The Birthday Present Tuesday, Apr 21 2009 

Barbara Vine is England’s treasured author, Ruth Rendell, one of the Golden Three of English Women novelists who also happen to be friends: Rendell, PD James and Frances Fyfield.  Now Baroness Rendell of Babergh (hey, I don’t know how the Queen comes up with these titles!), you may know her from her string of psychological crime thrillers or her best-selling series featuring Chief Insp. Reg Wexford and his family, which has also been serialized by the BBC and seen  in the US on Mystery!

Winner of three Edgar’s and four Gold Dagger Awards for her novels, Rendell is an accomplished author no matter which of her names she writes under.

The Birthday Gift is a crime novel with the unusual twist of not being about a murder at all.  Rather, it centers on the unraveling of a British MP, Ivor Tesham, whose idea of a birthday present for his mistress–to have her ‘kidnapped’ on the street, trussed up and brought to him for a night of sexual fantasy–goes horribly wrong.

It’s told in the beginning from the viewpoint of Ivor’s brother-in-law, a family man who is often repulsed by his in-law’s actions and sometimes cavalier attitude, while still trying to be supportive to his wife, the cad’s sister.  Halfway through, Vine adds the point of view of a spinster who has fallen is love with the dead woman’s cuckolded husband.

There is no great mystery here, other than watching how the big man will fall as the years pass and he thinks he is safe, and yet Vine is such a capable author, she reels the reader in and you feel compelled to see the story unfold.  Twice I thought I would put it aside as I knew there was no surprise ending; twice I picked it up until I’d finished it.

This is not a page turner, but rather a study in characters, done in a mild, mannerly way which disguises the awful hubris man can possess.  It also provides an interesting view into Parliament and the daily life of an rising MP.

Hamish Sunday, Apr 19 2009 

Hamish is our resident ghost.  Doc named him because I love that name for some peculiar reason and wanted to name our puppy that.  “Radar” won out, and by naming our ghost Hamish, he thinks he has nipped that one in the bud for any future animals we might own.

My Google Images won’t upload any pictures today due to rain, but I picture him along the lines of friendly Casper, a nebulous, jolly child, not scary or threatening.

He manifests himself in creaky noises we’ve thought were coming from inside the wall of our bedroom.    We’ve gotten quite used to him over the two years or so he’s been with us, and one or the other will ask if perhaps Hamish could cook dinner tonight, or bring us breakfast in bed.

It was only last night when I was putting Doc’s winter robe away in a vintage armoire we have against that wall that the secret of Hamish was revealed.  The piece in question is an English wardrobe by Ambrose Heal, an Arts and Crafts designer and craftsman who made furniture between 1896 and the 1950’s.

Hand-finished weathered oak, probably from around the time of WWI, it has a right hand door which opens and allows the middle mirrored door to open, revealing slide out shelves on top and five drawers on the bottom.  The left hand door which opens to a section with a bar, which is where we keep our robes.

It seems if this left hand door is not tightly screwed shut, it will gape just enough to creak on its vintage hinges, producing our ‘ghost.’  It doesn’t swing open, which is why we hadn’t figured it out before.

I’m almost sorry I found the cause–I think I’ll keep it to myself.  It’s much more fun having a non-threatening ghost in the house!

For those of you keeping track, Doc is coming along slowly but steadily.  He’s using a Wii game in physical therapy which told him Friday his balance was that of a 75 year old man!  He’s working on it.  But every day he walks a few steps more, and sits up a bit longer in his wheelchair.  He is regularly getting up for an hour for dinner right now, and today sat on the porch in the sun before the rain came, whilst I trimmed his hair and watched the purple martins at play.

I’ve told him his goal is to be reasonably independent by the end of June, when I will leave him with Mom for a week to go to Utah this year for my Screw Iowa Writers Group conference.  Check us out on http://www.screwiowa.com.

And enjoywhat’s left of  your weekend~

Lost in Fiction Saturday, Apr 11 2009 

is the title of an interesting article Auntie M read recently in the Wall St. Journal. It was an essay written by one of my favorite authors, Alexander McCall Smith of the 44 Scotland St series and the Sunday Philosophy Club series, plus two others. (His No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency is currently being shown on HBO with Anthony Mingella directing Jill Scott as the protagonist.  Too bad I don’t get HBO–it sounds delightful.)

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He described the circumstance of finding himself in Australia at a book signing, and running into a ‘fan’ who thought he’d erred in having one of his main characters become involved with (and have a child with) a man 14 years her junior.  Here’s an excerpt:

I defended Isabel’s choice.  “Why shouldn’t they be together?”

The answer came quickly.  “Because it’s not going to go anywhere.”

“But I thought it was going rather well,” I protested.

Again my reader lost no time in replying.  “No, it isn’t,” she said emphatically.

That was my put in my place.  After all, I was merely the author.

Nonplussed, McCall Smith has pondered on this issue of the novelist’s freedom–and responsibility–and he concludes that the real world is not  quite as separate from the fictional world as he’d originally thought when it comes to reader expectations.

Auden is one of the critics who noticed this pattern of reader expectations, which is one writers of crime or mystery fiction have long understood.  After a peaceful beginning, the peace is shattered by an event, usually a crime or murder, which leads to a search for the evildoer.  His apprehension and punishment provide a return to peace.  Auden  noted the reader needs to see a moral balance restored.

This view is also held by my favorite crime writer, P D James, who feel the traditional detective novel “reassures us that we live in a moral universe” where the detective is the agent of justice.  She suggests that in this respect the detective novel replaces the old-fashioned morality play.

So why is the writer of mysteries or detective fiction, as I am, pressured to deal out justice to the bad guys?  It goes beyond the conventions of the genre to a point where Mc Call says: “. . . fiction is in some sense real, and that what happens to fictional people is, in a curious way, happening in the real world.”  It takes a special writer to NOT have the bad guy apprehended and still maintain an audience.  (McCall Smith mentions Patricia Highsmith’s Tom Ripley as one who gets away with murder and continued to be read.)

There is no question that when I am writing, I am hoping my reader will suspend his disbelief and enter the world I create and treat it as real.   I spend a lot of time creating a fictional world that exists within the boundaries of reality so that it will be recognizable to my readers.  But if I create a character who is a murderer and say, also happens to be a lesbian, does that mean I feel lesbians are more capable of murder than others?  Absolutely not.  As matter of history, in the first draft of the particular novel where that happens, the murderer was someone else entirely!  It was during revision that I realized a different character had a much better, and more interesting, motive to be behind the evil acts.

I do go along with the idea of wanting justice restored.  I am known to hate unfairness of any kind.  I am a Libra, after all, and the scales of justice should be equally aligned for me to be happy.  I just don’t want to meet a reader who objects to a particular viewpoint I give to a character, assuming that to be my own personal belief.

I will have to protest firmly,  as McCall Smith suggests: “Remember, it’s just a story.”

Patience and Fortitude Sunday, Apr 5 2009 

Green Girl remarked recently that she was reading about the NY Navy Pier and wished she’d been able to tour there when she was in NYC last year.  She minded me how fortunate Auntie M is to have once lived there and seen the glories that international city has to offer.

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Auntie M loves the New York Public Library and its Lions guarding the main entrance.  They were namedPatience and Fortitude by Fiorello LaGuardia  as the two qualities New Yorkers exhibited that would help them out of the Depression.  At Christmas they are usually garlanded with enormous wreaths around their necks.

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The glorious architecture of the Great Hall alone is worth a pop inside to check it out.  On its right hand side is also a compact but interesting gift shop you can visit without entering the library proper.

Auntie M favorite bit is the magnificent reading room with its unparelled ceiling, the rows upon rows of work tables, now renovated to include plug-ins for laptops–these all make me feel even with the Internet and E-publishing there will always be books in this world.

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So I picked up Linda Fairstein’s newest Alexandra Cooper novel this week with great expectation, as the murder that savvy DA is helping to solve has taken place within the hallowed halls of this great library.  And I haven’t been disappointed.

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A novelist of lesser sway would never get away with throwing this much extraneous history into a book, but Lethal Legacy is Fairstein’s eleventh Cooper novel, so she gets carte blanche on this.

The mystery in this case revolves around the death of a talented young conservator, but in all honesty, the story is not the main character.   The pace is slow but the novel is rich with detailed descriptions of the interior of this lovely building and even more interestingly, of the history behind it.  The infighting between collectors, library trustees and wealthy donors is probably very close to the reality of the situation.  Fairstein must have the ear of quite a few insiders.

Fairstein recounts the layout of the huge building so well you can almost feel yourself traveling down to the lower stacks, where the books are sent up on pneumatic tubes to a central call desk.  This is not a lending library, but a great research center, known throughout the world, and how it came to be that way is largely due to its wealthy endowers at the beginning of the 20th century trying to compete with ancient European libraries.

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Few New Yorkers realize the stacks continue along under Bryant Park, which borders the library grounds.  As they gather there for relaxation by the fountain, concerts on the lawn, or ice skating in winter, they are treading above the millions of books stored beneath their feet.

Fairstein ran the Sex Crimes Unit of the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office for over twenty years, so the workings inside the case are also spot on.  If you enjoy learning about historical places in the midst of a modern mystery, give this one a read.

In My Spare Time Tuesday, Mar 31 2009 

Not that I have any lately with taking care of Doc, but when we were in the med center for week (which was supposed to be two days) and I’d read the book I’d brought, I amused myself when he was napping with the best the gift shop had to offer.  The book I’d brought with me was Hope McIntyre’s How to Marry a Ghost.

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I’d read the first in this series, titled How to Seduce a Ghost and found the characters distinctive and original.   Plus, it was set in England, which I adore.  Her protagonist is a ghost writer who is almost a recluse, with an unusual boyfriend she can’t commit to, and a host of other people sprinkled in.  It was a good read and her debut.  This sequel takes place in the US on Long Island, where I grew up, so I should have loved it.  It also has a host of distinctive people littering it, but I found it to be less enthralling and bit rushed.  Still, I finished it.  And then went on to The Gift Shop Books:

The Death Dealer by Heather Graham.  This mother of five (5! when does she find time to write?) claims to have written over a hundred novels.  This one has mystery, sex, and paranormal events.  A quick, rush of a read.

Mariah Stewart’s Mercy Street follows Cry for Mercy, concerning private investigator Mallory Russo.  There’s romance, missing children, and murder in what the back cover calls “an engaging romantic PI thriller.”  It was.

Last and definitely the steamiest, was Scream for Me by Karen Rose.  This one topped out at 569 pages, unusual for a romantic suspense thriller.  It pairs a nurse trying to find her kidnapped cousin, taking care of said cousin’s little girl who witnessed the brutal beating and kidnap of her mother, and a very muscular Special Agent of the georgia State Bureau of Investigation who is battling demons of his own in the form of his murdering brother.  Or was his brother the murderer?  And how does that tie into this kidnapping and the subsequent bodies that keep turning up?  And the newsman up a tree?  Oh, I could go on and on but this was so silly I had to keep reading to see how she tied up all the loose ends.  In the space of less than a week these two fall in love, and have some of the best sex of their lives on a sofa, against a door, and oh yeah, in a bed, of all places.  What a hoot!  If you want pure brain candy that just keeps on going like the energizer bunny (or this special agent), give this one shout.  Just don’t expect Jane Austen~

What these all had in common was more-than-usual sex. Which, since I bought them all in a hospital, made me grin. And let me live vicariously. . . .yeah, sex, I remember that~

Why I still love Tom Hanks Wednesday, Mar 25 2009 

Tom Hanks has that boy-next-door quality I find so appealing.  I think he’s actually gotten nicer looking as he’s aged.

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He’s not classically handsome, but there’s something about him in goofy roles or serious ones that has always struck me.  I like his diversity, that his wife has a career, too, and that they produce some things together.  It looks like a nice marriage from the outside looking in.

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So it was a happy note I read in People last week, when some stars were asked about their Kindle machines:

Here is what good ol’ Tom had to say:

“I got a Kindle for newspapers and magazines, not for books.  Quite frankly, I prefer to buy books from my neighborhood bookstore.”

See, I knew I liked him!

(PS For those of you wanting to know: Doc is weight-bearing and today hobbled 300 ft in therapy!)

Sheesh! Friday, Mar 6 2009 

I can hear you saying.  She says she’s back and then whoosh, she’s gone again!

Just when I thought things were leveling out at home, Doc lost his balance and fell, fracturing his spine, or so we thought.  So we’re in the second of two hospitals this week, and I’m writing this after he had a bone scan prior to an operation to follow either tomorrow or Monday.  Good thing they did this scan, too, as the spine ultimately wasn’t fractured…his pelvis is, which doesn’t require surgery.   So I must give up my nice bed and two- TV room(Yes, TWO TV’s in the room) and head back in a day or so to the land of rural hospitals and pretzel-inducing chairs for a week before heading home.

To say Doc is  pissed frustrated would be such a gross understatement  I shouldn’t even go there.  The surgery would have relieved this new lower back pain, which now will take its own six weeks to heal.  The med center we are at, however, has the neurosurgery and orthopedics floor in the newest wing, so instead of sleeping in a lounger curled up like a pretzel, I’ve been stretching out in this chair thing that opens each night almost to the size of a twin bed.  And since he’s getting IV meds with the two points of pain now, he’s out for the count and we’re both getting the best rest we’ve had in 12 weeks.  Plus they have wireless here. . .

So when he’s gorked out resting, I’ve managed to read a Reginald Hill I’d missed.

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The Roar of the Butterflies is one of Hill’s Joe Sixsmith series, the black, balding and middle-aged guileless PI who solves crime with his common sense and more than a stroke of luck.  He is the Everyman of crime, hopelessly in sex with a hot nurse who lives near him, and somehow managing to eke out a living solving crime.

This one centers around a poncey golf club, and is worth reading just to hear a main character try to describe the game to non-player Joe.  Different from Hill’s Dalziel and Pascoe series,  the sly wit and crafty plotting remain.  A delicious treat all around.

Catching Up Friday, Feb 27 2009 

Auntie M has been gone: in a physical sense, I was able to get Doc coverage and headed west to Port Townsend, WA for a long weekend celebrating my Screw Iowa writing sister’s MFA graduation.  It was great chance for me to recharge my depleted brain cells, to eat hot meals prepared by someone else, and NOT to deal with daily bed baths, commodes, dogs, sheet changes, exercises, cooking, or physical therapy, not to mention a healthy dose of mental support.  I’d never been to Washington State at all, and would love to go back and explore at my leisure. AND it never rained when I was there!  I stayed in a hotel built in 1898 with 14 ft ceilings over an art gallery and had a great time exploring this neat town.

At home, I’ve been gone in a mental sense: there is not much time to blog, as things are pretty much the same with the added exception of three times a week jaunts to town for the above-mentioned PT.  Since Doc cannot bear weight yet on the bad leg (11 weeks and counting in bed–yikes!) he is working on range of motion to the knee, mostly on his back on a table.  Frank, our great therapist who got me walking again after my bilat knee replacements three years ago, has promised Doc he WILL walk again, although there are some days I know Doc doesn’t believe him.  He is soldiering on, and trying to stay positive, but it’s clearly getting to him.

I’m determined to try to work some time for myself into the daily grind, and to that end, here I am snarking away!  Aren’t you glad I’m back???

Seriously, you need to remember to check out ecowomen.wordpress.com starting next Monday.  The gals are celebrating a YEAR of great eco blogs and there will be giveaways for you to try for, plus neat articles to read.  Yours truly will be blogging next Friday on her eco pet day, too.

On the book end, I’m reading a new one (A Distant Domain, will review when finished) by Val McDermid, that mighty Scot who had the temerity to talk herself into Oxford to read English, and we’re all the better for it.

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She was a journalist for 16 years before writing full time, with a range of novel series and stand- alones that are always a great read.  McDermid writes with great craft and a keen eye for characterization, and is a feisty broad who would approve of that tag.  When I interviewed her a few years ago for “Mystery Review” mag, it was just after lunch and she was craving a large toddie to hold her over until tea time!  She and her partner had just had a little boy, and the tough and tumble author found herself humbled and amazed by the experience.  For those of you not familiar with McDermid, she’s the author of several series, including the PI Kate Brannigan novels and a thriller series featuring criminal profiler Tony Hill, televised under the generic name “Wire in the Blood” starring Robson Green.  Here’s McDermid with Robson, he of the seriously sexy green eyes:

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Her stand alones are equally brilliant and meticulously researched: A Place of Execution won the Anthony Award for Best Novel, while The Mermaids Singing took the Gold Dagger for Best Crime Novel.  The Grave Tattoo follows a Wordsworth scholar to the Lake District, my favorite place on our great Earth.

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That’s the news from NC, where it was 68 today and supposed to snow Sunday night~

Thanks to Google Images

Spudguns Unlimited Monday, Feb 9 2009 

Auntie M is very fond of Appleton, Wisconsin.

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Two of her favorite people live there: author Green Girl with her Team Testosterone; and her artist pal Alice King Case.  Both are great women with artistic brains and savvy sensitivities.

Which is why my ears perked up when Doc was watching the DIY Network last night and a bit from Appleton, Wisconsin came on.   Then I had to chuckle as  I listened as Joel Surprise (his real name?) was interviewed about his business, the Spudgun Technology Center.

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Yes, you read that correctly.  And here is is, above.   An entire business and website dedicated to various methods, equipment and means of shooting POTATOES are far as they can go!  Who knew??

When I’d wiped my eyes, I watched the segment.  Apparently this of great interest to men across the nation, a wonderful pasttime for those males who’ve not outgrown their competitive natures.

Their motto is: “Because we are men, and because we can.”

(I swear I’m not making this up)~

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Just check out the looks of delight on those weirdo’s big galoophs gents faces!

For those of you who want to clue their mates in,  the pressurized models shoot the furthest. . .

(Thanks to Spudgun Tech Ctr. and Google Images)

Clean Cut with Reservations Thursday, Feb 5 2009 

Lynda La Plante has written nine novels and is the creator of the Prime Suspect series I adored with Helen Mirren playing Detective Jane Tennison.

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So when I picked up La Plante’s newest novel featuring Det. Anna Travis I knew I was getting into a well-plotted book with surprises, and this one did not disappoint on that level.  La Plante writes strong female characters with more than a touch of realism, and Clean Cut follows that route.

Travis has been having an affair with DCI James Langton, whose emotional baggage comes to the forefront when he’s almost killed.  His obssessive ruthlessness on a case revolving around illegal immigrants almost destroys him and affects his relationship with Anna, causing her to re-evalutate him, herself and their union.

Here’s Auntie M’s hesitation: the novel lacks good editing.  La Plante uses the word “now” entirely too much, sometimes as much as three times in one paragraph.  I’ve found that writers who are used to writing screenplays tend to do this, but a good editor should have picked up on that.

I also bemoan her lack of apostrophes.  No one, Brit or not, speaks without using them.  Really.  The novel is filled with “I have”, “I will,”  “There was” etc. in dialogue, where natural speech would be: “I’ve” or “I’ll” or “There’s”  at least some of the time.  This has a jarring effect on the reader, bringing you out of the fictional world and cursing the lack of editing.

I perservered as this is the third Anna Travis novel I’ve read, so obviously I’m either a glutton for punishment or La Plante’s storyline exceeds the annoyance.  The other two Anna Travis books are: Above Suspicion and The Red Dahlia.

I’d be interested in hearing if anyone out there reading these novels is bothered by the same things…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Doc goes for an Xray and checkup tomorrow; six weeks and counting.  He’s hopping around twice a day on his good leg for exercise, which exhausts him, but at least he’s out of bed for one hour out of 24 now.

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