” leaves her badly injured.  And, to her horror, compared to the other bodies strewn about, she’s the lucky one.

So, of course, then she gets laid off.

With no money and no mobility, with only her anger and internet research acumen, she discovers her suffering at the hands of a hero is far from unique. When people start listening to the story that her data tells, she realizes she might not be as powerless as she thinks.

Because the key to everything is data: knowing how to collate it, how to manipulate it, and how to weaponize it. By tallying up the human cost these caped forces of nature wreak upon the world, she discovers that the line between good and evil is mostly marketing.  And with social media and viral videos, she can control that appearance.

It’s not too long before she’s employed once more, this time by one of the worst villains on earth. As she becomes an increasingly valuable lieutenant, she might just save the world.

 

I think Hench is going to end up in my year-end best list.  At one point, I was telling my husband that I didn't want to accidentally spoil myself because I was having trouble predicting what was going to happen next.  Not that Hench is an original tale - the idea of the mundane in a superheroic world (and even the everyday cost of all that damage from saving the world) has been done before - the Watchmen tv series was amazing, although I Did Not Love the original comic - and ultimately, nothing in the story was THAT unexpected (except for the DETAILED and LENGTHY description of Supercollider's ultimate, uh, "new look"), but Walschots manages to tell it in a very exciting and compelling way.  

I didn't really love the beginning, or Anna, who works for supervillains because it pays (although apparently it doesn't even do that much, since she's living off ramen at the start) and winds up getting severely injured while on the job.  A couple reasons this didn't work for me: (1) she chose to align herself with a person who kidnaps and threatens to cut the finger off some kid, so does she really have the high ground here? and (2) her vendetta against superheroes really becomes justified only when we find out that Supercollider is an absolute trash bag.  If, for example, she'd been injured and focused her rage on a superhero who felt bad about it, we wouldn't empathize so much with her, and frankly, it's just chance that it was Supercollider.  Sort of like a broken clock being right twice a day - Anna was correct here, but wasn't it more luck than skill that led her to target Supercollider?  

But I would be much more interested to hear a non-American viewpoint of Anna's position, because in the US, it is very much an attitude of "You signed on with criminals, you are a criminal".  There are laws which basically impute crimes, like murder, to the "less culpable" members of the gang (like the getaway driver) just because you were complicit in the entire transaction.  In that sense, Anna isn't innocent.  She literally interviewed for the position of "bad guy" and walked intentionally into a life of crime.  On the other hand, even criminals have due process. Is any amount of force justified under any circumstances? Obviously the broad answer should be "no", but in the specific context of the book, this is where I think her position is weak, again: no, I don't think force is always justified, but there was about to be physical violence, with the director of that violence (Electric Eel) indicating that he was capable of doing even worse than the immediate finger-loss.  Just because Anna has the benefit in hindsight of calculating the lost life of the hench people versus a finger and money, what would have been the ultimate loss had Supercollider (or some other hero) not intervened? Would Electric Eel have stopped with money or a finger? She's very blase about the kidnapping and threats until her own life is on the line - Anna doesn't sign on to be a hench person because she thinks the superheroes are out of control until she's actually injured by one.  Only then does she embark on her holy mission of vengeance.  So why the high horse? Perhaps the sequel, if there is one, will explore further her assumption that superheroes create their own villains.  That's like saying laws create criminals.  Sure, without laws, we wouldn't have "crime" technically, but uh, murder would still happen. Is she really suggesting that no villain has a venal desire here? Or that the villains, who set out to create chaos, are better than the superheroes who do so carelessly?

The author mentions in an interview that some people never get past that portion and don't finish the book.  Obviously I did, and I liked it quite a bit.  There's something fascinating and attractive about competent people, good or evil, and obviously here, we discover that their mission is "righteous" (if there is such a thing in this world) since Supercollider is a huge dick.  

I also appreciated the involvement of Quantum, Supercollider's main squeeze, who ends up taking over the ultimate fight (while our protagonist, Anna, basically waits by the sidelines, as someone who is skilled only in data entry should be doing) although it could be seen as a real deus ex machina. 

I think there's also some parallels to be drawn (if one were so inclined) about the narrative taking over the reality.  Here, the idea of superheroes as well, heroic, is so ingrained that it actually gives Supercollider power (more than just, like, the power to plow into buildings without being prosecuted). I mean, what are we dealing with in society right now if not this idea that "feelings" trump "facts".  Another recent take on what it means to be "good" in today's world, where every choice actually implicates a net negative is The Good Place.   There's definitely a lot of scope for critical examinations of Hench, and I liked that it wasn't necessarily easy - you know, Anna doesn't become a better person by the end of it, it's hard to say whether justice was actually done, and even the person who "won" isn't happy.

Maybe it's just me climbing out of a rut, or maybe I was just in the mood, or maybe I've become a complete nihilist in the face of *all this*, but Hench was a refreshing delight.

Dear Mr. Knightley

Dear Mr. Knightley

By Katherine Reay

Sam is, to say the least, bookish. An English major of the highest order, her diet has always been Austen, Dickens, and Shakespeare. The problem is, both her prose and conversation tend to be more Elizabeth Bennet than Samantha Moore.

But life for the twenty-three-year-old orphan is about to get stranger than fiction. An anonymous, Dickensian benefactor (calling himself Mr. Knightley) offers to put Sam through Northwestern University's prestigious Medill School of Journalism. There is only one catch: Sam must write frequent letters to the mysterious donor, detailing her progress.

As Sam's memory mingles with that of eligible novelist Alex Powell, her letters to Mr. Knightley become increasingly confessional. While Alex draws Sam into a world of warmth and literature that feels like it's straight out of a book, old secrets are drawn to light. And as Sam learns to love and trust Alex and herself, she learns once again how quickly trust can be broken.

I wasn't immediately drawn into this book, but thought I'd give it a chance, you know.  It had that feel of "downtrodden orphan suddenly experiences good fortune" a la Mandy or Daddy Longlegs or Anne of Green Gables and those can be fun.  I honestly don't know if it would have been okay if it hadn't been set in Chicago, but it was, and now here I am, not even finished with the book, and already typing out my feelings because I'm so annoyed.  

This book felt like it was written by someone who had no idea what Chicago is like, and reading the author biography, maybe this is unfair, but she sounds like some rich white person who went to school at Northwestern (in Evanston, a pretty rich, white town) and now lives in a fancy fucking suburb and thinks she knows Chicago because she knows the restaurants that rich, white people eat at downtown, and she knows the North Side (the "good parts" of Chicago). 

Example 1: Everytime Sam takes the train somewhere, or walks around in a neighborhood other than the north side, she's either beaten, threatened, or harassed.  This shit was RIDICULOUS.  She literally takes cabs from downtown to Evanston because she can't take the train anymore.  This is some weird-ass tourist fear bullshit.  This insane reactionary attitude about the public transportation is making me see red.  That's just made up fear-mongering. If you've grown up in Chicago, you get fucking used to the bus (never mentioned, haha, probably because only people who actually live here take the bus and Reay's just a damn sightseer) and the train, and you have your protection - attitude, keys, loud voice, pepper spray, whatever - to draw on if you get singled out, but ninety-nine times out of a hundred, you just keep your damn head down and it's FINE.  Not to mention that anyone who'd been in an abusive home would, I assume, have even more experience doing this. And of course, all of her Chicago friends, Kyle and Cara, also get beaten too, because no one who lives here can possibly go without getting attacked.

Example 2: Name dropping  and pill popping.  No, wait, no pill popping, just name dropping.  I felt a vague disquiet early in the book when she's referencing neighborhoods and shit, like it all felt off somehow, you know?, but halfway through, she make an egregious error about where something is located that I am personally familiar with and I was like, "This shit is wrong."  I mean, the premise is that Sam is from Chicago, right? How is that possible when she talks about it like it's a foreign country? Why name drop these neighborhoods so aggressively if you're gonna be so wrong? It would have been better not to mention locations at all! Then I could have filled in the blanks of where she's at, but it's like Reay just heard these names and didn't bother looking up what the actual character of these places are. Chicago has a hundred neighborhoods, some good, some bad, and yes, it can change in the space of a few blocks.  I can feel myself getting angry, and honestly, I know I sound like a crazy person, but the real indignity is not that she's getting it so wrong, but that she's using the city like some crime-filled backdrop for Sam's elevation and that's not right.  Chicago is a lot of things, and it deserves more than just to be some cheap shorthand.

It's like Reay wanted us to know how much research she did so she name drops Chicago restaurants like it's going out of style, and all of these places are, again, rich white people places, north side places.  Sam's geographic locations (including Grace House, where she begins the book) when she's in her orphans state are incredibly vague, but as soon as she meets up with all these suburban assholes we get incredibly specific.  Not to mention, all these places are fucking expensive.  Sure, she's going on dates with wealthy guys, but honestly, she never takes her foster kid friend Kyle out for like, $10 pizza? Or those semi dubious "chicken-fish" places? And never a qualm about the menu prices? Which brings me to my next point:

Example 3: This book sounds like it was written like someone who was never poor.  A specific example: Sam gets broken up with, and goes home and watches "two Austen movies, ate a whole pizza and an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's", then, not even like two chapters laters, tells Alex that she never went into the cookie aisle because she couldn't afford it growing up.  Bitch, you can afford Ben and Jerry's!  I'm sorry, you have NO MONEY and yet you're buying the fancy ass $4 pints of ice cream? You're going out to eat at Spago and Spiaggia and Billy Goat Tavern? You're taking cabs all over the damn place? I feel like I'm taking crazy pills! Is this what someone who has never been poor thinks it's like? At one point, Alex surprises her by wanting to go running, so she goes to Fleet Feet (*rolls eyes*) with him, and lets him buy her shoes and shorts and who knows what else (no mention of needing a dang sports bra, I see, what a freaking fantasy world) and never a qualm!  

And for ~plot reasons~ Kyle manages to get adopted in like, two months, which, I don't think you can even get a court date in less than two months in Cook County, let alone go through the adoption process.  Damn.  And haha, she thinks the Chicago Marathon would be cancelled because it's windy and rainy? Lol, I can think of one race cancelled (mid-race, because who knows what the weather will be like the day before) and that was because it was like, 95 degrees and 100% humidity and people were passing out.  The racing season begins when it is still like, 35 degrees in the daytime, and the races start before the sun is up.  Not to mention, I don't know where Sam is running mile 20 that she's on Lake Shore Drive hearing the sound of waves crashing, but I think she's going the wrong way.  Mile 20 is like, in Chinatown.

Anyway, aside from that, I never really connected with Sam, and thought the plot was all very telegraphed. Except for that marriage proposal. Man, nothing says "good idea" like proposing to someone who has never gone on a date with you. 

Shrill

Shrill

By Lindy West

Coming of age in a culture that demands women be as small, quiet, and compliant as possible -- like a porcelain dove that will also have sex with you -- writer and humoristLindy West quickly discovered that she was anything but.

From a painfully shy childhood in which she tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her big body and even bigger opinions; to her public war with stand-up comedians over rape jokes; to her struggle to convince herself, and then the world, that fat people have value; to her accidental activism and never-ending battle royale with Internet trolls, Lindy narrates her life with a blend of humor and pathos that manages to make a trip to the abortion clinic funny and wring tears out of a story about diarrhea.

With inimitable good humor, vulnerability, and boundless charm, Lindy boldly shares how to survive in a world where not all stories are created equal and not all bodies are treated with equal respect, and how to weather hatred, loneliness, harassment, and loss, and walk away laughing. Shrill provocatively dissects what it means to become self-aware the hard way, to go from wanting to be silent and invisible to earning a living defending the silenced in all caps.

Hand to god, I read The Witches are Coming last year (or the year before??) and had no idea that this was written by the same person.  I have no idea where my mind is.  Now, admittedly that is because after reading The Witches are Coming I was not interested in reading more from West, but that's not because it wasn't good.  It was good.  It just made me really depressed.  In fact, I typed that last sentence just now before re-reading my review, and had completely forgotten about the "GODDAMN DEPRESSING" exclamation.  At least I'm consistent!  

But this was different in a couple of important ways: 

(1) It wasn't as funny. 

This felt more like memoir than TWAC, which makes sense, because it kind of is.  It tracks West's "up-and-coming" years, when she got famous and got slammed and made her mark.  Shrill is the book which got developed into the TV show.  TWAC is the book that was written after she went so mainstream even I had heard of her.  Not that I'm living under a rock.  I just don't follow the comedy scene (for reasons very clearly laid out in Shrill) and I noped myself off of Jezebel when they changed their commenting rules, although now, in the distant fog of time, I can't remember what it was that I didn't like, since I never commented anyway.  I was definitely part of the Great Exodus though, which took me to Hairpin, which took me to Billfold, which took me to Ask a Manager, only dipping my toes into the Toast occasionally but not becoming a fanatic, and now that I've dredged up all that, some internet archaeologist can probably tell you my exact age and identifying details.*  Anyway, all of that is to say, I'm definitely in West's demographic but hadn't really known much of her biography until reading Shrill.  So I was a bit surprised that it was more biography than comedy, since "comedian" was my only frame of reference for her.  

TWAC reads more like a series of riffs on various topics. I mentioned the Adam Sandler one in my previous review, but her page-long screed about her husband's trumpet playing is also pretty amazing. Shrill is more raw, more personal (and therefore not necessarily amusing) and although it is funny, feels more like the goal was to explain, than entertain. 

(2) It wasn't as depressing.

This helped a lot.  Honestly, although I found parts of TWAC to be hilarious, Shrill felt more cathartic.  It started sort of slowly for me, but once the chapters start becoming closer, chronologically, it felt like it really picked up steam.  The last quarter or so of the book, with the sections on the trolls and the break up and her dad's death, and the remorseful troll, felt more hopeful to me than anything in TWAC.  Maybe it was good I read this one second, because it made me optimistic.  Reading TWAC now I feel like I would just get bombarded with everything that hasn't changed since Shrill. In writing this, I went down a few rabbit holes of feminist websites and writers from the early-mid two thousands, and I really miss those kinds of sites - I can't really think of any that have adequately replaced what is now defunct.  They were a haven, in many ways, from the misogyny and dick-swinging that categorized most of the rest of the internet.  I hope that there will be something to replace it for our younger generations. 

*I totally high-fived myself for remembering all that without looking it up, but turns out I have just as terrible a memory as I claim to: I think The Awl was somewhere in there too, and who knows what detritus of other short-lived but beloved sites.  The whole thing has come full circle though, since both founding members of The Hairpin now write advice columns for Slate, which I started reading long before they joined (although why I was reading it I have no idea. That one must have been a random recommendation).

Gentleman Jim

 

Gentleman Jim

By Mimi Matthews

She couldn't forget...

Wealthy squire's daughter Margaret Honeywell was always meant to marry her neighbor, Frederick Burton-Smythe, but it's bastard-born Nicholas Seaton who has her heart. Raised alongside her on her father's estate, Nicholas is the rumored son of notorious highwayman Gentleman Jim. When Fred frames him for theft, Nicholas escapes into the night, vowing to find his legendary sire. But Nicholas never returns. A decade later, he's long been presumed dead.

He wouldn't forgive...

After years spent on the continent, John Beresford, Viscount St. Clare has finally come home to England. Tall, blond, and dangerous, he's on a mission to restore his family's honor. If he can mete out a bit of revenge along the way, so much the better. But he hasn't reckoned for Maggie Honeywell. She's bold and beautiful—and entirely convinced he's someone else.

As danger closes in, St. Clare is torn between love and vengeance. Will he sacrifice one to gain the other? Or with a little luck—and a lot of daring—will he find a way to have them both?

Eh, this one was emphatically fine, but not my favorite of Matthews' stuff. Which is weird, since it doesn't have the Victorian overtones of her other (Victorian) novels, which are the parts I tend to like the least, but here the relationship between the main characters had basically already happened and developed off-screen, and this was just a look at them overcoming exterior obstacles, which isn't as much of my jam.  I also really didn't like Margaret's interactions with Fred, since her plan was basically appeasement, which was both doomed to failure, and unpleasant to read. 

I don't think it's a HUGE spoiler to say that St. Clare the aristocrat and Nicholas, Margaret's first love, are in fact the same person, just, you know, doing a bad job of moving on past his early childhood traumas.  Matthews notes that this was inspired quite a bit by Count of Monte Cristo, which I can see.  Certainly the innocent who is wrongfully accused and forced to leave his beloved, returns years later, wealthy, powerful, and with some vengeance in mind, is pretty familiar.  Maybe too familiar? Part of my beef with the book is that a lot of the resolutions to the plot points (were his parents actually married???) were telegraphed so clearly that I found myself almost skimming the conflict sections since they held no mystery or tension for me.  What I was super invested in was Margaret's friend Jane's crush on Mattingly, which involved like, six paragraphs of the book, but took on outsize importance for me.  I hope they get their own story next!

It also felt weirdly out of period at points.  Maybe I've just been conditioned to the Jane Austen regency era, but all the discussion of Margaret as a pistol-wielding, horse-riding daredevil, not to mention the highwaymen and mustache-twirling villains felt like this was supposed to be set in a completely different era.  For me, it kind of evoked Tom Hawke/The Link Boys, by Constance Fecher, which is set in the early 1600s, but even a more Dickensian 1800s would fit, or Sid Fleischman, although I have no idea when those were supposed to be set.  By the way, Tom Hawke is awesome and it should come back into print!  My copy is literally bound together with scotch tape.    

The Rules of Civility

The Rules of Civility 

By Amor Towles

On the last night of 1937, twenty-five-year-old Katey Kontent is in a second-rate Greenwich Village jazz bar when Tinker Grey, a handsome banker, happens to sit down at the neighboring table. This chance encounter and its startling consequences propel Katey on a year-long journey into the upper echelons of New York society—where she will have little to rely upon other than a bracing wit and her own brand of cool nerve.

With its sparkling depiction of New York's social strata, its intricate imagery and themes, and its immensely appealing characters, Rules of Civility won the hearts of readers and critics alike.

As much as I liked A Gentleman in Moscow (and I liked it very much; I bought the book and if you know anything about me that will tell you enough) I really resisted reading Rules for some time.  It sounded feckless and Fitzgerald-y, and I've never read The Great Gatsby, nor do I intend to, as I've had enough navel-gazing of men from authors who have never considered women for a lifetime. But after the last string of failures, I figured I needed to cleanse my palate, and this was a good choice.  

Rules is a genteel, civil (ha!) piece of writing about a determined young woman and a momentous year in her life, which unfolds to her in ways both unexpected and mysterious (at least until the last chapter).  It is, like Gentleman, unhurried, and delights in savoring the details.  Although it feels ridiculous to say this, it felt very much like a love letter to New York.  Yuck, and now that I've gotten that bit of trite-ness out of my system, perhaps we can move forward.  

Katey (Katya/Kate/Katherine/Kathy/etc) Kon-tent is a young woman of Russian heritage who grew up in Brighton Beach and has a quiet, reading-inclined philosophical bent.  Although the novel is framed by an art exhibit, almost thirty years later, the book really opens on New Year's Eve 1937, and runs through 1938 as Kate's life changes, beginning with a chance meeting that first night.  

Although the book itself savors, as I said, the details of the late 1930s, and spends quite a lot of time just living in each moment, the final chapter/epilogue pulls it together, as Kate (and therefore the reader) realizes that the choices made in 1938, while bittersweet in some ways, as they are not without pain, and carry with them the closing of other possibilities and doors, are not to be regretted, as long as you have made them with clear eyes and hearts, truthfully to yourself. It's exactly the kind of morality tale I need right now, as my own accumulation of youthful choices has found me in a very particular place and way that seems to lead to only a single path now. While it is a comfortable and enjoyable life, I am only human, and I wonder at what might not have been, if I'd been less cautious, less fixed in my goals, more susceptible to flattery, more open to people.  But that is not the person I am, and I like the person I am quite a bit, and reading the end of Rules, it reminded me that even though we may be wistful about the road not taken, that the possibilities of other roads were available in the first place is a wonderful thing; and there will always be (as Cheryl Strayed also said) some regret for not being able to live both choices, and sometimes to be content you must be simply bound to find the choice you regret the least.   

There's certainly some literary sleight of hand going on as well, not only in the (seemingly, but I'm no expert) well-researched period details, but also in repeated themes - the idea of names and nicknames come up quite a bit.  Kate muses multiple times about shedding old names and she herself basically accepts any variation on her name that others call her.  It was hard even to find a place where she refers to herself by her chosen name.  

The book itself is also pretty short, doesn't wear out its welcome. It's cut into four sections by season (winter, spring, summer, fall) and framed by her encounters with what turns out to be the man who got away, and first love of her life, Tinker Grey, aforementioned chance meetee.  Although we get a variety of clues telling us how perfect they are for each other (both overt and subtle), fate (and choice) operates to draw them apart at various points just as they seem to be on the verge of coming together.  Kate's friend, Eve, who is injured in a car wreck while Tinker is driving, asserts an early wedge into their potential relationship, and the discovery that Tinker is actually doing his ersatz godmother in order to live the rich life finishes the job. The realization that Tinker is not wealthy as he appeared to her to be but is in fact a self-made man, more like her than not, seems to shake her just as much, if not more, than his arrangement with the other woman, although to Kate's credit, the first realization results in her recognizing her own prejudices and assumptions.

There's certainly themes in Rules about choosing to be true to yourself rather than being, as various characters say, under someone else's thumb.  Eve refuses marriage and flees to LA, Tinker breaks up with his madam and ends up a blue-collar worker, while his brother burns the vestiges of their tainted money and enlists in the army.  Kate's various beaus also enlist in the army according to their own consciences at various points, her friend Fran tells her she's going to be married and have five kids and sagging tits, but she's delighted anyway because that's what she wants.  And Kate moves up in the world, financially and socially, although her real wishes are more opaque than these others.  Perhaps it is enough that she is, at the end of the book, thirty years later, content and satisfied.  

Anyway, did I like the book? Yes, it was well written and engaging and not mean-spirited or raucous.  It's more contemplative, although not without wit.  For all that it captures a wild year and we spend almost every chapter in a new setting, it's somewhat slower paced. Comparing it to Towles' other work, it's less charming and comedic than Gentleman, although both deal with the idea of a life and making the choice to live with integrity.  For all that Rules is about a young woman in her prime and Gentleman about a man who is already old when the book begins (spiritually if not physically) Rules seems more wistful and ephemeral, various people eking out all the happiness and gaiety now while they can, though that could just be me reading it as someone who knows what is coming for all the gay young things with the advent of the 1940s.  Of course, Gentleman avoids this feeling by eliding over certain realities of Russian life after the war, some more literary sleight of hand.  

We all have to live with ourselves, but it's hard not to be grateful, like Katya is, to have had the choices at all.