Review 2649: #NovNov25! Seascraper

I’m not quite sure what to make of this novella, which was longlisted for the Booker Prize but did not make the shortlist. It’s an atmospheric, closely observed story set in the 1950s that seems as if it is from an earlier time. I read it for Novellas in November.

Thomas Flatt is carrying on the difficult work followed by his grandfather, scraping the sea bottom at low tide for shrimp. He is the only man left doing this grueling job the old-fashioned way, with a horse and wagon, and the pickings are getting slimmer. He didn’t choose this path but was made to quit school to help his grandfather before he died. He lives with his demanding mother, but he has a secret desire to perform music at a local folk club.

One evening he comes home to find a stranger with his mother, an American named Edgar Acheson. He claims to be a movie director and produces as proof a cover of a movie magazine with a photo of his younger self. He wants to make a movie using the dismal fall sea as the setting, and he wants to pay Thomas, as an expert on the beach, to help him find locations. And indeed, the beach at low tide can be treacherous. He gives Thomas a check for £100, an astonishing amount, and arranges for him to take him with his horse and wagon that night.

And that’s pretty much all I want to say about the plot except that it holds surprises. Events happen that allow Thomas to explore feelings about the father he never met and to consider a new path for himself.

This novella was moody and minutely observes the details of Thomas’s exhausting job. It is the novella’s later events that leave me not knowing what to think about it.

Related Posts

The Horseman

The Unseen

The Rathbones

Review 2624: #RIPXX: The Investigator

Contemporary writer Margarita Khemlin has set this story in 1950s Soviet Ukraine, when reverberations from World War II were still going on.

Police Captain Mikhael Ivanovich Tsupkoy unusually gets the case of the murder of a Jewish woman, Lilia Vorobeichik, who has been stabbed with a knife. The situation is unusual because the protocol for a serious crime is to call in a criminal investigator. However, Tsupkoy is able to wrap the case up immediately because Lilia’s boyfriend, Roman Nikoleyeivich Moiseenko, confesses immediately. When he commits suicide in jail, the case is closed.

Later, Tsupkoy catches a glimpse of someone who he thinks is the dead woman. He returns to her house to find her twin sister, Eva, living there. She and another woman are making matzo, which apparently was illegal at the time, but they claim it’s for feeding the chickens. When he does a recheck the next day, he meets a dressmaker, Polina Lvovna Laevskaya. Tsupkoy becomes interested in what’s going on and seems to be still investigating the case.

Because his friend, Jewish veteran Evsey Gutin, knows everyone in the Jewish community in town, Tsupkoy goes to visit him and his wife Belka to ask Evsey about a name he’s come across. Shortly thereafter, when Tsupkoy is on vacation, he learns that Evsey committed suicide.

I found Tsupkoy’s investigation to be confusing, because he keeps returning to the same large group of people to eke out one more fact. In retrospect, it’s hard to reconstruct the order of things. One important point, though, is that after Polina Laevskaya makes allegations that the investigation into Lilia’s death was perfunctory, she begins spreading rumors designed to ruin Tsupkoy’s reputation. People who previously trusted him begin to avoid him.

This novel seemed rather messy structurally. For one thing, I would have loved to see a list of characters like used to be included at the beginning of many Russian novels, because there are lots of them, and they are referred to inconsistently, sometimes by last name, sometimes by first, but more often by a nickname, and hardly ever by their patronymics, as used to be the case. Also, the later investigation, admittedly not official, seems haphazard. Fairly early on, I had an idea who the murderer might be, and although I doubted myself and didn’t come up with an alternative, I was right.

There often seemed to be something going on in the conversation that was unspoken and that I didn’t understand. Maybe that was because of the times and location. Certainly, there is a lot of tension between the Communist ideals and the realities of the Jewish comrades, as what Tsupkov calls Jewish nationalism (which just refers to their traditions, apparently) is illegal. Ethnic groups are supposed to assimilate—and this fact is important to the plot.

Finally, the motive only comes out in the last few pages, and it’s ambiguous and seems weak. If it had been developed a little more, it might have been stronger, but that may have been difficult to do without revealing the killer.

Related Posts

Punishment of a Hunter

The Ukrainian and Russian Notebooks

Drive Your Plow over the Bones of the Dead

Review 2620: The Librarian

In the 1950s, Sylvia Blackwell arrives in the town of East Mole to take on the job of children’s librarian. She finds no fault with the dingy, musty cottage her landlady shows her. She is excited to start her new job and life.

Although she and her boss seem to dislike each other on sight, she fits into the town fairly quickly, reorganizing and making improvements to the library, making friends with her neighbors, all but one, and tutoring her landlady’s granddaughter, Lizzy, for the 11+ exams with the help of her whip-smart, eleven-year-old neighbor, Sam.

By and large, she is a creature of good will, happy to help the children learn and become interested in books. And she is succeeding but has not reckoned with the effects of envy and ill-will. And she makes the mistake of falling in love with a married man.

I thought at first that this book was going to be a standard romance, but it deals with some more complex issues. I was interested in the story and ultimately found it somewhat touching. I felt, though, that Part Two, the last 40 pages, was a little too concerned with trying to tie up every little loose end and takes too long to do it.

Related Posts

The Bookshop

The Library Book

The Sentence

Review 2605: Absolutely & Forever

I have been on the fence about or even disliked some of Rose Tremain’s books, so I wasn’t really looking forward to reading Absolutely & Forever for my Walter Scott Prize Project. I especially wasn’t because I’m not that fond of coming-of-age novels in general. However, I found this little novella to be truly touching and insightful about human emotions. And the coming-of-age part is only the beginning.

It’s the late 1950s and Marianne is 15 years old. She has been in love with beautiful 18-year-old Simon Hurst for some time, and he finally pays attention to her the night of a friend’s party. He has just been given a new Morris Minor car, so he takes her for a ride and they have sex. Marianne says she will love him absolutely and forever.

I thought I knew where this was going, but it wasn’t. Simon and Marianne go off to their respective schools and plan to get married when they are older.

However, Simon fails his Oxford exam. Everyone is shocked, and the next thing Marianne knows, he has moved to Paris to be a writer. Marianne tries to buckle down to her French so that she can move there as soon as possible, but she is clearly not good at studying. Her parents tell her they are certainly not going to allow her to visit Simon in Paris when she is only 15.

Simon’s letters eventually fall off, and in the last one she gets the bad news. Simon has gotten his landlady’s daughter pregnant and married her.

The novella follows Marianne as she grows into womanhood, works at some jobs but seems to have little purpose in life. She marries her good friend Hugo (who I felt was a much better person than Simon). But she continues to love Simon.

The heart wants what it wants is the theme of this touching novel. And it tells the story beautifully, narrated by the distinctive voice of Marianne.

The book blurb hints at some secret, and it’s not very hard to guess. But that’s not the point. I found this book to be wise and deeply touching.

Related Posts

The Gustav Sonata

Merivel: A Man of His Time

Lessons in Chemistry

Review 2599: The Lonely Girl

The Lonely Girl is the second novel in Edna O’Brien’s The Country Girls trilogy. The trilogy is quite autobiographical without matching the details of O’Brien’s life exactly. I did a little reading about O’Brien lately and was interested to learn that her books were originally banned in Ireland because of their frankness about sex and other women’s issues.

If you haven’t read the first volume, you may not always understand what’s going on at first. It is very short, so I recommend it.

Caithleen and her friend Baba are still living in a rooming house in Dublin at the beginning of the novel. I was happy to learn that Caithleen has broken with Mr. Gentleman. However, the girls are living a giddy life, crashing parties, trying to find men to buy their drinks, and hanging out with people Caithleen disapproves of. They are happy to be thought fast but still very innocent and silly.

We saw in the first novel that Caithleen is attracted to older men, and early in the novel, she meets Eugene Gaillard, a documentary film maker, who is older. He is obviously attracted to her, but it is she who takes the initiative to see him. Although he is attracted by her freshness and innocence, he doesn’t understand how innocent she is. Eventually, she finds out that he has been married, and although they are separated, they are not divorced. Caithleen is still very Catholic, so there would be a problem even if he were divorced.

Some ill-wisher gets involved and sends anonymous letters around, including to her father, which makes a difficult situation even worse. I was struck by how everyone assumes these letters are true (they are not) without asking her.

Although I think Caithleen is very silly at times, she is struggling with a lot considering her total ignorance of sex, her uncertainty with Eugene, her jealousy of Eugene’s wife, and so on. She is kind of a wet noodle in this one, always in tears, but I still want to find out what’s next.

Related Posts

The Country Girls

Wild Decembers

A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing

Review 2581: Murder at Gulls Nest

I messed up a bit with this book. What happened was that as soon as I heard about it, I pre-ordered it because I love Jess Kidd’s books. Then a few months later, although I am no longer active on NetGalley, I received an email from a publicist asking if I would like a review copy. I answered, as I have for other books, that I would love to if I could get a paperback rather than an ebook.

As usual when I make this request, I got no reply, so I dismissed it from my mind. Then, when I received a copy quite a bit later, I assumed it was my pre-order, not even noticing that it was a review copy. I put it at the top of my pile, which I have been ignoring while I try to finish A Century of Books (now complete!). I apologize to that publicist, because I have missed the dates. It wasn’t until my pre-order arrived that I realized my mistake, but then I read it immediately. So, here’s my review—better late than never.

It’s the 1950s. Nora Breen, looking disheveled, arrives in a seaside town in winter. She is a middle-aged ex-nun who has renounced her vows, and she has arrived because her friend Frieda, sent from the monastery for her health, has stopped writing. That is unlike Frieda, and Nora is worried about her.

Nora has taken a room at Gulls Nest, a sad rooming house, where she finds she is to occupy Frieda’s room. She learns that Frieda just disappeared one evening, no one apparently being surprised by it.

The occupants of the house are a mixed crew. Helena Wills, a widow, is the owner, but she spends almost all her time in bed and lets Irene Rawlings, the grim housekeeper who has lots of rules, run it. Helena also has a young daughter Dinah, who is all but feral. As she arrives, Nora watches a young couple from afar, Teddy and Stella Atkins, and notices them appearing to quarrel. She also sees another lodger, Karel Ježek, stomp on Teddy’s hat. Other lodgers are Bill Carter, an ex-Navy cook who works as a bartender, and Professor Poppy, an old Punch and Judy puppeteer who is rumored to be an aristocrat.

Although Nora goes immediately to the police, Inspector Rideout thinks there’s nothing unusual about someone who was living at Gulls Nest disappearing without warning. Nora has decided not to reveal to anyone else her friendship with Frieda, hoping she will learn more if no one is aware of it. However, she is feeling frustrated when Teddy is found dead in Poppy’s workshop behind the house, poisoned with cyanide in his coffee. Teddy often had coffee with Poppy before work. Inspector Rideout is thinking suicide, but Stella says not. She has just told him she is pregnant. So, did Teddy commit suicide or was he murdered? If he was murdered, was he the intended victim or was Poppy? Finally, is Teddy’s death related to Frieda’s disappearance?

Like Kidd’s other books, this one has some eccentric characters, although it is perhaps not as unexpected as her others. Still, it has some likable characters and some twists, as Nora begins to blossom out into this new world. A secret about the relationship between two characters was one I guessed fairly quickly, but I was unable to figure out a motive for what turns out to be not just one murder.

Fun stuff!

I received this book from the publisher in exchange for a free and fair review.

Related Posts

The Night Ship

The Hoarder

Things in Jars

Review 2569: #1952Club! Mrs. McGinty’s Dead

It’s time for the 1952 Club, for which participants review books written in 1952 on the same week. What would a year club set between the 1930s and the 1960s be without an Agatha Christie? So, this book became one of my choices for the 1952 Club, especially good because I hadn’t read it before.

However, first, as usual, I have a list of the books I’ve reviewed previously that were written in 1952:

And now for my review.

Hercule Poirot is retired, and the days are passing slowly. So, he is happy to look into a case for an old acquaintance, Inspector Spence. An old cleaning lady was apparently murdered for her savings by her lodger. All the evidence points that way, and the lodger was found guilty. But Inspector Spence isn’t satisfied that he did it, and there is little time to investigate before he is hung.

So, Poirot journeys to a small village—only four houses and a post office. He meets a few people and seems to be getting nowhere when a chance remark gives him an idea. Mrs. McGinty had purchased ink at the post office, which meant she intended to write a letter, and she was so unaccustomed to writing letters that she had no ink. Who was she writing to?

Going back to look through some of her things, he finds a newspaper with an article ripped out. When he finds the paper at the archive, he sees the article is a “Where are they now?” piece about females connected with four infamous crimes, with old photos from 20 years before. He reckons that Mrs. McGinty, in her work as a cleaner, saw one of those photos at the home of a regular client. Someone in the village has a relationship with one of those women, but what kind of relationship? The field broadens as he considers. Is it the woman herself? A relative or spouse? With the range in age of the original females, the woman could now be anywhere from her 30s to her 50s.

And that was the problem. There are too many people in this book, many of them suspects, and Christie didn’t do her usual job of making them instantly specific. I couldn’t keep track of them by their names. The only distinctive villager at first is Maureen Summerhayes, Poirot’s incompetent hostess, who can’t cook and is completely disorganized, but I soon thought of her as Maureen, so that by the time there was a reference to Mr. Summerhayes, I had forgotten he was Maureen’s husband.

Fairly early on, Poirot meets his old friend the author, Ariadne Oliver. She is staying with the playwright Robin Upward while they try to adapt one of her books for the theater. Mrs. Upward is another of Mrs. McGinty’s clients, and thus a suspect.

I never thought of the murderer as a suspect, but I also felt I wasn’t given much of a reason to. I just didn’t think this was one of Christie’s best.

I was also struck by how little any of Mrs. McGinty’s clients cared that she was dead. There’s some real classism going on here (including the idea that she had to buy ink because she never wrote any letters; even if it happened to be true; anyone might have to buy ink).

Related Posts

The Mirror Crack’d from Side to Side

Sparkling Cyanide

Sad Cypress

Review 2568: The Quiet American

I long ago saw the movie version of The Quiet American starring Michael Caine and Brendan Frasier, but I couldn’t remember the details. I need to read more Greene, so when this book filled a hole in my A Century of Books project, I found a copy.

The narrator, Thomas Fowler, is an aging British reporter in Saigon, a cynical, world-weary man. The time setting is the early 1950s, when it was the French fighting the Communists in Vietnam. Fowler has lived a long time in Vietnam and has a young mistress named Phuong whom he cares for more than he admits.

At the beginning of the novel, he learns that an American, Alden Pyle, is dead. Then the story backtracks to his meeting with Pyle, a young naïve man who has just arrived in the country. Fowler catches on fairly quickly that Pyle has no real understanding of the country or its people but some half-baked ideas about Vietnam based on a book by an author who spent one week in the country. However, Pyle is not receptive to other ideas (until it’s too late).

Fowler invites Pyle to his home, where he meets Phuong. Very quickly, Pyle decides that he is in love with Phuong and tells Fowler he can make a better life for her, so he will court her but not behind Fowler’s back. He seems to have no conception that this may be painful for Fowler.

Fowler is married, so he cannot marry Phuong, but he writes a letter to his wife asking for a divorce—a request he’s fairly sure will be denied. At about the same time, he receives notice that he has been promoted and should return to London, but all he wants is to stay in Saigon with Phuong. He writes asking to stay.

He knows, though, that Phuong, although she cares for him, is probably ultimately going to be practical and take the young man who can marry her—egged on by her older sister, who has always thought Phuong could do better.

With this situation between them, Fowler begins hearing rumors about Pyle’s activities in Vietnam.

There are some suspenseful passages in this story, but what Greene does even better is get into the motivations of his characters. Of course, all the Americans in the novel are clueless oafs (except Pyle, who is clueless but not an oaf), and the women are disregarded. Phuong’s sister has more of a personality than Phuong does, and in one passage, Greene has Fowler basically say to Pyle that Phuong doesn’t think. (All she does in her own time is dance, visit her sister, and read movie magazines.)

If you can get past these caveats, this is a really good, suspenseful and psychological novel. None of the characters are particularly likable, but at some points you feel a lot of sympathy for Fowler.

Related Posts

The Lotus Eaters

Lyndon Johnson and the American Dream

Perfume River

Review 2560: #ReadingIrelandMonth25! The Country Girls

I have read many very long books lately, so I was relieved when I realized that I could read the first novel, The Country Girls, in my big volume of The Country Girls Trilogy for 1960 for my A Century of Books project. Not only that, but it would qualify for Reading Ireland, too! I will certainly read the other two novels at some time after I finish my project.

Just as another indication of the unreliability of Goodread’s list of books published for specific years, it had listed the trilogy for 1960, but all three novels as a single volume were not published until 1986.

Caithleen is 14 at the beginning of the novel, a naïve, gawky girl from Western Ireland. She adores her mother, but they both fear her father when he is drunk. Their house is falling apart, because her father routinely blows all their money when he is drunk and returns angry and violent.

The other girl is Baba, Caithleen’s frenemy, who bullies her in public and pulls nasty tricks on her but sometimes shows she likes her. Otherwise, her friends are older men—Hickey, who has worked for the family for years; the inappropriately behaving Jack, a pub owner; and Mr. Gentleman, who is middle aged and married but whom she likes.

Caithleen has won a scholarship to a convent school and is dismayed to learn that Baba is going, too. She tells Caithleen that scholarships are stupid, and her parents are paying her way, which obviously is better. Both girls are dreading going. Caithleen is suffering through a party at Baba’s house when People come to tell her that her mother is dead, having drowned crossing the Shannon when a boat sank.

The novel follows the two girls until they are 18 and get a room together in Dublin. All the while, Baba specializes in talking the more sensible and cautious Caithleen into situations where she gets into trouble.

This novel is a bit sad, a little funny, and true-to-life, as the naïve Caithleen follows more worldly Baba in their unusual friendship. Some tension is evoked by Caithleen’s continued friendship with Mr. Gentleman. I liked the novel very much and intend to read the other two of the trilogy.

Related Posts

Girl

Wild Decembers

A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing

Review 2550: Literary Wives! Lessons in Chemistry

Today is another review for the Literary Wives blogging club, in which we discuss the depiction of wives in fiction. If you have read the book, please participate by leaving comments on any of our blogs.

Be sure to read the reviews and comments of the other wives!

My Review

I finally got to read Lessons in Chemistry. It’s been sitting in my pile for more than a year waiting its turn for the club.

Elizabeth Zott is a chemist in the 1950s, when any career for a woman besides secretary, teacher, or nurse is unusual. She was accepted as a Ph.D. candidate at her university when her advisor sexually assaulted her, so she stabbed him with a pencil. Although he had a reputation, she was accused of cheating and expelled. So, she has no doctorate.

She gets a job at Hastings Laboratories in a town in California, but she is treated like a secretary. However, she meets Calvin Evans, a scientific genius with no social skills, and after a misunderstanding, she interests him in the work she is doing on abiogenesis. Soon, they fall in love. The people at their workplace interpret their synergy to Zott’s ambition to succeed. The couple acquires a dog, which they name Six Thirty (a great, if slightly unlikely, character). Zott is determined not to be married because she knows any breakthroughs she makes will be attributed to Calvin, but Calvin determines to ask her to marry him. We never find out how this will work out, because he is killed in a freak accident.

I may seem to be giving a lot away, but there’s a lot more to this story. For one thing, Garmus has created a unique character in Elizabeth Zott. She is straightforward, forthright, and determined to be treated equally with men. She doesn’t understand the meaning of compromise or of hidden messages.

I know I’m not conveying what this book is like, though. Despite the many obstacles and injustices that Elizabeth encounters, the tone of this novel is light and often funny, as Elizabeth misunderstands the other characters, and they misunderstand her. Yet, the novel has a strong message of feminism, and if younger readers think the misogyny in it is exaggerated, I can tell you it isn’t. (I remember talking to my father, who was a vice president of a large corporation, about a job interview at his company—for which, by the way, he gave me no assistance because he thought it would be unethical. I complained that the first thing they wanted to do was give me a typing test. He told me that was how to get started. I asked him if he had to pass a typing test when he first went to work. He didn’t understand my point.)

As someone who wanted to be a boy when I was a child, because boys got to do things, I really related to Elizabeth Zott. She’s a great character, and I loved this book.

What does this book say about wives or about the experience of being a wife?

Literary Wives logo

The marriage examined in this book is more of an implied one about everyone else, since Elizabeth and Calvin aren’t married. The problems that Elizabeth has are rooted in the attitudes about marriage at the time, the clichés that Elizabeth doesn’t want to have anything to do with—that the wife is the homemaker and mother, and the husband earns the bread, that women don’t have careers, that the women who work are basically there to be sex toys for their bosses, that women are subservient to their husbands and probably not even intelligent, that in terms of science, findings would be attributed to the husband.

Elizabeth and Calvin, the main relationship in the book, are not married, and they have an intellectual synergy that is above these notions. But the implications of the notions have all their coworkers buzzing that Elizabeth is sleeping her way to the top, rather than that she is contributing to the work intellectually.

The point of the novel is to break all these stereotypes and show what Elizabeth is able to do despite all the setbacks. And have fun reading about it.

Related Posts

Euphoria

Recipe for a Perfect Wife

The Time of Women