I've read three books since my last post. One of these falls into the category of "superficial and implausible"; a second is in the category of "if this was not a famous author, the book would likely not have been published"; and the third is "close to brilliant."
I was in a library a few weeks back that I'd never visited before. It was right near the airport and I was picking up Donna later in the day. Since I planned to go to a library near home and wait for her call, I figured I would find a library near the airport so that when I learned the plane landed, it would take me no time to get to the terminal. And that, for any Bostonians who are library people and who are scheduled to pick someone up at Logan, is the way to go. Once I got the call I was at the gate before she retrieved her luggage. While I was doing what I do in a library I saw a display of books that librarians had highlighted. I can't recall now if these were "staff picks" or just books the librarians thought patrons might like. One was called, The Last Thing he Told Me. It is a page turner. However, when you get done turning the pages, you're left holding something superficial and implausible, such that you (or at least I) figure that the value of the easy read is outweighed by the loss of time reading something that evaporates within moments of having completed the reading. In this, apparently very popular, novel a man disappears leaving his wife with a stepdaughter who is not crazy about the wife. The wife attempts to find her sweetheart and earn the respect of the surly stepdaughter. Twists and turns like you wouldn't believe--literally--you would not believe them. The husband, go figure, is not the guy he said he was. His history is not the history he had described to his wife. How the stepdaughter and wife learn this is through a series of implausible, but readable, escapades. In the end, guess what, the good wife earns the respect of the stepdaughter who seems, absolutely improbably, to be well adjusted despite what she has learned about her dad and her biological mother. In short, if you are on a plane and have nothing to read, you could do worse, but don't expect Tolstoi.
I request books from the library when I read a review that makes the book seem interesting. From now on I will write down, when I make the request, where I saw the review and why I was intrigued. The Latecomer is one of these books. I received a notice from my library that the request was in, so I picked up this book that I'd forgotten I'd requested. Bottom line. Very well written book. Longish 430 plus pages, but the author is able to describe events and people in a way that is, literally, marvelous. (i.e. I marveled at her skill). Basic plot line: a woman marries a man who she knew ahead of time was carrying a heavy heart and guilt. Nevertheless she wants to marry him and procreate. However, she can't conceive. Eventually through a doctor's intervention and modern science, she has triplets. Much of the book describes the triplets, and the parents. While I am not sure the kids could be as described, they are described vividly. I cannot relay who the latecomer is without giving something up that the author wishes the reader to figure out, or be surprised when it is revealed. With some pride I will comment that I predicted who the latecomer was after only about 100 pages. There is one event near the end however, that really was startling and again I marveled how the author prepared the reader for that revelation. In short: Highly recommended. Some tidy stuff at the end which I can't believe would have happened, but maybe. Snowed in for the weekend. You can do worse that settle in with this book.
I've been a fan of Scott Turow's since he wrote the magnificent, Presumed Innocent. I read it about 30 years ago and I've yet to read a comparable legal thriller. Since then I've read nearly all, if not all, of his books. They are almost always engaging, though none compares favorably with his first novel. I was in the library a week back and saw a STAFF PICKS section and there was a recent Scott Turow, called Suspect. The first 200 pages of this was engaging and classic Turow. The main character is the granddaughter of the main character in Burden of Proof, Sandy Stern, who was also a very important character in Presumed Innocent. Since I have read nearly all his books I recall many of the names, but not all of the details about characters who appeared in previous novels. I think he threw some characters from the past in the book to reward loyal readers as they are not all central to this book. The granddaughter, however, is, central. And there are several references to Stern, now living in Assisted Living. After the first two hundred pages, the rest of Suspect turns into high tech gratuitous gobblegook, and an ending that just could not and would not have happened in so many ways. The book read like half way through Turow said to his kid (I don't know if he has a kid) who kept nagging the dad saying "I can write better than you" to go knock himself out. It's terrible. Inclusion of completely irrelevant characters. Disappearance of central characters. Characters that blur into each other. Just not good. One thing I liked is that he attempts to deal with gender inequities. The book is about a police chief who is accused of sexually harassing cops in exchange for promotion. The thing is the chief is a woman and the allegedly harassed cops, men. The main character is a sexually active bisexual woman who discusses her amorous activities in a way that is not intended to make her seem promiscuous. And I think Turow did this deliberately to try and put a dent (or question mark at least) on the very much lingering double standard--as well as the insidious puritanical attitudes our society still has about sex. Still, even with these positives, the book disappoints. The plot does not pass the "is it ridickalus" sniff test. I can't recommend Suspect and am surprised that a librarian staff member did.
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