Mystery

Book Review: Opium and Absinthe by Lydia Kang

July 10, 2020July 10, 2020 Jess DoranLeave a comment

When you think about New York City at the turn of the century, 1899 going on 1900, what do you think of? In the past I might have said Industrialization, immigration and tenement living. All of these play a role in Lydia Kang’s Opium and Absinthe, but the story covers so much more. From the Upper West Side to the Lower East, from the Astors to the Newsies, this story explores the inner workings of NYC and a young well-to-do girl who navigates them in order to solve the mystery of her sister’s death.

Tillie Pembroke is a teenage girl with a fondness for reading. She loves to learn and consistently consults her Dictionary, a steady companion. Tillie suffers a horse riding accident, breaking her collarbone. When she wakes, she gets the news that her sister is missing, and later finds she’s been murdered. Lucy is found with small bite marks on her neck, her body devoid of blood. In her despair, Tillie turns to the medicines that her doctor has prescribed for her pain – laudanum, opium, morphine, and then heroin. Each that is provided to her is easier to secure than the last. They are given easily as an outlet for her pain, as a sedative, to prevent “hysteria” as is so common with emotional women. Most importantly, they are given to silence her, to stop her asking questions, to demure her inquisitive nature.

The story is told through Tillie’s perspective, and through most of it, Tillie is addicted to painkillers. I thought this was an intriguing POV. As Tillie comes to realizations about her wellness, her sister’s death, her relationships, the reader learns them through the clouded lens of Tillie’s drug use. The reader sympathizes with Tillie’s need for opium to dull the pain towards the beginning, but panics about her subsequent addiction. It was a perfect way to make sure the reader empathized with Tillie and was invested in her recovery.

This part of the novel was an important commentary on mental health, which Lydia Kang actually mentions in her writer’s notes. Although the prescriptive qualities of these drugs were permissible at the time, the overwhelming addictive qualities were ignored. Tillie is checked into a rehab facility, but is quickly given heroin pills by a suitor in an effort to win her affections. Tillie is eventually able to possess the mental stamina to withdraw herself from the drugs, her need for the truth about her sister driving her desire to be sober.

Once lucid, Tillie dives into her leads, investigating with the help of a Newsie turned-journalist, Ian Metzger. Ian is a parentless teen who shows Tillie the underbelly of the city, sparking her interest in journalism further.

I really enjoyed this book. Paralleled by Bram Stoker’s Dracula, which had just been released at the time, Tillie is enthralled by vampire lore, trying to tie the threads of her sister’s death together to identify a killer. Quotes from Dracula open each chapter, setting the stage for the macabre mystery. In the end, however, Tillie finds that a much more human foe is the culprit.

Series Review: A Curious Beginning and A Perilous Undertaking by Deanna Raybourn

April 8, 2020 Jess DoranLeave a comment

The first two novels in the Veronica Speedwell mystery series have been highly entertaining. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to jump into a series that takes place in another time and still feel a connection to the characters.

Historical fiction is unique in that sense. It allows the reader insight into another time by allowing for comparison to be made to the present day without the necessity of direct parallels. On the surface, you would think that I would have little to relate to a 19th century orphan who turns out to be a closeted princess. But Veronica is one of the bluntest, sharpest, and most charismatic female protagonists, particularly of fiction more geared towards Young Adults.

Veronica Speedwell has just buried her aunt when she comes home to a stranger burglarizing her home. It’s no matter for Veronica, who already had plans to leave the family home in search of new adventures, except for the arrival of a stranger whose motive is to help her. The Baron, as he comes to be known, is assured that Veronica is in danger, even though she is quite certain the robbery was random.

He convinces her to travel with him to London. A young, unmarried woman, Veronica isn’t cawed by this proposition in the least. She decides to assuage this kind man’s fears and accompany him. After her arrival in London, the Baron delivers her into the watch of an old friend, Stoker. Veronica isn’t pleased at all to be passed from man to man, especially because she believes herself not to be in danger. But when the Baron is murdered, Veronica and Stoker team up to find out what happened to the Baron.

I saw someone refer to the romance between Stoker and Veronica as a “slow burn” the other day, and boy, is it. Veronica is curt and doesn’t mince her words, telling Stoker her exact thoughts as she thinks them, whether they be inappropriate, worldly, or apt to make him blush. Stoker playfully banters with Veronica as well, but is wholly devoted to protecting her, no matter her insistence of not needing protection. Although the attraction is clearly there, their friendship is paramount, which is comforting to the reader.

Stoker supports Veronica as she comes into new information about herself and is faced with her greatest challenge yet: entering the world of the royal family.

As the second book unfolds, Veronica and Stoker, backdoor detectives, are hired to investigate the murder of a young female artist. Her lover and the father of her unborn baby is set to hang for the crime, so Stoker and Veronica are up against a ticking clock with limited resources. The police seem set on hanging their culprit, although shadowy forces in the background who hire Stoker and Veronica seem less convinced.

This is probably the least plausible aspect of the novels: that two natural scientists (Stoker is a physician and taxidermist and Veronica is a lepidopterist: studier of butterflies) would be hired in any capacity to investigate a murder or stop a hanging. But that’s why it’s fun!

The 19th Century British procedural meets the Jane Austen love story in this series. The protagonists are considered odd, but we know now that they were simply before their time. As such, these books are easy to absorb and the perfect distraction from the now, which is just what I’ve been looking for. Can’t wait to read more!

books · Mystery

Book Review: A Fatal Grace by Louise Penny

February 3, 2020February 3, 2020 Jess DoranLeave a comment

A Fatal Grace is the second novel in the Chief Inspector Gamache series by Louise Penny. Popular with the bookstagram community and in online circles, Louise Penny is well-known for her penchant for the murder mystery. She’s been creating the world of Gamache since 2005 with the publication of Still Life.

Still Life finds Chief Inspector Armand Gamache called to Three Pines to investigate the murder of an older woman, Jane Neal. A Fatal Grace brings the reader back to Three Pines for another investigation, this time of a middle-aged woman universally disliked, CC des Poitiers.

Penny’s newest novel in the series was released in late 2019 and having heard good things about it, I was interested in starting the series from the beginning. Now, after finishing the sophomore book in the series, I feel more apt to comment on the story and the characters themselves. The series has now fully lured me in with its rich descriptions of land, folk, and lore.

Initially I was concerned about Penny’s return to Three Pines. There are a fair few books in the series, and I kept thinking about the actuality that so many murders would occurin a sleepy, small town like Three Pines. I was wary that the series would begin to seem unbelievable. But comforted by my familiarity with the characters and the backdrop, I fell quickly into A Fatal Grace and didn’t look back.

Many of the characters from Still Life resurface in the novel, including Clara and Peter Morrow, local artists who were close to the murdered Jane Neal. There are also a number of familiar faces in the owners of the local bistro, Olivier and Gabri, and the retired poet that Gamache so admires, Ruth Zardo.

Aside from my concerns that there wouldn’t actually be so many murders in a small town like this, my other concern about believability was brought to light in the happenstance way that Gamache conducts his investigations. He ingrains himself in the politics of the town, getting to know each person and what makes them tick. He tells a young detective Robert Lemieux, “You need to know this. Everything makes sense. Everything. We just don’t know how yet. You have to see through the murderer’s eyes. That’s the trick, Agent Lemieux, and that’s why not everyone’s cut out for homicide. You need to know that it seemed like a good idea, a reasonable action, to the person who did it…No, Agent Lemieux, our job is to find the sense.”

Of course, this notion of knowing that the crime makes sense, and trusting that it does, propel Gamache to be the talented investigator that he is. But his methods are somewhat unorthodox. I find that his friendships with the members of the town are so close, that he offers information to could-be killers. He is often found at the bistro talking casually to someone that the reader later finds out has a major motive. I wondered why a lot of these conversations weren’t taking place in police headquarters, or atleast being recorded. It almost seems that Gamache’s utmost trust in the world “making sense” also makes him somewhat naïve. This naiveté may end up becoming a weakness.

CC des Poitiers is an awful human – rude, self-obsessed, and undeserving of any remorse. Still, Gamache must investigate who decided her life would be cut short. CC is electrocuted in a near impossible murder. She is killed while watching a curling match, her un-gloved hand on a metal chair which has been connected to a generator. She is standing in a puddle, and her shoes have metal on them. All of these would have to be known by the murderer in order to kill her. Gamche sets to work, investigating her husband, her daughter, and various others in the town. As he investigates though, he comes upon another murder in Montreal and is faced with the reality that the cases may not be unrelated. I am thoroughly enjoying the Chief Inspector Gamache series and I’m looking forward to reading more from Louise Penny.

Mystery · Thriller

Book Review: The Winter People by Jennifer McMahon

January 5, 2020 Jess DoranLeave a comment

Happy New Year from the 2 Book Girls! It looks like we’ve taken an unplanned hiatus over the last few months, with holiday plans and travel getting in the way of sitting down and enjoying a good book! I have been listening to a few audiobooks, which are easy to tune in to on a plane or a train. Still, I found myself ravenous for a new book in some quiet moments around the New Year. The Winter People by Jennifer McMahon ended up being an enjoyable surprise.

Truth be told, I took the book on vacation because it was small and packable, never a bad reason! The story is written in two different time periods: 1908 and the present day. Following the story of a modern teenage girl living in rural Vermont, Ruthie, and a young new mother in the early 1900s, Sara, the novel adroitly switches back and forth in sequence.

Sara Harrison Shea is the subject of lore for the constituents of West Hall, Vermont. She was allegedly killed by her husband, Martin, after the tragic death of their young daughter, a family torn apart by grief. The house they lived in, in front of the famed landmark mountain outcropping the Devil’s Hand, is said to be haunted. That historic house is now inhabited by a family named the Washburne’s.

Ruthie Washburne comes back from a night out to find her mother gone, a cup of tea still on the table. She goes to sleep and awakes to her mother still missing, and her six-year-old sister asking where she is. Ruthie takes on all the responsibility of caring for her sister, while simultaneously trying to figure out where her mother has gone.

Ruthie and her sister, Fawn, discover hidden papers in the floorboards of the house in their search for clues about their mother, the diary of Sara Harrison Shea. The diary elucidates the tale of the death of Sara’s daughter Gertie, and her decision to bring her back from the dead. Sara knew the secrets of awakening the dead, or creating sleepers[rd1] , from her pseudo-adopted mother, an aboriginal woman who raised her as her own. Auntie’s tragic death is also documented in Sara’s writings.

As Ruthie starts asking questions in town, she finds that the lore of Sara Harrison Shea may be more than just lore. With finding her mother as her North Star, Ruthie meets some people who simultaneously help her understand where her mother may be, and throw her into a new line of fire.

Ruthie is a bold character, and I found her storyline very compelling. Her wholehearted interest in keeping her sister safe throughout the novel is juxtaposed by her typical teenage personality in the first few chapters. I found her growth in the face of adversity to be paramount to the novel’s realism. Although the subject of awaking the dead can often be steeped in tales of witchcraft, I found the basis of the novel was more historic, making the tale somewhat more believable.

The Winter People was thoroughly entertaining, and I will be picking up more work by Jennifer McMahon.

[rd1]

books · Mystery

Book Review: Miracle Creek by Angie Kim

June 14, 2019 Jess DoranLeave a comment

Oops, I did it again. I got overly excited about a book with rave reviews, a book that’s absolutely blowing up online and on social media, and I got a little let down. Miracle Creek has been #1 on my TBR list for awhile and I’m a little bummed that I wasn’t totally into it. However, there are a lot of redeeming qualities to this book and I did enjoy it! Just maybe not as much as I hoped.

The story follows a family of immigrants from Seoul and a few other key characters as they navigate the aftermath of an explosion and a subsequent murder trial. The Paks own “Miracle Submarine,” a hyperbaric oxygen chamber that is used to treat a variety of medical conditions, including the symptoms of autism, cerebral palsy, and infertility.

Although some consider the oxygen treatment to be “quack” medicine, the Paks are excited to finally be living their American dream and hoping for the success of the future.

The author of the novel, Angie Kim, does an excellent job telling the story from multiple point of views. This writing technique upped the mystery and enticed the reader to understand how the crime possibly could have been committed by multiple characters in the novel. Each POV showed the motivations of a different character.

Kim’s overarching and triumphant rhetoric on motherhood throughout the story is overwhelmingly troubling, but it’s also raw and shows a masterful understanding of the complexities of being a mother. She taps into the varying emotions of love, unquestioning devotion, but also the moments of weakness that motherhood forces one to confront: pain, hatred, and the occasional desire to be free of the tether of having a child.

Elizabeth’s story, however troubling, elucidates an ever-shamed aspect of motherhood. Her story brings the question of what constitutes abuse to the forefront. In today’s cultural climate, one that simultaneously shames women for breastfeeding but also hinders the rights of women to conceive, raise and treat their children, this story line was eyeopening and necessary.

Elizabeth, the mother of an autistic child, Henry, is accused of his murder. Without physical evidence, the prosecution resorts to attacking the way she has cared for his child over the course of his life. She’s subjected him to alternative therapies for his autism, treatment after treatment, to try to perfect his focus, his speech, his attention to detail, and his behavior itself. Her near-obsessive desire to “fix” Henry becomes the sole argument, the most damning evidence against her – deemed as “unnecessary” and overkill. Henry was getting better, why was she trying to make him perfect?

Elizabeth’s inner debate is fascinating. She questions herself. The conversation stemming from Elizabeth’s plight makes for great food for thought. Although some of the other characters fell a bit flat for me, I thought Kim’s personification of “the mother” through multiple characterizations showed how motherhood is different for everyone, there is no right way to parent, and those that force their opinion on other parents are often doing more harm than good.

Fantasy · Mystery

Book Review: Once Upon a River by Diane Setterfield

June 7, 2019 Jess DoranLeave a comment

The river knows the secrets of small towns, and they won’t stay secrets long.

I initially became interested in Diane Setterfield when hearing the rave reviews about Once Upon a River. Not being able to get my hands on the book right away (moving expenses make it hard to buy new hardcover releases!) I settled on purchasing The Thirteenth Tale.

Although similar, Once Upon a River was miles above and, in my opinion, showcases how an author can grow and come into their craft.

The story started slow, with such an elaborate cast of characters, introductions were lengthy and tiresome. I wasn’t overly excited from the first few chapters.

What resonated in this novel, compounded by my reading of Setterfield’s works before, is that her writing is symbolic – sometimes overly so. In The Thirteenth Tale I was exhausted by it. I felt like the message was being beat into me. But in this novel, she really embraces the idea of the river as a focal point for the story. The tale flowed, indeed, like a river.

The Thames is the soul of several separate, intricate stories, but as Setterfield points out, it could be any river and this story could take place in any town. She writes, “And now, dear reader, the story is over. It is time for you to cross the bridge once more and return to the world you came from. This river, which is and is not the Thames, must continue flowing without you. You have haunted here long enough, and besides, you surely have rivers of your own to attend to?”

I love the addressing of the reader, the inclusion creating a prescient atmosphere. Setterfield attempts to bring a story to life as something that lives and breathes, and she achieves it. Her snaking, slick storytelling is a microcosm of the tale itself. Storytelling exists in this book in it’s most enticing form: from beginning to end, wrought with details and imagery. She leaves no stone unturned.

It is almost as if she biographizes the story: she plays with how a story is created, how a story is told and digested, how a story evolves, and how those whom the story touches evolve as well.

Like her emphasis on the symbolism of the river, Setterfield also explores the topic of duality, and how we as humans reach for the familiar even when we know it isn’t real or appropriate. We cling to mimicry in the hope that our past loves, losses, and comforts will return to us.

Setterfield stays away from the mundane, and draws the story to a satisfying conclusion without compromising realism. The mystical and magical elements and drivers in the novel act as catalysts for the characters to find their happiness in the actuality of their lives and their existence, rather than letting them lose themselves in illusion.

Above all, Setterfield has created a story, a realistic one, where real people find their happy endings in the face of adversity. Don’t we all love that?

books · Mystery

Book Review: The Lost Man by Jane Harper

May 16, 2019May 16, 2019 Jess DoranLeave a comment

The Lost Man by Jane Harper, The Lost Man — Three brothers at odds in the Australian Outback.

I was excited to dive into The Lost Man by Jane Harper. It has been awhile since I’ve read something set in the current day, but in a place totally foreign to me.

The Lost Man takes place in the Australian Outback. In my opinion, the description of the setting is the redemption of this novel. Harper’s portrayal of the Outback is unforgiving, labored, and effusive – a fitting parallel for the Australian desert itself.

Uneducated as to the harsh realities of the Outback, I embraced the feeling of imminent danger that the characters could be confronted with at any time as I was reading. In the beginning, the possibilities of the mystery seemed endless and the excitement made me eager to read more.

But other than the rich backdrop, the characters were not convincing or relatable or fun. Or any superlative for that matter.

The Lost Man himself, Cameron Bright, is supposedly a well-liked, all around great guy. He takes a quick (really quick) turn mid-story into a character that, well, pretty much deserved to die. I suddenly felt a lot less eager to find out what happened to him, which isn’t exactly what you strive for with a “who-dun-it.”

I cataloged this in “Mystery.” Because although it is marketed as a psychological thriller, I thought it was very lacking to be categorized that way.

The story is paralleled by the story of another man lost in the Australian wilderness. I found the old legend of “The Stockman’s Grave” to be far more interesting than the story of Cameron’s death: not a great sign.

I wasn’t overly surprised at the ending, I now know way more than I need to know about the exponential dingo population in the Outback, and I officially don’t want to visit because of all the ways I can think for someone to murder me, none of which the author used.

Crikey. The verdict is to kangaroo-hop around this one.

Beach Reads · books · Mystery

Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens – Book Review

May 1, 2019May 1, 2019 Jess DoranLeave a comment

Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens has become a bit of a phenomenon. If you haven’t noticed, rave reviews of the novel are popping up everywhere, and not without good reason. As a reader, and in other facets of my day-to-day life, I tend to not give in to the hype. Rather, I try desperately to resist the hyped-up books, TV shows, and trends, until I eventually give in and admit I was wrong about not believing the hype all along.

Crawdads was on my list, but it was bumped to the top when my Dad chose it for our family book club. The decision was made for me, and I’m glad.

Kya Clark is the “Marsh Girl.” Abandoned by her parents at a young age, one a battered wife, one a drunk, she grows up in a shack on the North Carolina swamp, raising herself beside the gulls and the shellfish.

Kya lives a lonesome existence. The story ebbs and flows like the tides of the marsh, ushering loneliness forth with the tide. The story conveys the state of isolation as reprehensible, and yet the most natural state of being.

Desperate to learn, Kya is taught to read by a local boy, Tate Walker. Tate is a wholesome, selfless character who serves the purpose of loving and caring for Kya above all else. Even when he makes mistakes, Tate is immediately regretful and willing to devote himself completely to making Kya trust him again.

One issue I have with the character development is Tate’s Christ-like goodness. He’s just too good. Conversely, Kya is extremely untrusting, unwilling to ask for or accept help. Neither is a believable character, TBH.

Humans are social beings, born out of connection and bred for it. With a lack of socialization, Kya’s development parallels the marsh more so than it does her peers in the village. Kya and the marsh are symbiotic. It feeds her, teaches hers to grow and mature in her biology. In turn, she takes care of the gulls, feeds them, nurtures them like her friends. Kya’s love for the marsh is both endearing and heartbreaking.

“Needing people ended in hurt.” Kya learns this as a child of the marsh, and as she grows, she doubles down on this belief. It may be unfortunate, but Kya’s experience teaches her that love disappoints. And hurts. She just does not want to give in to that hurt, which I commend.

The masses are voraciously claiming this book to be fantastic. I say, it’s a great story. I found the ending to be satisfactory based on the distant way Kya developed throughout. Her character comes full circle in the sunset of the novel in a way that I found to be refreshingly true to the character.

books · Mystery

Review: The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

March 16, 2019April 14, 2019 Jess DoranLeave a comment

I was in a bit of reading slump lately. Everything that I had been picking up was very slow. I was perusing Amazon for new releases when I stumbled on The Thirteenth Tale. Once I realized that Once Upon a River, another novel by Setterfield I’ve been hearing a lot about, won’t be released until the summer, I lost myself in the author bio and took a look at some of Setterfield’s past work. The Thirteenth Tale stood out.

This book was as eerie as described and even more unsettling than I anticipated. Margaret Lea, the daughter of a a bookshop owner, is called upon, unprompted, by famed author Vida Winter to write the legend’s biography.

Vida Winter is notorious for lying to reporters and making up outlandish stories about her past. She has not told (or faced) the truth about her life ever before, but now chooses Margaret to write the truth.

One of my biggest issues with the book was that Ms. Winter seemed way too comfortable with Margaret. For someone who had kept her life a complete secret, she is all too prepared to tell this absolute stranger her full story, without any reasoning for why. In my opinion, Vida’s justification for why she hired Margaret doesn’t explain her comfort with her. I would have expected a closeted person to have more walls up. Still, Vida Winter is a complex and satisfying character. She is a storyteller, and she is determined to make sure she remains as such, even as she is narrating the story of her own life.

Margaret is a far less exciting character. She is the daughter of a bookshop owner (a personal dream) and yet she is somehow able to make even that seem boring. She’s never read a Vida Winter book, but is called upon to bring her character to life, the only known record of the writer’s life. She wouldn’t be my first choice.

Vida Winter reveals her secrets (and some that are not hers to tell) to Margaret. Their developing friendship is heartwarming – one gets the sense neither of them has ever had a true friend.

The underlying theme of the novel is identity. Both characters struggle with it, and not in the traditional “finding yourself” way you see in most novels. Both women are twins. There is A LOT of twin symbolism in this book. Typically I find the twin/psychic telepathy theme to be overplayed, but the layers of originality in the story are too good to be mistaken for poor thematic writing.

Margaret was born with a twin, but she died after a surgery was performed to separate their connected torsos. She has lived the rest of her life with the incessant feeling that there is a piece of herself missing – a feeling that leaves her largely depressed and not all that much of an asset to society. She feels guilt at surviving. She feels lost for surviving. This faceted idea of identity resonated with me. As someone who is largely independent, and yet still has the tug of directions when making decisions, I can’t imagine the feeling of having a missing piece of myself that I feel an allegiance to, an ever-nagging shadow.

The identity crisis goes much further. It’s deep and surprising and gives the book a mysterious, gothic quality.

The crossover between Gothic and Realism is a winner. Diane Setterfield s a great storyteller and I think this is a quality read for those looking for a mystery that isn’t just based in modern-missing-girl-true-crime (looking at you, Girl on the Train). If you want a mystery with edge, a complex story, ghostly hauntings, and good writing – read this!