The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie

One of my reading goals for the year was to read another mystery by Agatha Christie. Of course I saved this goal for October because, as I noted in the most recent episode of the Book Blab, autumn is the absolute best season in which to indulge in a good mystery.

I knew I wanted to read something by Agatha Christie because the two mysteries of hers I'd read previously (And Then There Were None and Murder on the Orient Express) were impressively executed while being extremely engaging. In other words, I was pretty sure going with another Agatha Christie was a safe bet I wouldn't come away feeling disappointed.

But still, which one to choose? Faced with an overwhelming number of possibilities, I did the only sensible thing and sought a recommendation from an expert in the field: my cousin, Erin, who has read every single mystery written by Agatha Christie. I asked for three of her favorites, and she gave me: The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, Sleeping Murder, and Endless Night, with two runners-up, A Murder is Announced and After the Funeral. Seriously, if you don't have an Agatha Christie guru in your life, I feel sorry for you. 

Out of that now-manageable list, I went with The Murder of Roger Ackroyd because Erin had lavished it with especially high praise and because it cast Hercule Poirot as the detective. 

The mystery is narrated by James Sheppard, a country doctor living in the village of King's Abbot. When Mrs. Ferrars is found dead in her home, he is called in to determine the cause--an apparent suicide. Later that same day, his friend, Roger Ackroyd, insists on speaking with him. 

In the last year, following the death of her husband, Mrs. Ferrars had become quite close to Mr. Ackroyd. In fact, everyone in King's Abbot was sure they'd waste no time getting married after her period of mourning. So of course Dr. Sheppard is not surprised at Mr. Ackroyd's emotional distress. However, it's more than just sadness at her passing. In the privacy of his study, Roger Ackroyd confesses what Mrs. Ferrars had earlier confessed to him: she had poisoned her first husband after enduring awful abuse as his hands for many years. Besides keeping the secret, which has haunted her for the last year, Mrs. Ferrars admitted that one other person knew about her misdeed and had blackmailed her into giving large amounts of money in order to not be exposed. Although Mr. Ackroyd demands to know the identity of this individual, Mrs. Ferrars holds her tongue, saying that she'll tell him in twenty-four hours. Now of course, she's dead, which seemed to be her plan all along. Mr. Ackroyd doesn't know what to do.

Just as this conversation is going on, the butler comes in with the evening post. And there, in her own handwriting, is a letter from Mrs. Ferrars. Mr. Ackroyd knows that it must contain the name of her blackmailer, and he tells Dr. Sheppard that he will fill him in on it after he has read it in private. So Dr. Sheppard returns home, only to receive an anonymous phone call a couple of hours later saying that Roger Ackroyd is dead. 

It's obvious that Mr. Ackroyd's murderer must be the same person as Mrs. Ferrars' blackmailer. It's just too much of a coincidence otherwise that he would be holding the implicating letter in his hands that very night, right? 

Or maybe not. Because, as it goes with mysteries, as soon as one person's secret is out, it seems to have a domino effect on everyone else's secrets, and, it turns out, everyone (the butler, housekeeper, maid, stepson, sister-in-law, niece, secretary, friend) has a secret, whether it's actually connected with the murder or not. 

It's up to Hercule Poirot, who has just "retired" next door to Dr. Sheppard, to connect the clues. I tried my best to keep up with him, making my own guesses along the way, but the ending still caught me by total surprise. (I will say, without giving anything away, that the murderer was the person I originally suspected but had given up as totally impossible early on. Still, even thinking it at one point made me feel like a winner (although it probably shouldn't have since Agatha Christie does her best to make you suspect every single person at one point or another).)

This novel reminded me why I love mysteries and also why I don't read them very often. I finished listening to it right before bed one night, which was probably the worst idea ever. Not only was my head spinning after the grand reveal (which made me insist that Mike read it as soon as possible so I'd have someone to discuss it with), but I was also just a bit terrified. There's something about becoming so invested in another person's death, albeit fictional, that just leaves you feeling a bit off. 

But I can't deny that I was super interested the entire time and felt this heightened sense of observation and suspicion that gave me something of a reader's high. It was pretty thrilling to watch it all unfold, and I think it would be equally thrilling to go back and reread the whole thing knowing now how it ends.

I'd love to hear your take on mysteries. Do you like them? And, if so, tell me some of your favorites!

My Cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier

Nothing gets me in an October mood faster than a good Gothic mystery. Only, I didn't read this book in October but in the height (and heat) of summer.

Even though it had been on my to-read list for years, it wasn't my choice to read this book when I did. Naturally, I would have waited until autumn, the appropriate season in which to read it. But a friend in my neighborhood read it and then offered to lend me her copy, and since it was something I actually wanted to read at some future point, I agreed.

But I've discovered that I actually really dislike borrowing books from people for three reasons: 1) it forces me to read the book right then (or makes me feel guilty if I don't), and I like reading books on my own timetable (unless it's for book club) 2) if I don't end up liking the book, then I stress about what I'll say when they ask me what I thought about it, and 3) I spend the whole time worrying that I'm going to bend or scuff up or damage their book in some way.

Basically, I can't handle the pressure that comes with borrowing a book. I know people lend books to be nice, but give me the library and its hold lists and due dates and sturdy copies any day.

It actually felt a little wrong to read such a deliciously creepy and suspenseful read while the air conditioner was blowing and the sun was shining. I would have like to hide under a blanket, but it was too warm for that.

Philip Ashley leads a solitary life with his cousin (and guardian), Ambrose Ashley. Both bachelors, they understand each other perfectly and couldn't be more content. Because of ill health, Ambrose leaves the estate for Italy during the winter months. There, he meets the irrepressible Rachel and marries her, much to Philip's dismay. He knows having a woman around will disrupt the peaceful symmetry of their lives and holds a grudge against Rachel before he even meets her. He anticipates their return to England with dread, but it never happens. Ambrose gets violently ill and dies suddenly, but not before sending a couple of cryptic letters home that leave Philip very suspicious of Rachel.

Within a few weeks, Rachel makes her way to the estate with Ambrose's belongings. Philip is determined to show as little hospitality as possible, but then Rachel turns out to be just so darn likeable. In fact, it only takes a couple of days before he can see exactly why Ambrose wanted to marry her. And yet, how can he reconcile this picture of Rachel with the one he'd already conjured up?

Daphne du Maurier weaves a masterful tale that kept me guessing the entire time. One minute I loved Rachel, and then the next, I hated her, and always always the lingering question of whether or not to trust her. But it turns out that reading almost 400 pages with that heightened suspicion is actually rather exhausting, and my enthusiasm ran out well before the end of the story.

Plus, I rather detested Philip. He was rude, incredibly awkward, and just plain witless. By the end, I didn't care what happened to him, just so long as I didn't have to read about him anymore. I loved the writing in this one just as much as Rebecca, but Philip as the main character couldn't hold a candle to Mrs. de Winter, and so ultimately the story fell a little flat for me.

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

A few months ago, I had the opportunity to be a guest on one of my favorite podcasts, What Should I Read Next? The show, hosted by Anne Bogel (aka, Modern Mrs. Darcy) works like this: the guest shares three books she loves, one book she hates, and what she's currently reading, and then Anne comes up with three recommendations that hopefully fit the reader's bookish tastes.

When I was on the podcast, one of the books I shared as a favorite was Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. It's been nearly four years since I read it (so time for a reread, I think), and I still can't think of it without remembering the wide range of emotions I felt while reading it. It's one of the most visceral reading experiences I've ever had, and I specifically chose to mention it on the podcast because I wanted help finding something that would give me that same sort of reading experience again.

The book Anne came up with was The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield. Before she revealed what it was, she said something like, "I have a great book to recommend, but I'm just sure you've already read it because it's so perfect for you." Well, I hadn't read it, but I was nonetheless very familiar with the title because many of my friends had read it, loved it, and then recommended it with a bunch of caveats. And it was those caveats that always held me back.

But after Anne recommended it, I decided to just read it and see for myself.

And now I get it. I see why everyone liked/loved it, and I also see why all the reviews came with reservations. I'll get to all that in a minute.

But first, the story itself. Margaret Lea is a quiet, solitary woman. She lives and works in her father's bookshop, which is also a quiet, solitary place, and that suits her just fine. As you might expect, she is quite fond of books and reads a lot. However, she sticks mainly with classics and biographies and has very little interest in popular fiction.

So of course she is very surprised when she receives a letter one day from Vida Winter, a famous authoress, who requests that Margaret write her biography. Ms. Winter is in her seventies and quite ill, and although everyone knows and loves her books, her actual life is cloaked in mystery. Many reporters have tried to get it out of her over the years, and she always obliges them with a fantastic and captivating story, but it's always just that . . . a story.

Margaret can't figure out why, after all these years, Vida Winter is requesting someone to write her biography, and why that someone should be her. But after reading (and rather embarrassingly, devouring) one of Vida Winter's books, she decides to accept the invitation. However, she goes in with her guard up. She is determined to sniff out the truth and not be pulled in by another one of Vida Winter's tales.

Before they begin, Margaret has one requirement: she asks for three facts from Vida Winter's life that she will be able to corroborate with outside sources. Ms. Winter gives those three facts and then sets down a rule of her own: "Beginnings, middles and endings, all in the correct order. No cheating. No looking ahead. No questions." In other words, she demands to tell her story in her own way.

A truce is reached, and the story begins. It is fascinating, captivating, mesmerizing. And, as it turns out, it is not just Vida Winter confronting the pain and secrets of her past, but Margaret, too.

I'll have to stop there because I'm trying to be very careful not to give away too much. So far, I've just laid the barest framework and haven't even hinted at the details or characters of the actual story, and I'm going to leave it that way. The essence of this story is its mystery. If I take that away, even in a small way, the life would just go out of it.

In the book, Margaret describes the excitement of discovery this way: "One element at a time, taking all the different angles separately, I reviewed everything I knew. Everything I had been told and everything I had discovered. Yes, I thought. And yes, again. That, and that, and that, too. My new knowledge blew life into the story. It began to breathe. And as it did so, it began to mend. The jagged edges smoothed themselves. The gaps filled themselves in. The missing parts were regenerated. Puzzles explained themselves, and mysteries were mysteries no longer."

I love that description because I've had very similar experiences with stories before (this being one of them). Having all those questions and unknowns and twists and turns suddenly come into sharp focus is one of the things I loved most about Rebecca, and it's what made me enjoy this book as well. I wouldn't spoil that for anyone for the world.

So even though I'm not going to talk about the plot any further, there are still a couple of things I want to address.

First, when readers recommend this book with a good dose of caution, they're right to do so. As you might expect from a Gothic suspense novel, there are some dark, I would even say disturbing, themes. They're essential to the story, but that doesn't make them any easier to read about, especially when they come back to you at 2am, as one of them did to me.

It's really, really tricky to review a book with difficult or disturbing content because it's easy to over-focus on the uncomfortable parts. On one hand, this is good because it means future readers will go into the book with their eyes open. On the other hand, it can give a false representation of the actual story and the overall feeling and just how big those moments really are.

For my part, I always appreciate it when I know about mature content ahead of time, but it's also hard because, even with the warning, I still don't really know what its effect on me will be. Of course, if there's any doubt or hesitation, just don't read it (there are plenty of other good books to choose from), but I will say that in the case of this book, the disturbing acts are not gratuitous or glorified in any way. They are repulsive, as they should be. (And now, after that glowing recommendation, I'm sure you're all rushing out to read it--feel free to talk to me about it if you want more specifics.)

The second thing I wanted to mention is just that even though I liked this book and was completely immersed in it from the beginning, it was no match for Rebecca. There are similarities for sure, and I can definitely see why Anne would recommend this to someone who loved Rebecca, but it wasn't the same.

For example, both books are extremely well written, but I love the writing style of Rebecca more. Both books have dark themes, but Rebecca's are less disturbing (although feel free to debate me on that one). Both books have a strong sense of place, but I would much rather go to Manderley than Angelfield. Both books have striking and vibrant characters, but . . . this is the big one for me. With Rebecca, I felt deeply invested in the narrator as well as Maxim de Winter. But with The Thirteenth Tale, something was missing for me, even with Ms. Winter and Margaret, and especially with one character in particular--a character who seems well-loved by so many, and yet, I couldn't find anything lovable about her. I'm actually not convinced that the reader was supposed to love her in the same way that the characters in the book did, but still, it was a real problem for me and actually is the reason, more than anything else that I mentioned above, that I just didn't love this book as much as Rebecca.

There's so much to discuss with this book though, and so I'm dying to talk to someone who has read it. If you have, let's chat because I have some questions and issues to work through.

I'm sure this review has given you a mixed impression of the book, and that's probably kind of accurate because I honestly came away with rather mixed feelings. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I'm glad I read it, and it was a perfect read for this time of year, but is it going on my favorites list? That remains to be seen.

Have you read this book? What did you think about it? Actually, let's just go have lunch and talk about it! And what would be your recommendation for someone who loved Rebecca and wants to read something similar?

Encyclopedia Brown, Boy Detective by Donald J. Sobol

I've told you before about how difficult it is to choose books for Aaron because he pretty much just goes with the flow and gives me no guidance whatsoever on what he likes and doesn't like. But now that I'm choosing books for Maxwell too, I can see why Aaron doesn't have an opinion: it's because Maxwell stole it.

That kid is bursting with too much opinion. While Aaron will read basically anything, Max will read almost nothing. Okay, I take that back. He has his favorite books that he reads over and over and over again: all of the National Geographic easy readers, almost any picture book about bugs, and his new subscription to Ranger Rick. So obviously, he's a nonfiction kind of kid. And I am totally okay with that.

But then, he's also my child who, after we finish reading a book aloud, will check it out on audio and listen to it on repeat at least twenty times before he returns it. So I know he likes stories too, but I just can't seem to get him to read them on his own. He always has a reason for not reading it: he doesn't like the cover, he doesn't want to read a book about imaginary friends, he already tried a chapter and it was boring, etc.

His birthday was earlier this month, and usually I love choosing which books to give my kids as presents, but this was a struggle. I didn't know if I dared give him a chapter book or if I should stick with something safe. But then I remembered Encyclopedia Brown, and I thought, if I was careful, I could maybe present it in a way that would hook him.

I gave him the first four books in the series but didn't push him to start one on his own. Instead, I just asked if we could read the first one as our next readaloud. He happily agreed . . . he loves being read to.

Encyclopedia Brown's father is the chief of police in Idaville. Anytime he comes up against a case that is too difficult to solve, he shares it with Encyclopedia, who usually picks up on a hidden clue and cracks it without much difficulty. He's so good at solving cases that he starts his own detective agency. The book is a series of standalone cases, but the cool thing is that each one ends just as Encyclopedia Brown solves the case but before he divulges how he did it. The reader is left with a question: "How did Encyclopedia know that?" or "What was Miss Stark's mistake?" The answers are at the back of the book.

My kids loved this format. It really encouraged them to pay attention to details, and by the end of the book, we were getting pretty good at spotting people's inconsistencies or slips of the tongue. Even though each case was totally self-contained, my kids begged for "just one more" every single time. The unknown was so tempting: maybe this time they would be as smart and observant as Encyclopedia.

I think the trickiest case for us was the one about Merko's grandson because of the way the story was worded. It took quite a bit of sorting and unpacking, and even then we didn't figure it out completely.  One of my favorite moments was in the case about the bank robbery. Chief Brown told Encyclopedia all about the robbery while the Brown family was eating dinner. Encyclopedia asked questions, and then Chief Brown asked, "Have you got an idea about this case?" When Encyclopedia Brown answered that no, he hadn't, Mrs. Brown looked hurt: "She had come to expect her son to solve a case before dessert."

But the real triumph for me happened after we finished the book. Maxwell took it to his room and started rereading it right then. And since that time, he has read the second one, too, without any encouragement from me. I think I maybe found something he likes!

Now if I can just hold back on my enthusiasm and pretend like I don't care . . .

Any other suggestions for series that will win over an obstinate and opinionated six-year-old? Stay tuned because, on Wednesday, I'll be sharing another book I tricked Maxwell into reading (and liking!). 

The Lake House by Kate Morton

I don't think I'd necessarily list Kate Morton as one of my favorite authors. I've had mixed feelings about her books: I didn't like The Forgotten Garden; I loved The Secret Keeper; and I quite enjoyed this one, The Lake House. I feel like, after three books, I have a pretty good feel for her style, and I like it, but not enough that I'm going to rush out and read everything else she's written or wait with bated breath for her next release.

I don't even know if I dare attempt a plot summary of this book. Like the other Kate Morton novels I've read, it's full of multiple characters spanning several generations and places. It's a lot to keep track of even while reading, let alone in a little summary, but here's my attempt.

When the story opens, it is 1933. Alice Edevane is sixteen years old. It is night and raining, and she is burying something. We don't know what it is, but from the way she's acting, you get the feeling that it's something that would implicate her to something horrible.

Fast forward seventy years. Detective Sadie Sparrow is visiting her grandfather in Cornwall. She's there on a forced leave of absence after she became too emotionally involved in a missing person case and leaked an unconfirmed fact to the press in order to keep the case going. Her partner thought it best if she left London until the backlash had settled down.

But Sadie is not one to sit around and relax. While she's out running one morning, she comes upon an abandoned house. Although overgrown and in need of repair, she can tell just by looking through the windows that whoever lived there left it just as it had always been. She's intrigued but even more so once she realizes that it belongs to the Edevane family and that they left it in 1933 after their eleven-month-old son vanished in the night and was never found.

Although the case was closed decades before, Sadie is drawn to the unanswered questions. She becomes obsessed with learning about the family and trying to figure out who took baby Theo all those years ago and what happened to him.

I think one of the reasons Kate Morton's novels are difficult for me is that they are somewhat impenetrable. I feel like I am completely in the dark for at least the first thirty pages, and I have to reread sections and flip back to earlier chapters in order to keep track of who's who. I love mysteries and questions, but I don't love feeling like I'm constantly missing something, and that's how I feel with Kate Morton's novels. Many authors employ different perspectives and time periods to tell the story, but usually it's somewhat predictable: first this character, then this one. Back and forth. But with Kate Morton, it's not like that at all. First we're in 1933, then 2003, then 1911, then 1931, and then back to 1933. We're getting the perspectives of old Alice and young Alice, old Eleanor and young Eleanor, and present day Sadie, and it's all just a little bit hard to settle into.

Along with that, there's no question that it's Kate Morton calling the shots. She leads you down one path, making you think you're figuring it out on your own, but then all of a sudden, you realize that there are still 300 pages left in the book, so that can't be it, and sure enough, it's a dead end. Then she does the same thing again, leaving little clues so that you reach a conclusion just a hair before the main character, but then it turns up false again.

I was definitely manipulated by her storytelling in many areas, but there was one belief I held firm to throughout the book, even when she was making a good case for something else, and I'm pretty proud of myself because I ended up being right. Also, Kate Morton is known for her mind-blowing twists. There were two in this book, and one of them caught me by surprise, but I figured out the other one before it happened, and that's never happened to me with her novels (I'm blaming it on my excellent sleuthing skills).

For me, one of the most intricate and captivating themes in this book was that of the role of mother. There's:

• Constance (Alice's grandmother, Eleanor's mother), who gave Eleanor everything she needed for her physical well-being but withheld her love in a truly despicable way.
• Eleanor (Alice's mother), who is carefree and fun until she can't be and becomes strict and responsible. And yet, she cherishes her baby boy, Theo.
• Nanny Rose (Theo's nanny), who loves Theo like a son and will do anything to protect him.
• Sadie, who is a mother by birth only. She gave up her daughter for adoption just hours after she was born but, fifteen years later, still remembers what it felt like to hold her.
• Ruth (Sadie's grandmother), who took her in at a difficult time and loved her fiercely.  
• Sadie's mother, whose name I've forgotten, which says something about the kind of mother she was.
• Maggie, who supposedly abandoned her daughter even though she always seemed like a conscientious mother (it's this case that Sadie is in trouble for).
• Nancy (Maggie's mother), who won't give up on her daughter's case--something about it just doesn't feel right.
• Gemma (Maggie's ex-husband's new wife), who steps in to care for Caitlyn when Maggie leaves her.
• Sophie, a French woman who we only get a small glimpse of.
• Deborah (Alice's older sister), who wanted children but was never able to have any.
• Clemmie (Alice's younger sister), who loves Theo with such a fierce and devoted love, she's pretty much a second mother to him.
• And someone else, whose name I better not mention or it will give away important information.

All of these mothers beg the question, What makes a mother a mother? Biology? Love? Sacrifice? Dedication? The threads of these women's stories weave together in an intricate but complicated way, and for me, this was definitely the most impressive and well-crafted aspect of the book.

Beyond my initial frustration with not being able to get into the book, it was a delight to read. It was one of those novels that's just fun to be in the middle of. I found myself thinking about it at random points during the day, and it was a pleasure to return to each time and uncover a little more of the mystery. There were things I didn't love about the ending--things that seemed a little too implausible and wrapped up a little too neatly--but for the most part, I thoroughly enjoyed it. The characters were multi-layered and heartbreaking. Eleanor was my favorite. I didn't love all of her choices, but she was inspiring nonetheless, and it was because of her that I shed some real tears at the end. And I loved, loved, loved the setting. I'm ready to hop on a plane to Cornwall right now.

If you've read and loved Kate Morton's other novels, you will love this one. If you've felt somewhat lukewarm like me, I think you'll actually enjoy this one. And if you've never read anything by Kate Morton, then this would be a great one to start with.

Content note: some infidelity but nothing too descriptive
 
P.S. Oh, and just a little unrelated announcement. Suzanne and I will be holding our next blab this coming Wednesday, January 27th, at 7:00pm MST. Come join us!

What I Read During My Break, Part 2: All the Light We Cannot See, Believing Christ, and Morality For Beautiful Girls

Sorry to overwhelm you with book reviews. There will be one more group after this, and then I'll be caught up.

1. All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

This is one of those books that, even if I wasn't interested in the subject matter, I might have been tempted to read anyway simply because of all the buzz it's been getting over the last eighteen months. But, as it happens, it's just the kind of book I like so I was happy to follow the crowd.

When the story begins, it is 1944 and Saint-Malo, France is being bombed. One character, a girl, Marie-Laure, is in her uncle's house and trying to find safety. She is blind. Another character, a boy, Werner, is buried underneath the rubble of a hotel. He is a German soldier.

The story then recedes back in time to several years before when Marie-Laure and Werner are mere children (they don't know each other).  Marie-Laure lives in Paris with her father who is the locksmith at the Museum of Natural History. When she goes blind at the age of six, he builds an elaborate replica of their neighborhood so that Marie-Laure will be able to memorize every detail of the city before she tries to navigate it herself.

Werner is an orphan and lives with his sister, Jutta, in a small orphanage under the kind care of Frau Elena. Werner has a brilliant mind, and when he finds an old radio, he is able to fix it and listen to programs from all over the continent. When the German army finds out about his talent, he earns a place in an esteemed training academy and is later assigned to help with research and development.

There's one other important character in the story . . . a rare and precious diamond that has its home in the Museum of Natural History. It has a rich history with many legends associated with it, most notably that it contains supernatural powers which will keep its owner safe but bring misfortune to all his friends and family. While the fighting rages, one man, Reinhold von Rumpel, is desperate to find the diamond with the hope that it will save his life.

The story moves between time and characters, with the past inching ever closer to the present until the two collide (which also happens to be the moment when Marie-Laure's and Werner's paths finally cross as well).

The whole story is beautifully and artfully told. At one point, Jutta asks her brother, "Is it right to do something just because everyone else is doing it?" It's a question that I think all of us have to consider at some point in our lives, and it was quite touching to see Werner work through his own answer to it. He's never a bad kid. In fact, if Germany hadn't gone to war, he would have happily spent the rest of his life tinkering and experimenting and inventing. But at first, he's much more interested in self-preservation than in taking a stand. If he can just get through the war without rocking the boat or drawing attention to himself, he will be happy. But the more he sees, the more he realizes he can't do that. He answers Jutta's question through his heroic actions.

I will say that the ending left me a bit disappointed--probably because I prefer happier endings. But overall, this was a well-told story I'm glad to have read.

2. Believing Christ: The Parable of the Bicycle and Other Good News by Stephen E. Robinson

In the last twenty years, I have heard the parable of the bicycle at least a dozen times. It is one of those stories that is used in lessons and talks quite frequently because it explains the concept of grace in such an accessible way.

But I'd never read the actual source of the parable (this book), which is a little surprising since I went to BYU and I know this was assigned reading in many religion classes (but none that I took).

The parable of the bicycle is simply this: When Stephen Robinson's daughter was young, she really wanted a bike. He told her that if she saved all of her money, she would be able to buy one. For weeks, she worked and did extra jobs and collected every penny she could. When she went to her dad to ask if she had enough for a bike, he looked at the pitiful amount that she had saved (something like $1.50) and realized that at that rate, she would be grown before she got her bicycle. He said, "I'll tell you what: you give me everything you have, and I'll make up the difference."

It is the same with Jesus Christ. On our own, we could never be good enough to return to Him. In fact, our efforts look pretty pitiful. But the Savior says, "You give me everything you have, and I'll make up the difference." That's grace.

But this book was much more than just the parable of the bicycle, and actually, I had heard it so much prior to reading this that it didn't have the profound impact on me it once did. But other pieces of insight did.

For example, his explanation of perfection made me think about it in a completely new way. Matthew 5:48 issues the challenge, "Be ye therefore perfect even as your Father in heaven is perfect," but as anyone who has lived on this earth for longer than two minutes knows, it's impossible to be perfect. However, as Stephen Robinson puts it, we're asked to perform "at the limits of our ability" because that is how we grow the most. He relates it to someone lifting weights at a gym. A trainer will keep pushing and pushing you until you collapse because then he knows you've hit the ceiling of your ability . . . and in a few days, you'll be able to go even further.

But this is probably the quote from the book I've thought about the most since finishing it (this is talking about the Savior suffering for the sins of all mankind): "In the Garden of Gethsemane, the spirit withdrew from Jesus because he had taken the guilt of the whole world upon himself and the spirit of God couldn't be present." I've always assumed that the Spirit withdrew from the Savior during that critical moment so that He would know what it felt like to be utterly and completely alone and consequently be able to succor His people as no one else can. While I think that's part of it, it was also a natural consequence. He quite literally took our sins upon Himself, and as all of us know, the Spirit withdraws from us when we sin, so it withdrew from the Savior also.

This book definitely gave me new eyes for the Savior and His sacrifice and greater love for Him.

3. Morality For Beautiful Girls by Alexander McCall Smith

One of my reading goals for the year was to read two more books in series that I'd already started. I already read the fourth book in the Penderwicks series earlier this year, but I knew that for the other half of this goal, I really wanted to return to Zebra Drive and Mma Ramotswe.

In this installment, the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency is running into some financial difficulties: although they've had a steady run of cases, most of them aren't paying enough to keep them in the black (plus, Mma Ramotswe keeps giving Mma Makutsi promotions and raises, which doesn't really help the agency's financial state).

Mma Ramotswe consults Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni, and they decide that she should move the agency to the other half of Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors and rent out her building. With the move comes another promotion for Mma Makutsi--to that of assistant manager of the garage. Although such a position was not Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni's idea, it seems like it was fortuitous. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni is not himself. He doesn't want to work and cares very little about whether his two apprentices work or not, and Mma Makutsi keeps both businesses afloat.

Meanwhile, Mma Ramotswe gets a case from an important man in the government who wants her to investigate the possible poisoning of his brother. While Mma Ramotswe's away, Mma Makutsi takes another case where she must determine if the beauty contestants are morally upright women or not.

There's a lot going on in this book, and I don't know if it was because of that, but I thought some of side stories weren't as fleshed out as they could have been (particularly about the little boy who's found in the desert and smells like a lion--I expected that one to be more important, and, when it wasn't, it almost seemed like it could have been left out entirely).

The hero of this book was definitely Mma Makutsi. In the course of the book, she single-handedly organizes the garage's finances, whips the two lazy apprentices into shape, and solves an important case for the detective agency. She was by far my favorite part of this book. (There are some hints of some stresses of her own, however, and I wonder if those will factor more prominently into a future book.)

The pacing of these stories is slow and gentle with ample amounts of time for philosophizing. Sometimes I found these little tangents quite deep and tinged with humor (a few of my favorite discussions: whether it is moral to stay friends with someone who treats her maid badly, the danger of making false assumptions and hasty judgements, and the conclusion that sometimes we don't need, or even want, to know the answer to everything). Sometimes though, I felt like they went on too long, and I wanted the action to pick up a little.

However, I am loyally attached to these characters, and I'm very curious to find out how Mr. J.L.B Matekoni is doing in the next book.

Have you read any of these books? I'd love to hear your own thoughts, insights, or impressions in the comments!

Greenglass House by Kate Milford

You might remember that I put this book on my October reading list.

And then I took it off.

And put it on my December reading list instead.

Within the first few pages, I discovered that the story took place during winter break, immediately before Christmas, and that the inn was covered in a blanket of snow. Definitely December fare.

As it turned out, the last 130 pages actually happen on Christmas Eve, and I just happened to read a big chunk of those 130 pages on Christmas Eve. I didn't purposely plan it that way, but my weird obsession with reading the right book at the right time was very satisfied.

When Mike asked me what this book was about, I said, "Oh, it's a mystery. Middle-grade. Takes place during the holidays." And then after such a gripping description, I wondered why he didn't seem all that interested in hearing more about it.

Hmmm, maybe it's because I didn't tell him that Greenglass House is an inn that usually boards smugglers (most of them smuggle really harmless things like house plants or ballpoint pens--the notorious Deacon and Morvengarde hold the market on just about everything, and so if anyone wants to buy anything at a decent price, it has to come from the smugglers).

Maybe it's because I didn't tell him that Milo and his family own the inn, but it used to be the home of Doc Holystone (one of the more famous smugglers). When the story begins, Milo is just finishing up the last of his homework so he can enjoy the entire stretch of winter break worry free. The holidays are a slow time at Greenglass House, so he and his parents are looking forward to some quiet family time.

But then (and maybe this would have helped pique Mike's interest), the bell rings, indicating that a guest is at the base of the mountain and waiting to ride the Whilforber Whirlwind (a single rail car that is one of the only ways to get to Greenglass House--unless you like to climb hundreds of stairs) up to Greenglass House. Milo is more than a little disgruntled about the imposition on his holiday, but things only get worse when the bell rings again . . . and again . . . and before he knows it, the inn is full of a strange mix of guests who all seem surprised and displeased to find more guests than just themselves there.

It soon becomes apparent that all of the guests have an unexplainable interest in the house, and so Milo and his friend, Meddy, invent a role-playing game to try to uncover the host of mysteries that exist in Greenglass House--things Milo would have never dreamed were a part of the home he had lived in his whole life.

If that wouldn't have been enough to spark Mike's curiosity, then I hope it at least sparked yours because really, this a middle-grade novel worth reading. It's been getting some Newbery attention, and I'm really thrilled about that. The writing is fantastic, and it's a complex story with a myriad of little pieces that all (rather amazingly) fit together in the end.

Towards the end, there's a pretty big reveal that I wasn't expecting at all. At first I didn't know how I felt about it, but it had been led up to really well (there were so many clues I should have seen but didn't), and it actually fit the mood and plot of the story really well. So in the end, I liked it, and now I won't say anything more about it because I would hate to spoil the discovery for anyone else.

Another thing I didn't know if I was going to like was the role-playing angle of the story. When Milo and Meddy start discussing it and inventing their characters, it seemed like it was about to go in a direction that was a little too dangerously close to Dungeons & Dragons (something I know just enough of to know I don't want to know anymore).

But besides all of the mystery, there's another side of the story. Milo is adopted from China, and he's at an age where he's incredibly curious about his heritage. Because of the type of adoption, it's not really possible for him to learn anything about his birth family, but he can't help thinking and wondering about them sometimes. This sometimes brings on feelings of guilt because he really loves his mom and dad, and so he worries he's somehow being disloyal to them if he thinks about the family he'll never know. Even though it doesn't start out that way, the role-playing actually helps Milo explore some of his feelings and figure out who he is. As part of the game, he becomes Negret, the blackjack; Meddy becomes Sirin, the scholiast. Through the role-playing, they have moments like this one:

"Milo knew, of course, that no antique bric-a-brac in Greenglass House was even remotely likely to be connected to his own ancestry, even if it did have Chinese writing on it. Negret, on the other hand--Negret knew no such thing. Negret, he thought with a little thrill, could perhaps know the exact opposite.

Through the game, Milo not only explores his feelings about being adopted, he begins to confront some of his fears and insecurities. Negret isn't shaken by unexpected circumstances. Negret is stealthy and observant. And pretty soon, Milo is all of those things too.

However, I also loved a point in the story when Milo realizes that, as Negret, "he could call upon the exploit that would allow him to tell a perfect lie, but Milo discovered he didn't want to try the Fabulist out on his parents." It was nice to see him recognize his potential but also realize that, morally, there are just some things not worth doing and a trust worth building and maintaining.

I've spent a lot of time in this review talking about Milo and his self-discovery, but the mystery is probably the bigger story (or at least takes up more time to tell), and it wouldn't be possible without a cast of truly fantastic characters who each have their own history and agenda. There's Mr. Vinge and Georgie and Dr. Gowervine and Mrs. Hereward and Clem and Owen. There are Milo's parents and Mrs. Caraway and Meddy. There's Fenster and Brandon and Doc Holystone. Each one made a contribution, without which the story would have been lacking a certain degree of suspense and intrigue.

And then of course the house--I don't know what it was about the descriptions but I felt like I was literally walking through Greenglass Inn. Even now, as I'm writing it, I can see the green glass knob that led into the Emporium. I can see the poinsettia at the end of the hallway and the stained glass windows on each landing. I can feel the cold wind on the fire escape and hear the creak of the stairs. It was all so vivid and memorable--to the point that if I was all of a sudden dropped down on the front door, I think I'd know my way around it pretty well.

This really was a perfect way to spend the holiday break. It's a book you can cozy up with and get lost in, and I'm excited to share it with my kids in a few years.

Content note: there's a very little bit of mild language that you might want to be aware of if you're going to let a young child read it.

Nine Coaches Waiting by Mary Stewart

If you want me to read a book, just tell me it's a cross between Jane Eyre and Rebecca. Suspense? Mystery? Romance? Gothic ambiance? Sign me up. Please.

When Linda Martin arrives at the Château Valmy, she is greeted with austere, but kind, hospitality. She is to be the new governess to Philippe de Valmy, a nine-year-old boy who recently lost his parents in a tragic accident. He is the heir to the Château Valmy, but his Uncle Léon and Aunt Heloise have long been the caretakers of the estate. Soon after her arrival, strange things begin happening--a shot in the woods, a crumbling balustrade--and Linda is determined to protect her charge at any cost, all while wondering where the handsome Raoul fits in this dark plot. 

I mentioned this book on my reading list for October. At the time, I hadn't read it yet, so I didn't know for sure if it would be a good book for fall (and incidentally, I decided to save Greenglass House, also on the list, because after I picked it up, there just seemed to be too much of winter and the holidays in it to suit my reading mood). But now that I've finished it, let me tell you that if you like your fall reading flavored with suspense and danger (oh yeah, and elegant estates as well), then this book is perfect for the season (even though it's actually set in the spring).
 
I'd never read anything by Mary Stewart before (although one of Mike's cousins had recommended her to me on several different occasions), and now I'm wishing I didn't already have a half dozen other books checked out from the library waiting to be read because I would love to go out right this minute and pick up The Crystal Cave or The Moonspinners. I found her writing really engaging (my one complaint was that she tended to bump up against the superlative quite a bit, which made every event, even the more mild ones, feel intense).

One of my favorite descriptions was of Monsieur Florimond, a famous designer who the family knows well: "He wore his conventional, superbly cut clothes with all the delicate care one might accord to an old beach towel. His pockets bulged comfortably in every direction, and there was a cigar ash on his lapel. He was clutching what looked like a folio-society reprint in one large hand, and gestured with it lavishly to underscore some story he was telling Madame de Valmy." Florimond was probably my favorite of the secondary characters.

I thought about writing this whole review without alluding to important details to the plot, but I couldn't do it. So if you plan on reading this book, read no further! I repeat, stop. reading. now. Go to the library and get the book instead.
 
I've thought a lot about the genre of suspense since finishing this book and what makes a novel suspenseful. Obviously the situation and setting both contribute. Midway through the book, you know without a doubt there's a plot against Philippe for his life; just the idea that someone wants a little nine-year-old boy dead instantly ramps up the terror.

But it's more than that. In this particular book, once everything is finally revealed and settled out, the reader discovers (along with Linda) that for most of the day, Philippe wasn't in nearly as much immediate danger as Linda suspected. After I finished, I felt a teensy bit let down, and it took me a minute to realize it was because I felt a little annoyed about my pounding heart over nothing. (Okay, not nothing. The danger and evil were real, just not as lurking-around-every-corner as I was led to believe.)

But then (sorry to drag you along through my whole thought process), I thought, But Linda didn't know. She had to go with her gut instinct, and honestly, even though the level of danger all but disappeared by mid-morning, if she hadn't stolen away with Philippe in the middle of the night, real tragedy might have occurred. Because the story's being told from Linda's point of view, her fear becomes the reader's fear. I only had as much knowledge as she did, and I was scared right along with her. 

Speaking of fear, I loved this line: "I suppose a rabbit stays still while death stalks it just because it is hoping against hope that this is not death."

So I came to the conclusion that the actual risk means little in a suspense novel. It's all about how the characters perceive their own safety and security because if they feel threatened, then the reader will too (although, in this case, I definitely think there were a few blatant implications made to lead the reader astray).

Written in the 1950's, Nine Coaches Waiting also provides an interesting commentary on the times. Linda Martin herself is a strong female lead who risks her own security to provide safety for a little boy. She stands up for herself and doesn't hesitate to break the rules. At one point, after promising Berthe that she won't go to the police, she says, "I didn't let the promise Berthe had blackmailed from me weigh with me for a second; being a woman, I put common sense in front of an illusory 'honor,' and I'd have broken a thousand promises without a qualm if by doing so I could save Philippe."

But the other female characters are not so bold. Madame de Valmy is on the fringes of a complete mental collapse by the end of the book because she has been manipulated and used by her husband. And it appears that even Linda does not have the highest regard for the other members of her sex because when William Blake asks her who Berthe is, she says:"Oh, nobody. Just one of the nobodies who get hurt the most when wicked men start to carve life up to suit themselves."

Before I wrap this up, I just have to write a few words about Raoul de Valmy. I honestly wanted to like William Blake more than him. If it were me, I know I'd rather have kindhearted William than passionate Raoul. But try as I might, I couldn't actually make myself cheer for William. Raoul (tall, dark, and handsome) was so stereotypical, I begged myself to dislike him, but I couldn't. Against my better judgement, I was very happy with the way things ended up. Not practical, but very romantic.

While Nine Coaches Waiting didn't trump Jane Eyre or Rebecca, it was a delicious mix of suspense and romance, and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it.

Tears of the Giraffe by Alexander McCall Smith

I have read three books by Alexander McCall Smith: The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency, 44 Scotland Street, and now, Tears of the Giraffe. This one was by far my favorite, and I think I might finally be coming to see why so many of Mike's siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles love Alexander McCall Smith so much.

It wasn't that I didn't like The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency or 44 Scotland Street; there were certainly exceptional moments in the plot where I thought, What a brilliant turn of events or What a clever thing to say. But . . . there were also moments of boredom, and, don't hate me for saying this, I didn't feel particularly attached to any of the characters.

But something changed with this one. I don't know if it was because the characters and the setting were already familiar (this is the second book in The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series), so I could just jump right into the story or if I actually enjoyed the plot and pacing more. Whatever it was, in this case the third time really did prove to be the charm.

When the story begins, Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni and Mma Ramotswe are blissfully planning their new future together when things immediately begin to get complicated: Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni's maid is far from happy when she learns that her services will no longer be needed, and she begins to seek her revenge on Mma Ramotswe; then Mma Potokwane takes advantage of Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni's kind heart and convinces him to adopt two orphans, which he does without even talking to Mma Ramotswe about it first. Meanwhile at the detective agency, Mma Ramotswe gives Mma Makutsi a promotion, and Mma Makutsi solves her very first case. And interwoven between all these daily happenings is an unresolved mystery about an American young man who went missing ten years before.

It's been four years since I read the first book in the series, and I honestly think it took me this long to return simply because I wasn't completely invested in the characters. However, I liked it well enough (and had heard the positive reviews of so many people) to keep it hovering at the back of the brain, nudging me to try the next one.

And what I found on this second run was this: Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni is a silent hero--quiet and noble and just so, so, so kindhearted (and can anyone tell me why he is know as Mr. instead of Rra?); Mma Ramotswe is a defender of truth--she has a fiery personality and says it like she sees it; Mma Makutsi is a loyal friend and employee--she takes pride in her work and is confident in her abilities; Mma Potokwane is bold in her faith--she believes in humanity and God, especially when they go hand in hand. In other words, I've made that unbreakable connection with the characters, and I have a vested interest in their futures.

This book explores the moral dilemma of lying. Towards the end of the story, Mma Ramotswe interviews a man and threatens to reveal some personal information about him if he doesn't give her the answer she desires. After the incident, she makes this reflection: "As for her own conscience, she had lied to him and resorted to blackmail. She had done so in order to obtain information, which she otherwise wouldn't have got. But again, that troubling issue of means and ends raised its head. Was it right to do the wrong thing to get the right result?" And she makes this conclusion, "Yes, it must be. . . It was regrettable, but necessary, in a world that was far from perfect."

Mike listened to this book as well, and we enjoyed discussing it. He remembers the names of the characters much better than I do and and loves the way the pronunciations just roll off his tongue. The audio is narrated by Lisette Lecat. Mike thinks she is fabulous. I wasn't willing to give her my praise as quickly, but in the end, I really liked her as well.

As a side note, I told Mike that, while I'm not longing to live in Africa, I wish we lived in a culture where we were expected to hire a maid. When Mike's parents lived in Chile, there was a similar expectation, and I just think it's a great way to support the economy (and, I'll be honest, I would love to have a day every week where I was guaranteed to have a clean house).

For those of you who have read something by Alexander McCall Smith, how do you feel about his books/writing? Did it take you several tries before you were a devoted fan, or was it love at first sight?

A Study in Scarlet by Arthur Conan Doyle

When I mentioned last year that as part of my reading goals, I planned to read my first-ever Sherlock Holmes mystery, I received several suggestions to not begin with A Study in Scarlet.

Um, you can see how well I followed that good advice . . .

The story begins with Dr. John H. Watson, who recently returned to London after being injured in Afghanistan. He is looking for a place to live--somewhere quiet where he can rest and fully recover. Upon hearing this, his friend suggests he look up Sherlock Holmes, a friend of his who is looking for someone to share his flat with.

Watson and Holmes make an agreeable pair, but Watson is overcome with curiosity about Holmes' unusual daily occupations. Eventually, Holmes divulges that he is a detective and not long after that, he receives a request for his services in the death of a man who was apparently poisoned in an old manor.

The Scotland Yard authorities and Holmes use completely different methods of investigation and deduction. Holmes' attention to and interpretation of detail are truly remarkable, and long before the officials, Holmes has the mystery neatly wrapped up and solved.

Now that I've read A Study in Scarlet and have some perspective, I think I can see why some friends recommended reading one of his other mysteries first (even though, as yet, I can't compare this one with any of the others).

I don't think this recommendation had anything to do with the structure of the mystery itself. It's plotted out nicely, and Holmes is an intriguing character from the very beginning. Personally, I was captivated by the little minute details that made a big impact in the end. In order for someone to write about such small occurrences and observations, even when he's making them all up himself, it means his attention to tiny details in his own life must be astounding.

So no, I don't think people tried to postpone my reading of this book because the mystery wasn't well-executed. My guess is that the strange section about the Mormons in the middle of the book is not an accurate reflection of Conan Doyle's later mysteries, and so they thought it might be better to begin with something that demonstrated his true style.

And if that's the case, then I would have to agree with those well-meaning friends. The middle section is so strange. Even if I wasn't Mormon and couldn't identify all the inaccuracies, I would still think it was strange. For one thing, the story suddenly transports itself to the middle of nowhere (i.e., Utah, that place I call home) and introduces a host of new characters who belong to a disturbing cult (not Mormonism). Even though it revealed the entire story (and motive) behind the murder, it was still jolting. It felt like I wasn't even reading the same book. I had to go back and listen to parts of it again because I was so disoriented.

I was not at all offended by Conan Doyle's depiction of Mormons. At the time he wrote this book, there probably was not a lot of information about such a small religion, especially in England. I don't know who or what his source of information was, but I'm know there were a lot of misconceptions about the religion, even in the U.S. What little he knew probably intrigued him and sounded like the perfect setup for his mystery. While I hope others do not base their opinions of Mormons solely on this book, for the most part I just found it rather amusing.

All that being said, I don't regret beginning with this book. I have no doubt I will like other Sherlock Holmes mysteries better, but I thought being introduced to Watson and Holmes and seeing them meet each other for the first time was indispensable. Those initial introductions were probably my favorite parts of the book, and I'm so glad I will have that background information as I read some of the other mysteries that follow.

But now I'm curious: if you've read several Sherlock Holmes mysteries, did you begin with this one? Which mystery do you like best? Do you prefer Conan Doyle's short stories or his novellas?

The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins

When I made the goal back in January to read "two 19th-century classics," I knew one of those would be The Woman in White. I also knew that I wouldn't read it until October. I didn't know much about it except that one of the characters was a mysterious woman who dressed all in white and appeared in unusual places and at unusual times, but that was enough to convince me of its appropriate creepiness.

It actually took me the entire month (and then some) to read and finish it. It is a longer book (almost 700 pages), but I listened to it, and usually I get through audio books fairly quickly because I can listen to them while doing other things, and earlier this year I started listening to them at double speed (good thing, too, for the readers of this book were painfully slow, even going twice as fast). I guess I wasn't spending enough time washing the dishes.

The book begins from Walter Hartright's perspective. Mr. Hartright is a drawing master and recently obtained a notable position teaching two young ladies at Limmeridge House in Cumberland. The night before he travels there to take up his position, he is returning home late at night and comes upon a woman dressed entirely in white and distressed beyond words. He helps her as best he can but finds the whole situation very odd and slightly disturbing. The next day, he arrives at Limmeridge House. His employer, Mr. Fairlie, is an insufferable invalid, but his niece, Laura Fairlie, and Laura's half-sister, Marian Halcombe, are delightful.

They enjoy a few weeks of uninterrupted companionship before trouble strikes, beginning with the uncomfortable fact that Mr. Hartright is in love with Laura Fairlie (and she is in love with him, too), but she is betrothed to one Sir Percival Glyde (hiss and boo). Marian advises Mr. Hartright to leave immediately so as to not make the eventual parting any more difficult on himself or Laura. But with the way things transpire, it would have been far better for him to stay close.

Sir Percival Glyde and his sinister friend, Count Fosco (can you think of better villain names than those?), are in the depths of financial troubles. Laura Fairlie's inheritance provides the answer for them, if they can only figure out a way to get their hands on it. And in the midst of all of that, there is the mysterious woman in white who holds a precious secret . . . the unveiling of which could be the means to Laura's freedom and Sir Percival's downfall.

I felt a mounting, growing dread through the first two-thirds of the story. The pieces of the plot were laid out very carefully, one by one, and each was examined thoroughly before moving on. In this way, the story sometimes felt tedious and slow. But at the same time, it was this slow pace that made that mounting dread feel absolutely terrifying. There was too much time for me to think about how things would play out and how awful the consequences might be. The suspense unfolded itself slowly, and I would come back to reality with a sudden jolt and realize my throat was completely dry and my heart felt like it was being squeezed.

That said, the final third of the book was a bit anti-climatic for me. There were still secrets to be uncovered and villains to be dealt with, but the fear and trepidation I had been feeling was either realized or resolved during the middle third. Don't misunderstand: a lot happens in the last third (Anne Catherick's secret is finally revealed, Sir Percival and Count Fosco finally meet their match, etc.). I just wasn't on pins and needles about it.

This could have been due, in part, to the fact that the final third was narrated almost entirely by Walter Hartright (with just a couple of short explanations/confessions provided by Mrs. Catherick and Count Fosco). During the first two-thirds, the narrators changed a little more frequently, which I think helped keep up the pace.

Also, and here I am being totally biased, my favorite narrator was Marian Halcombe, and I was disappointed that after her first installment, the story never returned to her. Her account was both detailed and emotional, and I found myself missing her cold facts and heated opinions. If you're looking for a classic with a strong female character who keeps her head and is willing to go against propriety to get the job done, this is your book. Marian is absolutely fantastic. At one point, she hides on a balcony at midnight to eavesdrop on Count Fosco and Sir Percival. She squeezes herself between two plants and waits in the cold and rain for the information she wants. Need I say anymore to convince you that she is unconventional, brave, smart, and just simply amazing?

I actually wasn't expecting the changing perspectives at all. Granted, I have not read nearly as many classics as I should have/want to, but I guess I have always thought of this as a more modern literary technique. Obviously not. But now I am curious if Collins was one of the first authors to employ this type of narrative or if I've just been in the dark about some other classic works that tell the story from multiple viewpoints.

Speaking of the characters, I want to talk about a few of them in a little more detail:

Count Fosco was extremely complex, and I have to say that even though I despised him, Collins did a phenomenal job with showing just how persuasive and manipulative he could be. Towards the end of the book, Walter Hartright and Marian Halcombe are discussing a kind (and fortuitous) act by the Count. Marian is wondering if the Count could have really done something out of the goodness of his heart and without any evil ulterior motives, and Mr. Hartright says, "I believe it, Marian. The best men are not consistent in good. Why should the worst men be consistent in evil?" I thought this was truly insightful because even though there was no way for the Count to redeem himself, I think it is true that everyone has some good in them, and every once in awhile, even the worst of men and women have a reason for that goodness to peek through.

Then there was Laura Fairlie, who, even though Walter and Marian adored her, I found to be rather spineless, extremely sensitive, and uninteresting. There were a few moments when I really thought she was going to come through and do something grand, but she always fell back to her childlike dependence. (Although, in her defense, at the beginning of the book, she did exhibit some really noble characteristics . . . and she did have some rather tragic events happen to her, which contributed to her neediness).

But Walter Hartright loved her, and even though I couldn't ever fathom why, I liked Walter a great deal. I thought it was interesting that even though he was a rather hopeless romantic (the occupation of artist suited this side of his personality very well), he was also very stable, hard-working, practical and determined. And his love for Laura was extremely devoted.

In fact, when he talked about his love for Laura at the beginning of the book (just before he departed Limmeridge House), I wanted to cry for the sheer injustice of it all:

"The cold fingers that trembled around mine, the pale cheeks with the bright red spot burning in the midst of them, the faint smile that struggled to live on her lips and died away from them while I looked at it told me at what sacrifice of herself her outward composure was maintained. My heart could take her no closer to me, or I should have loved her then as I had never loved her yet."

And this:

"I held [her hand] fast. My head drooped over it, my tears fell on it, my lips pressed it. Not in love, oh not in love, at that last moment, but in the agony and the self abandonment of despair."

Even if I would have preferred him to have a more vibrant counterpart, the love story was still bitter and poignant and sweet.

This has definitely been an autumn of mysteries for me (and I'm still hoping to get to one more), but I'm especially glad to have read this one. Wilkie Collins is considered to be one of the creators of the mystery genre (or so I gather from the little bit of reading I've done on him), and he set the stage for many of the great mystery novelists who would follow him. The plot was masterfully executed, and I'm so glad to have read it.

Pumpkin Roll by Josi S. Kilpack

I debated writing a review of this book since I reviewed Blackberry Crumble earlier this year, and before that, I read and wrote short reviews of the four preceding books in the series. Since they're all just light mysteries with a lot of the same plot twists and I also always seem to hate the endings, I wondered if I would really have anything new to say about this one.

But then, the plot actually was different, and I actually didn't hate the ending, so I thought, Might as well.

When the story begins, Sadie and her boyfriend (Detective Pete Cunningham) are in Boston babysitting Pete's three grandsons for a week. (Sadie and Pete are both in their 50's, widowed, with grown children.) On their very first night, they look out the window and notice the neighbor across the street acting very strangely: digging in the dark, making odd hand gestures in the air, etc. When this woman thrusts her fist into the air and a light bulb in the room Sadie's in simultaneously explodes, Sadie is officially creeped out. But of course, being creeped out doesn't mean she'll ignore the disturbing happenings in the neighborhood. In fact, they spur her on to putting her nose where it doesn't belong, baking up a storm, and ultimately answering some pretty difficult questions.

I've read a lot of reviews from people who say this series gets better with each book. If you've read my reviews, you know I don't exactly agree with that. While I think the quality of writing sees some, but definitely not drastic, improvement over the course of the series, I've been disappointed with the final resolution/reveal at the end of almost all the books. In fact, I would have to say that up until this one, I probably enjoyed the first books in the series (Lemon Tart) the very most because even though the plot wasn't as creative as some of the others, the ending didn't leave me totally frustrated and dissatisfied.

So I was pleasantly surprised with Pumpkin Roll. It maintained all of the things I've liked about the other books (which is why I keep reading them): Sadie's crazy antics, an interesting plot, some funny dialogue, etc. But then, it also had an ending that I felt was completely plausible. I didn't guess who the perpetrator was, but when everything came out, I looked back and remembered the little hints that had pointed in that direction. The story had a great set-up, execution, and resolution. The ending was still a surprise (for me at least), but it wasn't an unbelievable shocker.

Also, this story actually did not involve a murder, which I found totally different and refreshing. Instead, there were dangerous psychopaths, seemingly supernatural occurrences, and a (maybe) witch. Added to the stunning backdrop of Boston in the fall (even if many of the descriptions were, in my opinion, rather superficial), all of these details combined to make this a really great read for Halloween. (At the risk of revealing my nerdier side, I'll tell you that for months I've been trying to time it just right so I'd be in the mood for a Sadie Hoffmiller book and be ready for this particular book in the series in October. It worked out almost exactly the way I wanted it to: I started reading this book on the day before Halloween.)

I also really liked the little bit of suspicion and distrust that surrounded Pete in this installment. He's usually such a stable, no-nonsense kind of character (a great counterpart to Sadie), so learning about some of the secrets from his past was a nice little twist (even though I'm pretty sure Josi Kilpack herself didn't realize Pete Cunningham had such intriguing secrets until this novel).

I am curious how long this series will be able to sustain itself (this is #6, and #10 came out a couple months ago). I only wonder this because with each book, Sadie's mental health (as well as her good standing in her small community) slip a little more (who can blame her when she keeps stumbling into dangerous, life-threatening situations?). This story especially involved more of a personal attack against Sadie herself, and I can tell from looking at the next book that she will suffer some psychological repercussions because of it. I'm interested to see if Kilpack can eventually restore some of Sadie's sanity because if it keeps trending the direction it's looking, Sadie will be a total nutcase in about one more book.


After I finished this book, I decided it was time for something a little more substantial, so I plunged back into A Mind at a Time. But I only read one more chapter of it before I decided I was ready for another break. Light, fun reads definitely have their place.

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie

I read Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express more than ten years ago when I was still in high school. It was the first murder mystery I had read, and it was a completely new reading experience for me. Even though it was fiction, I had to stay alert to every detail the entire time in order to piece together the evidence and solve the mystery before Hercule Poirot did (an impossible feat, I soon realized).

And Then There Were None was no less gripping but definitely more terrifying. There's something about beginning a novel with ten characters and knowing that by the end, all ten of them will be dead that just fills you with an intense feeling of dread. (And lest you think, like Mike did, that I'm spoiling the ending by mentioning the fate of the characters, I'll just refer you back to the title: And Then There Were None. Pretty obvious from the get go.)

The story begins by introducing the cast of characters: Mr. Justice Wargrave, Vera Claythorne, Philip Lombard, Miss Emily Brent, General Macarthur, Dr. Armstrong, Tony Marston, Mr. Blore, and Mr. and Mrs. Rogers. They are all on their way to Soldier Island, a modern estate wrapped in mystery.

(I almost listened to this book, and in the end, I'm so, so glad I didn't. It took me awhile to become firmly acquainted with everyone, and I spent the first thirty pages or so flipping frequently back to the beginning to remind myself of one thing or another.)

Their host (a Mr. U.N. Owen) is strangely absent at their arrival. Soon after dinner on their first night, a detached voice comes blaring into the drawing room. It accuses each of them of murder. By the end of the night, one of them is dead. Suspicion and fear quickly mount as they realize they are trapped on the island, and it appears that someone (maybe one of their own?) is determined not to let them leave it alive.

This was the kind of book where, when I was in the middle of it, I couldn't put it down because I was so desperate to find out who did it and why. But then, after I finished it, I looked back at the scope of the story and thought, Wow. If that had been a news story, I would be officially freaked out right now. When you look at the bare bones of the story, it is horrifying, to be sure. That it's fiction certainly makes it a little less horrific, but still, it isn't the kind of story I could read a lot of without needing a break.

That said, even though it deals with the murder of ten individuals, it is still rather mild: most of the killing happens off stage, and none of it is described in any detail whatsoever. It is a novel that is more suspenseful than gruesome. That's why I said that in retrospect, it's horrible, but in the moment, it was absolutely gripping.

Agatha Christie is frequently referred to as The Queen of Mystery. Some might think this has to do with the sheer volume of mystery novels she wrote during her lifetime (and I'm sure, to some extent, it does). But I also believe she earned that title because she knew how to craft a truly excellent mystery.

About this particular novel she said, "I wrote the book after a tremendous amount of planning." This is obvious from the beginning. The story is layered with intent and guilt and motive. There is not a single detail mentioned that is not important. Although there are a few perspectives she surreptitiously leaves out and perhaps a few misleading comments, the evidence is there. And that is why I loved it so much: it was a mystery that I should have been able to figure out. And yet, for the life of me, I couldn't. My thoughts ran wild: I suspected everyone and no one. I thought about it when I wasn't reading, but puzzling it out never resulted in any conclusions, which made me desperate to get back to it so more of the story could unfold.

At the end, the two inspectors are discussing the case, and in looking over the evidence, they are just as baffled as I felt. The final sentence from them is, "But in that case, who killed them?" For a moment, I thought that was the end of the book. I could see there were more pages, but I honestly thought they were just an author bio or some essay. I actually shut the book, so disgusted and disappointed. C'mon, Agatha! You mean you didn't know who did it either? What a cop out. 

But then I decided just to make sure. I opened the book back up, and much to my relief, it was the rest of the story, with all of the answers neatly laid out. I only feel the need to discuss an ending in detail when I am frustrated or angry about it. In this case, I am happy to keep my lips sealed because the ending was just right. (I thought of using the words "satisfying" or "perfect," but somehow those just seemed wrong in connection with murder.) Everything made sense to me; there were no surprises that weren't accounted for (which drives me absolutely batty with some mysteries). And really, once I knew everything, I was convinced it would have been impossible to imagine and construct and write such a story without an insane amount of planning.

Besides trying to figure out who the murderer was, it was also engrossing to determine who might be the next character to meet his (or her) tragic end. This was an element that is not a part of most murder mysteries, and it was just one more way the story kept up its captivating pace.

The mystery also had a creative framework, which I really liked. The entire plot is based on the nursery rhyme "Ten Little Soldiers," where one by one, the little soldier boys are eliminated. Personally, I think it's pretty gruesome for a nursery rhyme, but judging from Grimm's fairy tales, things have not always been so carefully packaged for children as they are now. Even though I don't approve of it as a nursery rhyme, I thought it provided an intriguing structure for the story.

If the ending hadn't wrapped things up so well, I know I wouldn't be praising this book nearly so much. But because she delivered the whole package, I have no reservations saying this is one of the best mysteries I've ever read. It was one I not only loved while I was reading it, but now, after the fact, I just keep thinking, That was incredible.

It was a perfect Halloween read. Even though the holiday is almost over and you're all probably in candy-induced comas by now, you might want to put it on your list for next year. Hope you all had a great Halloween!

KidPages: The Deductive Detective by Brian Rock

You may have noticed that I've been reading a lot of books about education lately. (Some have even approached me, wondering if I'm getting ready to jump on the homeschooling bandwagon. In case you've been wondering, too: Not yet, but it never hurts to be prepared.) Anyway, everything I've been reading has stressed the importance of letting the child be in control of his own education; let him decide what he wants to learn and when he wants to learn it and how much of it he wants to learn.

This type of parenting and teaching takes a great amount of energy and creativity. I don't think I'm quite cut out for it. But luckily, my kids love books, and as long as they continue to love them, there will always be a way for them to learn what they want to know. (Why, just the other day I checked out a fabulous book all about worms because Aaron is currently spending hours a day digging them up.)

Besides a vast number of nonfiction titles to satisfy my children's ever-growing curiosity, there are also many, many fictional stories out there that include some kind of educational spin. The Deductive Detective is one such kind of book. Published by Sylvan Dell (an educational company), I was expecting it to include some science or math concepts, and I was not disappointed.

The book begins with an urgent phone call to Duck: one of the cakes is missing from the cake contest! Duck rushes over to find Fox crying over the disappearance of her beautiful cake. Duck begins to look over the suspects: there are 12 other cake decorators present, so the thief must be one of them. Slowly, Duck begins eliminating suspects: Mouse is too small to make off with such a big cake, Rooster was busy waking everyone up when the cake was stolen, etc. Eventually, he's down to one last suspect who turns out to, indeed, be the (hungry) cake thief!

The educational spin I was talking about came in the form of deductive reasoning and subtraction. At times, it felt a little contrived, like you could tell you were supposed to learn to use logic and subtraction, but honestly, most fictional/educational hybrids I've read felt like they were written for one angle or another.

My boys love this kind of book where they get to look for clues, make guesses, and figure things out. Most of the premises and subsequent conclusions made sense to my 3- and 4-year-olds: they could understand that, of course, the thief couldn't have been Swan because Duck had found an incriminating strand of hair, and Swans don't have hair. The only one that was too much of a stretch for me was Horse, who is freed from suspicion after they see that the lights are off in the kitchen. They conclude that it couldn't have been Horse because he's "not a dark horse." This didn't make any sense to the boys, and frankly, not much to me either.

The subtraction part was fun, especially for my 4-year-old, who has recently been doing a lot of addition and subtraction in his head. The story begins with 12 suspects, and each time one is eliminated, the results are given: 12 - 1 = 11. I think my only problem with this was just that we started with 12, which made the story feel really long. However, the book is geared for ages 3-8, so even though 12 was a little bit high of a countdown for my 3-year-old, it probably helps make it more interesting for the older crowd.

There are quite a few puns and slapstick-type jokes scattered throughout the story.  For example, Detective Duck realizes that the thief couldn't be Tiger because they found some hand prints on the windowsill, and Tigers have paws, not hands. Tiger says, "And I have claws on my paws...That's why I always bake from scratch." Of course, I caught the joke, but it was more eye-rolling than funny to me, and the humor went right over my kids' heads. I explained some of the jokes to them, but mostly I found them distracting and silly.

The illustrations were satisfactory. I would have liked a few more details in places (like a hand print on the windowsill when that's being discussed), but overall they were engaging and fun and went well with the story.

While this maybe was not our favorite picture book of all time, it did what it set out to do. My expectations were well-placed, and I wasn't disappointed or surprised. It taught new skills in an engaging way, and even if it sometimes felt like it was written for the sole purpose of teaching deductive reasoning, it did teach it, and it was fun in the process.

Along with this review, I had the opportunity to ask the author, Brian Rock, a few questions. I hope you enjoy getting to know him!

Q: Where did you get the idea for The Deductive Detective?

A: The Deductive Detective was inspired by my daughter's BFF snuggle buddy, Quacky. I wanted to write a story for them both, but wanted to try to avoid the usual duck themes that had already been done in stories like Make Way For Ducklings and Little Quack. So I started doing some word associations with duck, which led to deductive, which of course led to a detective.

Q: The story includes a lot of puns and other funny lines. Do you enjoy telling jokes in real life?

A: I probably enjoy telling them more than my friends and family enjoy hearing them, but yes. In fact, I used to do a little stand up comedy when I lived in Roanoke, VA (and boy are my legs tired!).

Q:  What made you decide to become a writer? Have you always enjoyed writing? Tell us about something you wrote as a kid.

A: I've wanted to be a writer from as early as I can remember. I think the first time I realized that I could write or say something that would make someone else laugh, I was hooked.When we used to go on family trips, I would take a notepad and write my own comics and jokes and riddles. The earliest I can remember was about third or fourth grade when I wrote a series of comics about a dog, a cat, and a mouse that went on a trip to the moon. I haven't checked in a while, they may be there still!

Q: Did you like reading when you were a child? What was your favorite book?

A: I loved reading. My family moved around a lot as I was growing up so I was always "the new kid." Books and music became some of my closest friends.Some of my favorite books when I was younger were Ferdinand the Bull, Winnie the Pooh, Harold and the Purple Crayon and The Phantom Tollbooth.

Q: What is your favorite picture book (besides your own, of course!)?

A: When I was younger my favorite picture book was Ferdinand the Bull, because I think I related with that character that doesn't quite fit in with others' expectations. Of more recent picture books, I'm a huge fan of the whole Pigeon series by Mo Willems. I'm amazed at how much emotion he can pack into so few words.

Q: Besides writing, what else do you like to do?

A: I also write Country songs with my friends in the group Family Reunion (http://www.familyreunioncountry.com/) Our debut album, Family Album won the 2012 ICMA award for album of the year. I also enjoy playing football in a rec league with my friends. I enjoy cooking with my wife, and of course reading with my daughter.

Q: Do you have any tips for reluctant readers?

A: Explore! If you keep looking, I guarantee you'll find something interesting to read about.

But mainly, my advice is for parents of reluctant readers - let them choose what they want to read. The more interested they are in a story, the more likely they are to read it. Try to avoid that "you need to read this" or the "you ought to read that" mindset. Let kids discover themselves in the books they choose. I know a good one about a duck detective I can recommend!

I received a copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. All opinions and thoughts are my own.