Tag Archives: book review

Thinking About Thinking #21 – A Scribe Dies in Brooklyn – Can a rabbi be a good detective?

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Here’s my book review of A Scribe Dies in Brooklyn, a Rabbi Ben mystery by Marvin J. Wolf.

Author Marvin J. Wolf

If you’ve followed these reviews, you know I talked about Abandoned in Hell, a Vietnam war memoir coauthored by Marvin Wolf. That review has had more hits than any of mine so far, both in text on the Splash Magazineswebsite and in the GetPublished! Radio podcasts. I believe that’s because Marv is a masterful storyteller who has a knack for finding compelling subjects. (I call him by his first name because, I proudly confess, he’s a colleague and a friend.)

You may come to think of Rabbi Ben, the protagonist of Marv’s mystery series, the same way. Here is the kind of righteous, empowered avenger you’d want as a friend if you ever found yourself the target of unscrupulous thugs in a dark alley in the boroughs of New York.

Rabbi Ben Maimon made his literary debut in For Whom the Shofar Blows (originally titled The Tattooed Rabbi). Ben’s mission in this second thriller is to track down a missing ancient manuscript, the Aleppo Codex, the oldest known Hebrew copy of the Tanakh, which contains all twenty-four books of the Hebrew Bible. If you think a quest for some crusty, old parchment would be a scholarly snore, you’ve been living in a cave and never heard of Dan Brown or never seen Tom Hanks’ portrayals of the obsessive Dr. Robert Langdon. And, like Langdon, Ben has a talent for finding obscure facts, beautiful women who offer their passionate assistance and support, and more physical threats than your average street-wise operative could handle.

As to the physical threats, you’d think a man of God would rarely if ever need to resort to violence. But, as in ancient times, these days not only books but also places of worship are being destroyed by zealots who want to rewrite history. And, as the global underground economy grows ever larger, there are thieves and cutthroats who don’t hesitate to kill for religious artifacts because one side or the other is willing to pay for them with suitcases full of cash.

So, as is the deceptively mild-mannered Mr. Wolf, Rabbi Ben is accomplished in the martial arts. If your heart beats faster when a good thriller is peppered with against-the-odds altercations, some bloody, you will not be disappointed.

Another close colleague of mine, the sci-fi cult author Thomas Page, recently reminded me that Ian Flemingbelieved readers lust after pointless detail. That’s why fans of his James Bond thrillers know a Walther PPK from a Smith & Wesson .45 and why if you drive an Aston Martin you will thank your mechanic for tuning up the turbocharger when you need to make a fast getaway.

Readers of A Scribe Dies in Brooklyn whose scavenger minds likewise lust for detail will learn so much here about Jewish arcana that you might feel as though you’ve successfully completed a college-level course in religious studies.

And you won’t want to wait for the next Rabbi Ben mystery.

In Clifford’s Spiral a stroke survivor tries to piece together the fragments of his memories. Was he the victim or the perpetrator? 2020 IPA Distinguished Favorite in Literary Fiction.

Thinking About Thinking #20 – Vinegar Girl by Anne Tyler – Sweet and sour?

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Here’s my book review of Vinegar Girl,by Anne Tyler.

Vinegar Girl is a title in the publisher’s Hogarth Shakespeare series, which implies the book was inspired by one of the Bard’s plays. Tyler’s romantic comedy is not so much a retelling of The Taming of the Shrew (which Broadway musical fans will recognize as Kiss Me, Kate) as it is a latter-day riff on its theme.

The main character’s name is Kate, which is the key similarity to the old tale, but this Kate is by no means a shrew. She’s an independent woman. (And perhaps that’s the essential point.) It’s not that this Kate hates men – she’s mostly indifferent to them. She honors her father, widowed Dr. Louis Battista, a ditsy research scientist who spends most of his time holed up in his lab with dozens of mice. She indulges her sister Bunny, a teen-with-attitude who (no surprise) won’t clean her room or do her own laundry. Kate tends to the two of them in a big, old house and not only washes their clothes but also cooks and does just enough housekeeping to avoid the appearance of a rat’s nest. As well, she works as an assistant at a private preschool where the teachers are mostly fussy older women who disapprove of both her unmarried status and her wardrobe, which consists of jeans and tops and the one denim skirt she wears when her pants are all in her neglected pile of laundry.

She’s not unattractive – she’s tall and slender with olive skin and long, silky black hair. But she hasn’t had a date in mouse-ages, and she isn’t sufficiently motivated to go after the only male teacher at the school, who happens to be about her age and presumably unattached. But her life’s awkward routine changes suddenly when the doctor formulates a solution to a problem that has been nagging him: The work visa of his brilliant research assistant Pyotr is due to expire. A neat resolution would be to induce Kate to marry him so the klutzy fellow needn’t go back to Russia before their research project is completed.

How this plays out won’t come as a surprise if you know your Shakespeare or your Cole Porter. As in Tyler’s other novels, the emotional turning point is subtle. One clue is an exchange between Pyotr and Kate when she warns him that you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. Kate begins to realize that his grasp of English is much better than he lets on when he wryly asks his “vinegar girl” why she would even want to catch flies.

Happily ever after? Gimme a break – what world do you live in? But as Kate might say if you pressed her, if she’d wanted to be bored she’d have married someone else.

In Clifford’s Spiral a stroke survivor tries to piece together the fragments of his memories. Was he the victim or the perpetrator? 2020 IPA Distinguished Favorite in Literary Fiction.

Thinking About Thinking #19 – How can a clever girl beat the game?

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Here’s my book review of An Object of Beauty by Steve Martin.

You may already know that actor-comedian Steve Martin not only writes gags and skits, but also screenplays, plays, and several books. (He’s also a talented five-string banjo player!) An Object of Beauty is a humorous novel about a scheming young woman making her way in the aristo world of New York art galleries. Oh, and you can add art connoisseur, historian, and collector to Martin’s credentials. He has his own multimillion-dollar private collection, so researching this book probably took little more effort than looking around the walls of his home and remembering details of those transactions.

Main character Lacey Yeager is a looker with brains who has no qualms about sleeping her way to the top of the art-world rat heap. She is sexy, clever, manipulative, shameless, and almost totally heedless. And in this story she goes from being a newbie intern to proprietor of her own trendy gallery. And along the way she goes through boyfriends almost as often as the Manhattan fashion trends shift. There’s the serious, caring metrosexual journalist, a gallery owner or two, a pop artist, a rich playboy broker who may be a scammer, and an FBI agent.

You’ll learn a lot about art – how it’s made, how it’s valued, and what’s in and what’s out. Lacey is one of those characters whose outrageous attitudes don’t fail to fascinate. She’ll hold your attention and keep you guessing what clever ploy she’ll try next. But, oddly enough for a book so well crafted, there are several major plot threads that simply go nowhere or are resolved in uninteresting ways. Did Martin get bored with them? Or did he decide those yarns would be too much of a hassle to spin out or explain? Or is he somehow saying – that’s life – that situation you’re worried about might not turn out as you expect – in fact, it might not go anywhere at all!

For example, I’m dying to know whether there’s a Rembrandt under that Russian painting. So if you happen to run into Steve in the grocery store, please ask him for me.

In Clifford’s Spiral a stroke survivor tries to piece together the fragments of his memories. Was he the victim or the perpetrator? 2020 IPA Distinguished Favorite in Literary Fiction.

Thinking About Thinking #17 – Right Ho, Jeeves! – Oh, for a butler who has all the answers!

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Set in the Roaring ‘Twenties, Right Ho, Jeeves by the British humorist P.G. Wodehouse is a collection of stories about a young wealthy gentleman, Bertie Wooster, and his manservant Jeeves. Bertie is well-meaning, but lazy and not particularly bright. He freely admits Jeeves is the brainy one. Bertie always makes a mess of getting a chum out of romantic or money trouble, and Jeeves always comes up with some cockeyed scheme that saves the day.

Just after World War I, the male population of Europe had been decimated by the war. Bertie’s comic fear of his dowager aunt reflected the reality that much of England’s  private wealth was then in the hands of older women. Young men like him who had been infants during the war were so appalled by the state of the world that they coped by acting like bratty little boys who refused to grow up.

So – avoid responsibility, romantic entanglements, and financial conundrums. Fear marriage and anyone in uniform. Pursue amusement, particularly if a practical joke will end in what Bertie’s chums call a “good wheeze.” Fraternize with like-minded adult males who, despite their elevated social standing, aspire to remain boys. Encourage food fights, but only with dinner rolls so as not to create a mess for which responsibility would have to be assumed. Coordinate rugby scrums in the clubroom, but only if fragile crockery has first been cleared. Solving real-world problems (such as romantic entanglements) by way of practical jokes and stratagems might not work but it’s always worth a good try.

Our world – like his – is anything but silly these days. But sometimes what Bertie called a “good wheeze” is just the thing to put a chap right.

In Clifford’s Spiral a stroke survivor tries to piece together the fragments of his memories. Was he the victim or the perpetrator? 2020 IPA Distinguished Favorite in Literary Fiction.

 

Thinking About Thinking #12: The Goldfinch – What price loyalty if no love back?

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What price loyalty if no love back? Here’s my book review of The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt.

This is a story about art theft and romantic obsession. Main character Theodore Decker is very much the boychik – a young man with more ambition than brains. So it’s a coming-of-age story, as well, full of his personal introspection and psychological turmoil.

Be warned – plot spoilers ahead.

Young Theo and his mother duck into a New York museum in the rain and are caught in a terrorist bomb blast. His mother is killed, but he is one of the few survivors. Another fatality is a cultured old man named Welty, who was at the museum with his pretty young ward Pippa. She’s close to Theo’s age and also survives, but with some debilitating injuries. She will become the unrequited love of his life. Before Welty expires next to Theo in the rubble, he gives him his signet ring and tells him to take this small painting – The Goldfinch – a Dutch Master picture of a bird chained to its perch. Theo takes on the mission to keep the painting safe.

That’s as much of the story as I’ll give away. There’s a lot more – this is a big book. The novel owes a lot to Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past and Dostoevsky’s The Idiot, and it mentions both. The underlying philosophical questions are broad and deep: Why is there evil in the world? What is the point of living? And what do we owe to history? to future generations?

A literary agent told me that author Donna Tartt refuses to be edited. Like I say, it’s a long book. It topped the bestseller lists for a while, and clearly many of her readers hoped it would be worth the time invested.

As for me, I applaud its ambitions, but I do think less would have been more.

In Clifford’s Spiral a stroke survivor tries to piece together the fragments of his memories. Was he the victim or the perpetrator? 2020 IPA Distinguished Favorite in Literary Fiction.

 

Thinking About Thinking #11: A Small Town in Germany – Historical fiction is all about today

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Here’s my book review of A Small Town in Germany by John le Carré. Written decades ago by the recently deceased author, its plot has chilling parallels to today’s news.

A Small Town in Germany is one of le Carré’s first novels, written not long after he left the employ of the British Foreign Service in 1964. One of his first postings was in Bonn, the postwar capital city of West Germany, and the small town of the title. In the past, I’ve been effusive in my praise for le Carré’s writing style. My one criticism of this book is its occasionally strained efforts at poetic imagery. At times in his later career, the novelist’s prose has been to spare. But in this early work, he’s reaching for colorful analogies. The results too often come across as overwritten:

No dawn is ever wholly ominous. The earth is too much its own master; the cries, the colors, and the sense too confident to sustain our grim foreboding.

The fictional premise is that Dr. Klaus Karfeld, a crowd-pleasing politician, is rising to power on a wave of renewed German nationalism. A younger generation resents economic malaise and their parents’ having lost the war. Karfeld promises to break off ties with the Common Market, predecessor of the European Union, and pursue a new alliance with Russia.

The principal characters in the story are diplomats stationed at the British embassy, who are bewildered and threatened by the impending power shifts, including possible retaliation against the English occupiers. Most worrisome to these Brits, one of their employees, Leo Harting, a Polish-born German, has gone missing. Apparently, he took some secret files. They worry that the information in these files might not only embarrass the Queen’s government, but also help Karfeld in his rise to power and repudiation of NATO.

Welshman Alan Turner, an undercover operative, is summoned on an official mission to find the missing man and the stolen files. Turner has all the skills, along with the surly and irreverent personality of the classic noir detective. (As far as I know, he doesn’t reappear in any of the other le Carré novels.)

Turner runs afoul of almost everyone at the embassy, especially when he learns that, far from being a spy, Harting was hunting war criminals. He had uncovered Karfeld’s secret past as a Nazi scientist. Turner’s job changes from searching for a presumed defector to trying to prevent Karfeld’s goons from finding and then killing Harting.

The cynical Turner begins to realize that the Brits want the missing files, but not the man who took them. And most disturbing of all, they don’t want Karfeld’s crimes dredged up, even if it means Harting’s death. The Karfeld movement has gained too much popularity. The pragmatic diplomats are apparently ready to embrace the election’s expected winner even though they know he once supervised a laboratory that tested the homicidal effects of poison gas.

It was a coincidence that I picked this book up again recently. Perhaps you’ve guessed by now why I think this story resonates with today’s headlines.

In Clifford’s Spiral a stroke survivor tries to piece together the fragments of his memories. Was he the victim or the perpetrator? 2020 IPA Distinguished Favorite in Literary Fiction.

Thinking About Thinking #10: It’s not young love – What is it?

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Here’s my book review of Purgatory Gardens by Peter Lefcourt. This comic novel centers on a love triangle in a retirement community. If you don’t think that’s ridiculous in itself, you’d better develop a sense of humor about old age before it sneaks up on you.

Although this is a fur piece from Lefcourt’s first rodeo, he’s not quite ready to hang up his own spurs yet. In his previous books, the protagonists are typically male, and almost always misguided. I’ve said in print before that he’s a master of a genre I call boychik lit – wise stories about young men with more chutzpah than brains. And although his heroes have tended to be middle- rather than teenaged, these men are all charmingly hapless, clueless, feckless, and frustratingly clueless. Consider, for example, the narrator of another of his books, Eleven Karens. He’s a young man who ages too rapidly through eleven disappointing relationships, each with a different female name, Karen. Then there was the presumably more mature Senator Woody White in The Woody who has trouble with his, uh, drawers. My personal favorite has been the failing-ever-upward Hollywood producer Charlie Burns, who goes from failing to make a bad movie in The Deal to creating a truly horrific TV series about a family of terrorists in The Manhattan Beach Project.

This time out, Lefcourt’s protagonist is an older but hardly wiser, New Jersey wiseguy, Salvatore Didziocomo. He’s ratted out his boss, changed his name to Sammy Dee, and moved into a condo in Palm Springs, courtesy of the Feds. Lounging around the pool and hobnobbing at homeowner meetings, he gets partially aroused at the sight of the still-comely Marcy Gray, a fading Hollywood starlet who yet aspires to do any script Jane Fonda might turn down.

But clouding Sammy’s prospects for shining through is a tall, sophisticated African, one Didier Onyekachukwu. This charming fellow knows his fine wine and cuisine, dashing dance-floor moves, and art-curatorial arcana. And it doesn’t take such refined taste or imagination for him to judge that Ms. Gray is the hotter number in the Paradise Gardens complex, also known as “Purgatory” to the residents who are willing to acknowledge their own mortality. So here we have the ultimate in male-centered comic frustration – two old guys who think about sex as often as teenage boys do, with the same result. They might get laid if by some miracle the moon turns as blue as their nether parts.

And they fight over Marcy’s attention like two doofuses at a prom. I’ll end the spoilers here by simply letting on that Sammy reverts to form and puts out a contract on Didier. Oh, and to make matters even more interesting, the intended victim may be at least as ruthless. At one time, his import-export business involved more nefarious commodities than old knickknacks.

Again, if you fail to see the comedy in all this, perhaps you should take out a long-term care policy and get on with life. Enough said about the plots.

Besides his honored rep as a writer of funny books, Mr. Lefcourt’s career has also included writing and producing movies, television, and plays. His novel The Deal and his play Sweet Talk have already made it to the big and small screens. The rumor in town now is that The Dreyfus Affair, his comic novel about a gay baseball player, is in development. Please note that I predicted early on that Purgatory Gardens will follow suit. Think The Odd Couple meets Grace and Frankie – or, as Lefcourt fans will understand – CSI Desert Hot Springs.

In Clifford’s Spiral a stroke survivor tries to piece together the fragments of his memories. Was he the victim or the perpetrator? 2020 IPA Distinguished Favorite in Literary Fiction.

Thinking About Thinking #4 – The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey – What if you found new romance at the end of your life?

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I’m reposting this review because the limited TV series starring Samuel L. Jackson just came out on Apple TV! Watch it!

Walter Mosley is best known for his prolific detective fiction. But this book is a fond, thoughtful story about a man who finds reasons to live just when he doesn’t have much time left.

Here’s my book review.

The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey isn’t a whodunit. It’s artful, introspective literary fiction about a 91-year-old man near the end of his life.

Ptolemy Grey lives by himself in a shabby one-bedroom apartment in a poor neighborhood in Los Angeles. His place is stacked with the trash of a lifetime. You see, he hasn’t paid any attention to it since he woke up one morning to find his beloved last wife Sensia lying dead beside him.

When Sensia passed, he threw a tarp over everything in the bedroom and closed the door. He now sleeps on a mattress under a table in the kitchen. He rarely goes out, except when his grand-nephew Reggie walks him to the store for a few meager supplies. And he’s terrified to open the door for anyone.

The narrative is full of Ptolemy’s fretful thoughts. He has outlived almost all of his closest friends and loved ones. And early in this story, he finds that Reggie has been killed in a drive-by shooting.

Another nephew, Hilly, drops by to take him to Reggie’s wake. There Ptolemy meets Robyn, a gorgeous, slender girl who is about to turn eighteen. She decides to take care of him, becoming his last love, albeit platonic, but intense as any of the romances in his long life.

As Ptolemy says to her:  I love you and I couldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for you taking care of me. And if you were twenty years older and I fifty years less I’d ask you to be my wife and not a soul on this earth would have ever had better.

This may well be Walter Mosley’s best book.

In 2013 actor Samuel L. Jackson said in an interview with Red Carpet News TV that he had acquired the movie rights to Ptolemy Grey. Just released! Watch it!

In Clifford’s Spiral a stroke survivor tries to piece together the fragments of his memories. Was he the victim or the perpetrator? 2020 IPA Distinguished Favorite in Literary Fiction.

Thinking About Thinking #1 – The Sense of an Ending

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Is this a candid photo of author and show host Gerald Everett Jones? No. When I tried to grow a beard it never looked this good. This guy is probably about my age, though, and his is the mood I want to share with you – thinking about thinking. Thinking about writers and writing. Thinking about reading. And thinking on those thoughts and emotions that writing and reading stir in us.

So I’m starting a series of posts with my book reviews of literary fiction – the kind of stuff that, well, made me think.

My first suggestion is The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes. A few years ago, it won the Man Booker Prize. It was an inspiration for my own Clifford’s Spiral, which won Distinguished Favorite in the Independent Press Awards last year.

It’s about trying to make sense of what you remember about your life’s experiences.

You will either be fascinated by The Sense of an Ending, or it just might infuriate you.

Main character Tony Webster is middle-aged and reflecting back on his life. Just when he thinks he has it all sorted, he has to cope with troublesome consequences from choices he made as a young man. He has to face the possibility that he may have been responsible for his best friend’s death, and he may be the father of an illegitimate child.

The two people who know the facts are gone. The third isn’t talking, and her diary, which could have revealed everything, is probably lost.

Barnes shows us how Tony rewrites history so as to make himself the hero of his own story. Or, at the very least, justify his actions. And, so do all of us. Families, communities, and nations continually adjust the favorable light on their actions over time.

Why might you be infuriated? Because, bravely I think for an author, Barnes provides only the sense of an ending.

The following analysis won’t make any sense at all unless you’ve already read the book.

[So, quadruple spoiler alert!]

To recap, Tony was in love with Veronica and best friends with Adrian. Adrian married Veronica and then ended his own life. This much, Tony believes he knows. Adrian left a cryptic formula that may have been meant as a suicide note.

In terms of overt clues and Adrian’s equation, Adrian had an affair (perhaps not so brief, near the end of his life) with Veronica’s mother Sarah, who bore a child, also named Adrian, who was later sent (after Sarah’s death?) to a caregiver facility.

What nags at Tony at the end is that there are other possibilities that could fit the evidence better. Unless Veronica spills it, or the telltale diary is not burnt after all, Tony can never know for sure. In all scenarios he’s guilty, in some achingly more than in others.

The child could have been Veronica’s by Adrian or by Tony. The memory of a trip to the river seems to imply a night of unprotected, romantic sex. Sarah might have cared for the baby when Veronica couldn’t, or wouldn’t. Veronica’s pregnancy would have been when she and Adrian were newlyweds. He might have died thinking the baby was his. Or sure that it wasn’t. Or not sure at all and tormented by it.

Tony says the child (seen now as a young man) looks like the presumed father, his old friend Adrian. But did Tony look like Adrian? Is Tony looking into a mirror and denying the familiarity he sees? Is Tony’s remarking on the resemblance a clue to throw us off the track?

The child could have been Sarah’s by Tony. This strange possibility best explains: 1) Sarah’s bequest, 2) Veronica’s rage, and 3) Sarah’s enigmatic parting gesture to Tony, implying a secret they shared (that she’d seduced him during his visit). The fact that Tony has repressed the memory of the sex act (but not the washing up after) would seem totally implausible, except in the context of this book which is all about how our minds rewrite history to suit our opinion of ourselves.

You might well ask, “Huh?”

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“Must Read” Review of Clifford’s Spiral on Reedsy Discovery

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I want to thank Dorothyanne Brown for her Must Read rating with five stars and review of Clifford’s Spiral on the Reedsy Discovery book-fan website  @reedsydiscovery She’s not an acquaintance of mine (unlike some of my diligent beta reviewers), but no doubt from her observations she is a kindred soul. Her bio states that she is a retired nurse. She’s currently writing a fiction trilogy as well as a self-help book for people with multiple sclerosis and other brain conditions. I’m sure her insights on the clinical aspects informed her review of Clifford Klovis’s struggle to make sense of reality after he’s had a major stroke.

She also appreciated the humor in it. #booklovers #litfic #newrelease

Dorothyanne wonders:

Where would your mind go, if you were trapped after a stroke? Would you find happy memories? Regrets? Or philosophic meanderings?

And here’s her conclusion:

Despite Clifford’s grumpy uncooperative self, the reader can’t help but cheer for him, hope he will release his chosen silence, and be able to speak again. Clifford is so well-drawn, and his life stories capture the reader so completely that you forgive him his vanity and selfishness, and wish the book was longer so you could hang out with him longer. Highly recommended. You will want to read this more than once.

You can read the full review here on Reedsy Discovery.

If you like this review and the book please click the Upvote button at the top of the review to recommend Clifford’s Spiral to fans of literary fiction.

SYNOPSIS

Clifford’s Spiral is a quirkily comic literary novel. Its sardonic tone recalls the wry wisdom of Kurt Vonnegut, and its preoccupation with male centeredness is reminiscent of Philip Roth. Stroke survivor Clifford Klovis tries to piece together the colorful fragments of his memories. He fusses over his lifelong curiosities about astrophysics and metaphysics, Christian faith and New Age philosophy, and why the spiral shape appears in bathtub drains and at the centers of galaxies. He has imaginary conversations and arguments with wives and lovers, as well as with Hypatia of Alexandria, René Descartes, his old mentor Reverend Thurston, and Stephen Hawking. Clifford’s best teacher turns out to be his paraplegic son Jeremy, who has found his father’s old letters and journals. Jeremy also wonders: Who was Clifford Olmstead Klovis?

More books by Gerald Everett Jones.