Book Review: Life After Life by Kate Atkinson

Life After Life 
By Kate Atkinson

Published by Reagan Arthur Books and distributed by Hachette, 2013

Purchased and read on Amazon Kindle

Links: Amazon, B&N, Powell's

Rating: Four Stars (out of five)

The first Kate Atkinson novel I ever read was Human Croquet (1997).  I checked it out from the library at my undergrad with no idea what it was going to be about (it was a hardcover with a plain red cover; my undergrad took off the dust jackets) because I liked the title.  I loved the book and sought out more Atkinson.  I haven’t yet read A God in Ruins (the companion volume to Life After Life) or Started Early, Took My Dog (the last Jackson Brody), but I’ve read all her others, with Emotionally Weird (2000) as my favorite.

I mention this because readers primarily familiar with Atkinson’s Jackson Brody novels might find Life after Life to be a departure for Atkinson, while to me it seems like a return to her previous topics and style.  Life After Life tells the story of Ursula Todd, who is born on a snowy night in 1910.  She dies at birth, but the novel immediately takes us to a different version of the story in which Ursula survives… for awhile.  Essentially, we get different versions of Ursula’s life, spanning the years from 1910 to 1967 with a particular focus on the various ways in which Ursula might live out World War II.  In one version, she marries a German man and mingles with Eva Braun; in another, she’s an air raid warden in London.  There are others, too, and in the various versions of her life Ursula lives anywhere from a few minutes to fifty-seven years.

Both Human Croquet and Emotionally Weird explore the possibilities for different outcomes based on minor differences in events, and Life After Life follows this pattern.  Unlike the previous two novels, however, it does so overtly.  Also, Ursula’s repeated rebirths are part of the events of the story.  That is, she sometimes makes decisions based on a feeling that she’s lived this particular life before, and at a couple of points she sees a psychiatrist for episodes of what she calls déjà vu.  We’re definitely supposed to believe that Ursula is reborn; it’s not just an academic exercise of telling the same story over and over with different endings.

For the most part, I really enjoyed this book.  I always enjoy Atkinson’s writing; she has a love of language that’s constantly evident in the way she uses words and, in Life after Life, in her characters’ love of poetry (after sex, for example, Ursula quotes Donne, prompting her paramour’s puzzlement; he has a more prosaic perception of the act and prompts a meditation by Ursula on a certain four-letter word).  Once Ursula manages to reach adulthood and once the birth story mostly goes away, Life after Life is well-paced, and I kept wondering how the next version of the story would allow her to survive her adventures (or not).  However, it took me forever to get into this book.  I kept picking it up and putting it down, largely because it gets kind of repetitive, especially at the beginning.  Yes, okay, Ursula was born in a snowstorm—we get it.

But perhaps the most compelling them in Life After Life has less to do with accidents of individual stories and individual choices than with the accidents that propel history.  At one point late in the novel, middle-aged Ursula says to her history-professor nephew, “But if Hitler had been killed, before he became Chancellor, it would have stopped all this conflict between the Arabs and the Israelis, wouldn’t it?”  The possibility of a world without Hitler is one Ursula pursues—we see her pursuing it the novel’s opening chapter, in fact—but she only has the opportunity to pursue it, and only knows she should pursue it, because she has lived the war years multiple times.  In the same conversation, she quotes her friend Klara, who in one version of Ursula’s life tells her “Hindsight’s a wonderful thing…  If we all had it there would be no history to write about.”  Ursula has a lot of hindsight… or is it foresight?  In any case, Life After Life provides a compelling glimpse into how history affects individual lives and a compelling meditation on how individuals might affect history.

Special Feature: Inspector Lewis: The Academic Body Count, Season 3 Part 1

Special Series: Inspector Lewis: The Academic Body Count, Season 3 Part 1

The Oxford University of ITV/PBS's Inspector Lewis is a dangerous world for academics, and in this series I bring you the lowdown on who in the academic community is most likely to kill be or be killed.  This post gives the details for episodes 1-3 of US Season Two.  All previous posts in the series (in reverse order).

I’m back, after an unanticipated hiatus induced by a combination of novel-writing, family insanity, and other things, and I have for you another Lewis post.  Season 3 is shorter than Season 2—five episodes—so I’ll break it down into two posts.  This post covers episodes 1-3, and I’ll cover episodes 4-5 in the next installment.

Having gotten the formalities out of the way, let’s move on to the season!  We have a total of eight victims in these episodes, of whom four are in some way directly affiliated with the university.  None are students, but two are faculty, one is an administrator, and the fourth is, nominally at least, staff.  Of a total of three murderers, one is staff and two are unaffiliated.  So, once again, Oxford is more dangerous to academics than in danger from them.

I’d forgotten until this rewatch how many of my favorite episodes are in Season 3.  We have rockstars, war reenactors, and a community orchestra, and we learn about both Hathaway and the M.E., Dr. Laura Hobson.  Also, I’ve learned since my last Lewis post that there are new episodes airing in Britain, as we speak.  We should have them here at some point (I’m looking at you, PBS), so there’s even more deadly fun ahead.  But, without further ado, onward to the Season 3 details!

If you haven’t seen the season, here’s the Amazon link.  It’s included with Prime if you have it.

Details for Episodes 3.1-3.3 below the cut.  Contains spoilers.

Book Review: The Lake House by Kate Morton

The Lake House

By Kate Morton

Published by Atria Books and distributed by Simon and Schuster, October 20, 2015

Purchased and read on Amazon Kindle

Links: Amazon, B&N, Powell's

Rating: Four Stars (out of five)

So I love Kate Morton’s work.  Every time I hear she’s going to release a new book, I get excited.  I’m always torn over whether to get the book as soon as it comes out and read it in bits and pieces as I have time or to wait until I have a free weekend and can seclude myself with the book and some snacks.  This time, I chose option A, not having a free weekend in the immediate future.  I think I’m glad I did.

Like all Morton books, The Lake House has two intertwined narratives, one from the present and one from the past.  In this book, the present-day (well, 2003) story concerns Sadie Sparrow, a London police detective who, after a case goes badly wrong, goes to Cornwall to stay with her grandfather.  While there, she stumbles across an old, abandoned estate and discovers that the family who lived there left the property after their baby son was kidnapped and never found.  As you can probably guess, the past (1933) story concerns what really happened the night Theo Edevane was kidnapped.  Theo’s older sister, Alice, who is a successful detective novelist, also plays a significant role in both stories.

I think I’ve mentioned that books like this, which move back and forth between the present and the past, are some of my favorites to read.  Usually in books like this I prefer one story or the other, and with Morton, that’s usually the past story.  This time, I found both narratives equally convincing and enjoyable, and I particularly liked seeing how Alice developed from the young girl in 1933 to the acerbic novelist in 2003.  As I progressed from the beginning to the middle of this book, past red herrings and false leads and alongside likable, human characters, I thought, “This is great!  I’ll finally be able to give a book five stars on the blog!”

Alas, it was not to be, and the ending is the reason why.  I had it figured out long before I finished the book, and when I first thought of it I dismissed it:  “No, she wouldn’t be that obvious, or that trite.”  Well, she was, and I was quite disappointed.  So disappointed, in fact, that I almost knocked the book down to three stars, or maybe three and a half (now that Miss Fisher has induced the half star ratings).  Then I remembered how much I enjoyed reading most of the book, and decided four was the way to go.  And now that I think about it, I was disappointed with the end of The Secret Keeper, too, after staying up way too late to finish it one night several years ago.  The Forgotten Garden thus remains, for now, my favorite Morton.

As you can see from the sidebar, I’m doing NaNoWriMo this year, and since I’m writing historical fiction I’m doing quite a bit of research reading, so this may be the last book review I post for a bit.  We shall see.

TV Review: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries Episode 3.6

“Death at the Grand”

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries Episode 3.6

Available on: Netflix or DVD (Amazon link)

Rating: Two and a Half Stars (out of five)

Why must you do this to me, show?  After a really good 3.4 and a fantastic 3.5, you give me… this.  Phryne’s father is back in this one, and neither she nor I is pleased to see him.  For the Baron of Richland is not a good father or a pleasant chap in general.  I have a feeling we’re supposed to see him as an endearing rogue, but as you can probably tell, he is not dear to me.  There are a few fun moments in the episode, and the main mystery I guess works okay, but the Baron grates, and that undermines my overall enjoyment of the episode to the extent that I had to introduce a half star for the first time ever.

The episode opens with one of the aforementioned fun moments, as Phryne quizzes Dot on different types of handguns, which are spread on the table in front of them.  Dot is an apt student, so look out, world!  Then Aunt Prudence arrives with the news that her sister, Phryne’s mother, is out of money and looking for a loan.  This means trouble, because Phryne’s father was supposed to have wired her a large sum, courtesy of Phryne, before departing Australia at the close of episode 3.1.

Then the phone rings, and it’s Jack, of course.  He needs Phryne at a crime scene; a concierge has been stabbed on the roof of Melbourne’s Grand Hotel, and a bag bearing Phryne’s name was found at the scene.  Why?  Well, instead of going back to England, the Baron of Richland has been living it up in the Grand Hotel.  And now we know why Phryne’s mother doesn’t have any money.

In their quest to figure out who killed the concierge, Phryne and Jack uncover a robbery, illicit gambling, and old feud between the Baron and one his associates.  There’s also a second murder and a possibility that the Baron might be a murderer, either in the present or the past.  Could we be so lucky?  Would this show go that dark?  That you might discover the answers to these questions is the main reason to watch this episode.  The solution to this mystery is plausible, but it’s also clearly more about setting up the last two episodes than it is about telling a story on its own.  Logically, the last episodes will involve the Baron, and I don’t like it one bit.

We also have a weird side plot involving Dot and Constable Martin, who spent the previous episode irritating us all with his sexism.  That’s improved… but will he be romantic competition for Hugh?  You can probably guess the answer to that, but just in case, I’m not telling.  This plotline does one thing: it makes me want Hugh back.  If that was the point, writers, you’ve succeeded.  Finally, there’s a bit of romantic banter between Jack and Phryne, but it felt forced to me, like it was put there just to have it there.  This is an excellent example of an episode where the mystery-solving and the romantic comedy just don’t mix very well.

As you can probably tell, I’m not fond of the episode, and I hope the writers manage to rescue the Baron’s storyline to give us something decent for the last two episodes.  I’m not terribly optimistic, but we’ll find out soon.

The next post should be a book post, and I promise I’ll have nicer things to say!

Special Feature: Inspector Lewis: The Academic Body Count, Season 2 Part 3

The Oxford University of ITV/PBS's Inspector Lewis is a dangerous world for academics, and in this series I bring you the lowdown on who in the academic community is most likely to kill be or be killed.  This post gives the details for episodes 6-7 of US Season Two.  Previous posts in the series: Intro, Season One, Season 2 Part 1, Season 2 Part 2.

 The final two episodes of Season 2 give us one undergraduate victim, three community victims (one an Oxford alum, though), and two—yes, two—faculty murderers (one for each episode).  So we’re back to the Season One problem, it would seem, insofar as Oxford is in more danger from academics than it is a danger to academics.  If it’s any comfort (and I’m not sure it is!), only in “The Quality of Mercy” do the murders directly relate to university life; in “The Point of Vanishing,” the murderer is just a murderer who happens to have “professor” as his job title.

As this is the last season 2 post, it’s time for some overall season totals.  Over seven episodes, we have fifteen victims (only episode 2.3 breaks the “two victims per episode” norm).  Three of those victims are undergrads, two are faculty, three are administrators, one is staff, and six are unaffiliated with the university.  Of eight murderers, four are faculty members (two in episode 2.1, remember) and four are unaffiliated with the university.  A variety of faculty, staff, and students assist Lewis and Hathaway in their investigations, so the university isn’t all bad for the community, but I have to admit that these episodes make faculty look pretty scary.  It’s even more worrying to this humanist that three quarters of the faculty murderers are in the humanities.  And we like to think our fields of study improve our behavior toward our fellow humans!  The good news, I guess, is that while grad school often feels like a kill-or-be-killed kind of world, not one grad student has done either—yet (though to be fair it’s kind of a grad student’s fault that everything goes so badly wrong in “The Quality of Mercy”).

If you haven't seen the season, here's the Amazon link.  It's included with Prime, if you have it.

Details for Episodes 2.6 and 2.7 below the cut.  Contains spoilers.

Book Review: The Adventuress by Tasha Alexander

The Adventuress (Lady Emily Mysteries #10)

By Tasha Alexander

Published by Minotaur Books and distributed by Macmillan, October 13, 2015

Purchased and read on Amazon Kindle

Links: Amazon, B&N, Powell's

Rating: Four Stars (out of five)

Lest you think this blog has over the course of its brief life morphed into an all-Lewis-and-Phryne TV-fest, let me disabuse you of that notion by posting a review of the most recent Lady Emily mystery by Tasha Alexander.  This series, which focuses on the crime-solving adventures of an English noblewoman at the end of the nineteenth century, is one of my favorites, and for at least the last several years Alexander has released a new volume every October.  I hope she keeps it up for a while at least.

The Adventuress marks a return to form after what were, for me, a couple of less worthy entries in the series.  Both Behind the Shattered Glass (2013) and The Counterfeit Heiress (2014) had resolutions that were either unsatisfying or so obvious as to be irritating.  In The Adventuress, Emily’s lifelong friend and one-time suitor Jeremy Sheffield is finally engaged—to an American heiress named Amity Wells.  Amity’s family arranges a two-week engagement celebration in Cannes, to which Emily and her husband Colin, along with some other friends and family, are invited.  Soon after their arrival, Jeremy’s friend Chauncey Neville dies by drinking poisoned whiskey.  Everyone but Emily believes it’s a suicide, but when a young French dancer who had met the English party on the night of Chauncey’s death is found murdered, Emily’s instincts are proven right.

Amity of course knows about Emily and Jeremy’s longstanding friendship and one-time romance, and she sets out to befriend Emily.  However, someone wants her to think that Emily has no interest in her friendship and is out to sabotage her engagement.  Who?  Why?  The solution to this mystery is integral to the resolution of the murder plot. Like all of the Lady Emily books, The Adventuress uses alternating narrative perspectives.  This time, we get third-person narration from Amity’s point of view as well as Emily's first-person perspective. This has caused Alexander problems in the past, most notably in The Counterfeit Heiress where the second narrative voice made the mystery's solution fairly obvious, but in The Adventuress, it works pretty well by developing the "who wants to sabotage Emily and Amity's friendship" plot alongside the murder plot.

The Lady Emily books overall are fun, quick reads.  If you’re a fan of the Late Victorian era or of historical mysteries in general, they’re reliably enjoyable in spite of the occasional dud.  One thing I really appreciate about this series is that once Emily and Colin are married (at the end of book 3), their relationship is mostly a background to the mysteries.  It’s nice to read about a partnership between a married couple who love and can count on each other without a lot of relationship-based drama.  I particularly like how, in The Adventuress, jealousy never enters the picture on Colin’s part, even though there’s some suggestion that Jeremy and Emily might have lingering feelings for each other.

On a final note, for fans of other historical mysteries there’s a lovely shoutout to Elizabeth Peters’s Amelia Peabody books.  I like thinking of the characters as all inhabiting the same fictional world at the end of the nineteenth century.  Overall, I enjoyed this book a lot and will continue to look forward to new entries in the series.

TV Review: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries Episode 3.5

“Death and Hysteria”

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries Episode 3.5

Available on: Netflix (DVDs will be released on October 27, 2015)

Rating: Five Stars (out of five)

Okay, so this episode isn’t perfect, but it’s the best episode of the season so far.  It has everything you’d expect from a Miss Fisher mystery: a twisty turny plot, lots of witty banter, beautiful clothes, and Phryne insisting on helping those cast aside by mainstream society—in this case, “hysterical” women.

The episode opens with a group of women dancing the lawn at Aunt Prudence’s estate.  We then see Aunt Prudence conversing with the head psychiatrist, Dr. Samuels, and learn that she is letting the doctor use her house as a sanatorium because he has helped her cope with her son Arthur’s death.  When one of the patients dies by electrocution, aunt Prudence summons both her niece and the police, so Phryne and Jack are soon on the scene.  We soon learn that all is not as it seems with Dr. Samuels and his partner Dr. Perkins, and Phryne wonders if her aunt might have been taken in by an unscrupulous practitioner intent on taking Prudence’s money.  The case takes numerous twists and turns as we discover that Dr. Samuels is in disgrace with his medical colleagues, in no small part because he tries to save women from unnecessary hysterectomies.  Dr. Perkins, too, is up to something as is his sister Harriet, who serves as the doctors’ secretary and assistant.  The solution is moderately shocking and the episode is well-plotted so that the reveal makes sense.

I won’t reveal the murder weapon; let it suffice to say that it leads to much witty banter and some understated hilarity when our heroes discover it, and it allows for lots of innuendo between Phryne and Jack.  Their relationship is at its finest; we see the attraction but we’re not hit over the head with it and both characters behave like the ones we’ve come to know and love.  Hugh is completely absent, as he’s still on the sulky fishing trip he embarked on after being refused a promotion in Episode 3.4, causing this viewer to wonder whether the actor had another break, or the show had a budget issue, or what, because pouty Hugh is a weird story choice.  His replacement is an extremely sexist and irritating constable; as Mac remarks, “It’s men like that, that make the rest of them look reasonable.”  Fortunately he’s not around enough to spoil the episode.

Overall, this was a fun, well-plotted episode, and I hope the rest of the season continues in this vein.