Blackfly Season by Giles Blunt

Blackfly Season
by Giles Blunt
Random House, 2005
326 pages

And now for something completely different. Also, I'm back to keeping track of my editions and page numbers, after a completely inexplicable lapse.

I'm not going to be reviewing all the books I'm reading for the upcoming training retreat, because to be frank, I am not reading them all terribly thoroughly. I am skipping through a bunch of them very quickly in an effort to get through the list in time. I figure it's better to have a taste of more of them than an in-depth knowledge of only a few of them. Well, and if I'm being honest, almost none of the books on the list were books I would ever consider picking up on my own; and while it is a good thing to read outside of my comfort zone every once in a while, there are good reasons that some of those would never have made it onto my list. I'm a pretty good judge of what puts me off a book. And as far as I can tell, I will never be a chick lit fan, for example, and a half-reading of Marion Keyes' Anybody Out There? has not convinced me otherwise. I can see why people like it, but I just don't.

I thought I would review this one for sure because I read the first half very closely, and only stopped reading it as though I would a normal book when ... well, I'll get to that in the review. Blunt is also an author I've been quite interested in, and would eventually have picked up on my own. I'll read more of him, too, if this book is any indication.

The mystery starts with a red-haired woman no one has seen before wandering out of the woods and into a bar in the small city of Algonquin Bay, confused and suffering from amnesia. When she's taken to hospital and examined, it turns out she can't remember anything because she's been shot in the head; the bullet is lodged in her brain. John Cardinal and Lisa Delorme take on the case. And then the body count starts with the discovery of a horribly, possibly ritually mutilated body and the suspicion that perhaps the two cases are connected. Heroin, biker gangs, maggots and strange shamans are all tangled up together in a case where nothing is quite as it seems.

The mystery itself is pretty interesting, but what got me hooked to start was the characters. We don't meet any of the mains other than the amnesiac redhead in the first scene; in fact, it takes place in the eyes of a character we never see again. The first scene is absolutely brilliant, I think, and remains my favourite part of the whole book. The writing is very good throughout; it is intense, occasionally funny, perfectly concise without being choppy or losing any description. Most of the characters are sympathetic and interesting, with enough depth to be believable. The first half of the story was so engaging that I literally did not hear someone calling my name at one point while I was reading.

The other thing I really liked was the humanity of the mystery, the decency of the characters involved. Some of the things that happen are pretty horrific (I'll get to this in a second; first spoiler warning) but the sheer likability and humility of John Cardinal and Lisa Delorme, combined with their careful, methodical and believable unraveling of clues, makes the other bearable. The way Cardinal deals with a situation with his wife Catherine throughout was so tender and honest that I couldn't help but become invested not only in him solving the mystery, but in him as a person.

The book began to lose me in a couple of ways, though. First of all, one of the perspectives we get is of Kevin, a small-time heroin dealer and aspiring poet who is, as we discover slowly, in the thick of things. I think he was supposed to be a sympathetic character, and I guess he was, because watching his storyline was like watching a train wreck in slow motion, pretty much from the moment we meet him. The reader knows that things are going to go south pretty quickly, but Kevin is both obtuse and willfully blind, and while that's realistic it was also really frustrating and somewhat stressful to read.

And then we also get some chapters from the perspective of the murderer, which always bugs me for two reasons: 1) I've never liked spending time in deranged, murderous minds, and 2) it spoils the mystery. We now know who is responsible, rather than having a couple of pretty good guesses. I know some people like this sort of thing, that the mystery and interest comes from seeing if the detectives can figure it out, and if they can figure it out in time; but me, it stresses me out.

I don't read to be stressed out. I guess this means I'm not a big fan of suspense/thriller novels.

/spoiler alert

And finally, I can't discuss why I lost interest without discussing this -- one of the things I was enjoying at the beginning was that the crimes and criminals were ostensibly pretty run-of-the-mill; drug running and rival gangs. Ugly stuff, no doubt, but believable and all the more fascinating to me because of their ordinariness and frightening in their banality. Cardinal and Delorme plod their way through the correct procedures, gathering evidence and consulting experts.

But then it all goes a little bit sideways. It starts out slowly, so one realizes that there might (or might not) be an element of the supernatural in this. This question is never resolved entirely, for which I am glad. But it elevates the ordinariness of the criminal activity to extraordinary evil, the run-of-the-mill storyline to something so weird and horrifying that it was, for me, overload. It was just too much. It was almost a little cliched -- "Look at how AWFUL this guy is! Look at how EVIL!" There are scenes that are there expressly to make us understand just how twisted the murderer is, and also possibly how supernaturally powerful he is.

/end spoilers

That's where I lost interest. The stakes were suddenly unbelievably high, for the story I had started reading, and so I started skipping and flipping through to read the parts about Cardinal and Delorme, and to leave the other perspectives out. Because I did want to know what happened to Cardinal especially, and I did, of course, want to know if they got the bastard.

So, I would recommend this one to people who really like suspense novels, those who enjoy crime novels from multiple perspectives, for fans of police procedurals (that part was extremely well done) and for whom character matters. It wasn't exactly my cup of tea, in the end, but I wouldn't hesitate to pick up another Cardinal and Delorme mystery if it were to come my way.

*re-read* Sorcery & Cecelia by Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer

As stated, I've been pottering my way through some of Wrede's books because I really, really need them right now. I've been forced to read some things outside of my usual list due to training, which is a good thing and a bad thing. It's good because it's for a reader's advisory workshop and so widening my reading circle will be very helpful. It's bad because I hate being forced to read anything for any purposes (I now have a little over a week in which to read To The Lighthouse, for example, sigh, and I've been strangely slow about finding myself a copy...) and it tends to make me very irritable. So I have promised myself that for each book I read that I must, I can slip another one in there that I want. Books like Wrede's Regency England fantasies are such a perfect balm.

I read and reviewed Sorcery and Cecelia not that long ago, so I'm not going to go into a summary of it this time. But it was just as delightful the second time through, which justifies the purchase. And also, in my mind, justifies the purchase of the next two books in this series sight unseen. Ahem.

This is partially a book about effective communication. Cecy and Kate communicate very effectively with each other. They explain what is happening, they bounce ideas off each other, they lay out their theories and have a strong back and forth conversation. Something I noticed a lot more this time was how little the men, specifically James and Thomas, communicate to Kate and Cecy. And that many of the problems the girls cause (because they are both troublemakers) stem from this lack of communication. They are basically fumbling about, completely in the dark, using snippets of second-hand information and scraps thrown to them by the men, to try and figure out what the heck is happening -- this, though their stake in the game is entirely as large as either James' or Thomas'.

At first it irked me how little the men seemed to think of Cecy and Kate (as it clearly irked the girls, too) but then I realized that this is the more realistic scenario, for that time period; men and women didn't talk except in highly structured, socially-acceptable ways. The men wouldn't have thought that either Cecy or Kate could grasp the severity of the situation, or come up with any useful way to help, since they're just women, after all. Thomas even calls Kate "my dear half-wit" for a significant portion of the novel, though he cuts that out (thankfully, because that also irritated me as much as it irritated Kate) once it becomes quite clear that she's not vapid at all. Once he actually starts talking to her, rather than just deciding things for her. I thought, incidentally, that it was hilarious that she completely wrecked a plan of his simply because he hadn't bothered to tell her anything about it, though she played a significant part in it.

It is all quite infuriating as a reader, to want to sit down and shake the characters until they just talk to each other. It helps that it's infuriating for the girls, too, and it helps even more that it becomes very clear that it's a losing game when people don't talk to each other. Wrede uses the time period and societal conventions very effectively to showcase this point.

So, yes. I have ordered both the next books. I'm looking forward to reading them when they come in; it should be a riot.

Mairelon the Magician by Patricia C. Wrede

So, I have been having trouble finding things I want to read. It's been pretty serious; it has been to the point where I feel irritated with books just for sitting there on the desk, accusing me. This happens sometimes with various aspects of my life, but only very rarely with books. So I went back to my old standby: fantasy written by authors I know I like. I settled on Mairelon the Magician because I couldn't believe I hadn't read it yet; I love Wrede's writing, and her stories which are generally gentle on the brain, and her feisty, witty, and intelligent female leads.

Of course, when I picked it up, it turns out... I have read it. I had just forgotten what the title of that particular story I loved was. Also, I am pretty sure I have read the sequel, Magician's Ward, and recall enjoying it if not being quite as enamoured of it as I was the first book.

So anyway, I read Mairelon again, and I think I have enjoyed it even more the second time, because I know what to watch for. And I read it much more as a fantasy with hints of Pygmalion than I had before, too, though not sure why that slipped me by last time as it's really quite blindingly obvious, down to Mairelon teaching the guttersnipe Kim to speak properly so as to be presentable in society. That said, Mairelon is not half the ass Higgins is; this reads like an entertaining rags-to-riches fairytale rather than a prickly lampooning of classism and sexism. And while I appreciate Shaw's brilliance and have always liked Pygmalion (particularly with its unromanticized ending) it's not exactly an easy, fun read. Mairelon is. Where Pygmalion is funny and wince-inducing and occasionally horrifying, Mairelon is funny and sweet.

The premise is that Kim is a street kid in an alternate London, where magic is known and practiced, sometime around the early 1800s. She's managed to disguise herself as a boy so far, though her luck on that is going to run out shortly. So that's why she takes a job snooping for a man she doesn't trust; he's promised her five pounds and that money might just be enough to get her off the street. Unfortunately, the snooping takes place in a wagon that happens to be owned by a real magician, and Kim springs a trap. But rather than turning her over to the authorities, the magician thinks Kim might be somewhat useful to him and offers her a job as his apprentice. She takes it, because it gets her out of London -- and Kim's curious as to what the mysterious Mairelon is truly up to.

I really did enjoy this book, thoroughly, and I've actually ordered A Matter of Magic in for purchase at my favourite local bookstore -- that's the recently released omnibus edition that includes Mairelon the Magician and its sequel, Magician's Ward. It's a good re-read, and has firmly established itself in my list of comfort books. There's something about the Regency time period, magic, Wrede's sense of humour, and romance, that I just cannot get enough of. There's enough action to keep the plot clipping along smoothly, the villains are creepy enough (Laverham, Kim's nemesis, is downright chilling) and the world believable enough to create an excellent whole. This isn't serious, hard, thought-provoking reading. There's no deeper message, no social commentary other than the obvious bits on the surface. It's an absolute riot, though, and exactly my kind of thing.

And I couldn't get enough of it, so I read Sorcery and Cecelia all over again. That re-read review will be coming up.

The School of Essential Ingredients by Erica Bauermeister

One of our regular patrons at the library blew in the other day with this book in her hand, declaring that we must read it, all of us, and preferably immediately. It would only take us an afternoon, she said. We would love it. We would not want to put it down. Uncharacteristically, I took her up on it. I tend to have a set list of things that I'm reading or about to read, and I very rarely step out of line. It did help that this was on the list, and has been on my radar for some time. It just wasn't really technically next. But nothing had been exciting to me lately, so when she pressed the book into my hands, it seemed like fate and I took it home that night.

It took me considerably longer than an afternoon, but I don't blame the book. Life and things like work and sleep and food (and okay, trying to get to the end of freaking Super Paper Mario) get in the way of reading, especially right now. But while I didn't finish it in an afternoon, I understand her enthusiasm for this book. It's a genuinely lovely read, one that let me get a little choked up and smile. And when I did close it for the final time, I felt completely satisfied, as after a really excellent meal where I probably ate a bit too much and a bit too rich, but it was worth it.

Lillian is a chef with her own restaurant, and on Monday nights she teaches cooking classes to a lucky few who come to her School of Essential Ingredients. We progress chronologically through a single session, each chapter following one participant. Each person in the class has their secret pains and joys and challenges, and we learn about these in between delicious descriptions of the foods they're learning to prepare. And by the end of each class, each person has begun their process of healing, or growing, or rediscovering themselves with a little help from really excellent food.

This is a book for foodies. If some of my big coffee table cookbooks are food porn, this book is definitely food erotica. Bauermeister spares no ingredient a loving and leisurely description. Right up front it is clear that food holds a vital place in this story. Scents, textures, and tastes don't just make for a good meal -- they evoke emotions, memories, and ideas in the people experiencing them. While I'm convinced that food, both the eating and the cooking, is therapeutic, that's taken to mystical extent in this novel. In Lillian's kitchen, and finally in the kitchens of her students, food is magic.

It is a story about food, certainly. It's also a story about the parts of ourselves we keep buried, and how underneath exteriors every single person has a complicated story. Some challenges faced by the characters are mundane, some are metaphysical, some are mental, some are medical. It ranges from Antonia, who is trying to design an appropriate kitchen for a client and is stumped, to Tom, who is working through the premature death of his wife. I really like stories like this. There's not so much an overarching plot as an interconnecting series of little plots about where each life starts to intersect.

The writing is usually quite good. While it would take some hella precocious child to actually think this way, I loved the language and image:

In Lillian's mind, her mother was a museum for words; Lillian was an annex, necessary when space became limited in the original building.

It occasionally overreaches, slipping from a magical or dream-like quality into purple prose. I suspect everyone's line is slightly different, and actually, I think my line between the two varies depending on my mood. I suspect that I was feeling pretty tolerant throughout this reading, and could occasionally see things that might have bothered me if I was feeling in a more concise mood. When Bauermeister's language works, it works very well. When it doesn't, it feels obviously contrived and excessively poetic. Some of the structure works and doesn't in the same way. Portions of the epilogue, while I was glad to have it overall, are a case in point. We slipped across the line of "believably happy" to "a little too good to be true."

If you're looking for something with excitement or thrills, this is definitely not it. But as a quiet, contemplative, and really sweet interweaving story, this is a great read. I've decided I need to read some more magic realism foodie books -- I've always wanted to read Chocolat, so keep an eye out for that one coming up, maybe.

How to Train Your Dragon by Cressida Cowell

How to Train Your Dragon
by Cressida Cowell, read by David Tennant
Hodder Children's Books, 2004
4 cds

This is a first for this blog: an audiobook review! Yes, I have finished one! It was a combination of the engaging story and the mellifluous tones of David Tennant, who could read the phone book and have an avid listener in me. Actually, I should probably give Tennant the lion's (dragon's?) share of the credit here. I have never enjoyed an audiobook so thoroughly, at least in recent memory. I do remember listening to Letters from Wingfield Farm by Dan Needles and The Speckled Band by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle avidly as a child. The Elephant's Child by Kipling, narrated by Jack Nicholson with music by Bobby McFerrin, remains my firm standard for the best audiobook and possibly one of the best things ever. But lately? I have taken out many audiobooks from the library, and finished none of them.

Except this one. I know there has been a movie, and I know kids have enjoyed reading this book, but it has largely flown under my radar. But it crossed the desk the other day and I thought, you know what, I'm going to try it. This summer has involved a lot more driving than usual, and while I love me some CBC Radio One, they're pretty bad about re-broadcasting in the summer. So it's nice to have something on hand for emergencies. And pretty much from the opening moments I knew that I was going to enjoy this story.

Hiccup is a Viking. He's the son of the Chief of the Hairy Hooligans. The problem is, Hiccup is not much of a Viking at all. He prefers peace and quiet for thinking to violence and mayhem; he's far more brain than brawn. Therefore, he's also the constant target for bullying by his brawnier cousin Snotlout (who would very much like to depose Hiccup) and his followers. This only gets much worse after the boys claim their dragons, and Hiccup ends up with a... rather unique dragon, shall we say? I don't want to spoil anything, as the initial dragon catching is half the fun. The second half of the fun comes when an enormous Sea Dragonus Maximus washes up in a cove, and it's possible that Hiccup and his dragon may be the only hope the tribe has of survival.

The story is silly and charming, walking a fine line between being a bit too twee and really funny. In fact, if I was reading this story, I could see the puns being almost too irritating; but as a read-aloud, particularly by the supremely talented Tennant, it's awesome. I laughed out loud at several points. Tennant has found the perfect voice for the various characters, with the exception of Hiccup's dragon who I did find to be almost unlistenable (but I suspect that might be at least partially on purpose.)

The characters are entertaining and very endearing and/or evil, depending on what they're supposed to be. At least, that is for those characters who are fleshed out enough to have personalities. This being the first in a series, I think there are lots of opportunities for further character development in both the mains and the secondaries.

The humour appeals largely to my kid-brain, with snot, for example, being copiously mentioned, and a seven-foot Viking trying to appear heroic in his sister's dress. Highly recommended for children between -- oh, the ages of six or seven, and ten or twelve or so, and their parents; I suspect teens will find this too juvenile for their tastes unless being forced to listen to it because of a younger sibling, at which point they will secretly enjoy themselves.