The Golden Egg (Leon, 2013)

 Donna Leon. The Golden Egg (2013). The deaf-mute helper at the laundry that does Guido and Paola Brunetti’s dry-cleaning dies of apparent suicide. The necessary bureaucratic protocols fail to turn up any record of his existence. His mother gives conflicting and unverifiable accounts of their history. The neighbours, who know much of what actually happened, refuse to tell Brunetti what he needs to know. He eventually digs away the layers of  deception that victimised the man, but decides to withhold the final piece of the puzzle from the guilty person, because he cannot prove their guilt. But Brunetti knows that their plans will be thwarted when the evidence they believe will prove their claim to wealth will fail. The solution explains the title.

The casual corruption of Italian political and economic life is once again both backdrop and cause of the troubles and pains that these people suffer and inflict on each other. Leon’s great talent is imagining rounded characters: The walk-on parts are more than cardboard cutouts, and the main players are so fully imagined that we feel we would recognise them on the street.

Recommended. ****

Politics As Lived: The Life (Paikin, 2001)

Steve Paikin. The Life (2001) Paikin has interviewed many politicians. Most want to serve the public good; Paikin admires both that willingness and the more or less cheerful acceptance of the slings and arrows of outraged citizens’ complaints.

Paikin knows that there are villains, venal timeservers, vain seekers of applause and such, but those aren’t the subject of this book. What we get is an informal political history of the times when  these politicians served. Paikin interviewed the politicians and also the back-room players, commentators, pollsters and others that make their living in politics, and so gives us multiple points of view. David Lougheed, Alexa McDonough, Bob Rae, Frances Lankin, Brian Mulroney, Allan Gregg, are just a few of the people we meet.

Paikin avoids analysis and comment. He tells the stories of these people as completely as he can. The result is a very human story of Canadian politics.

Politics is an unavoidable and I think necessary part of our communal life. We are a social species; rank and status both create and control conflict. Managing that conflict is the function of politics. Democracy makes for a messier form of politics, where power becomes a means and not an end. Well, that’s the theory, and by their own accounts, supported by the testimony of the other players, the politicians profiled here do want power more for what they can do when they have it than for its own sake. Paikin’s book shows why, so far, Canada hasn’t suffered the rule of a tyrant.

His book also shows that democratic participation in government goes beyond voting,  that paying attention to what the politicos are up to is the only way to help them govern us.

A good book, recommended. ****

Dogsbody: There was one of the clan at every important (an unimportant) event in history.

 E. O. Parrott. The Dogsbody Papers (1988) The history of the Dogsbody clan from prehistoric time to the present, told through a variety of snips and bits. Parrott assembled them into this book. Written by several people, which makes for a variety of style and tone, and so prevents what could otherwise have declined into tedious repetition. They amount to a satire on history, on English exceptionalist assumptions, and on human foibles generally, mostly sex, money-grubbing and covering your ass. Very English absurdities, which I think limits the appeal, but I’m susceptible, so I enjoyed it. Not quite as surreal as Monty Python, but the same genre. Recommended. **** 

Age of Folly (Lapham, 2016)

Lewis H. Lapham.  Age of Folly (2016) Subtitled America Abandons Its Democracy. Published before Trump won the 2016 election, with essays from 1990 to 2015.

But depressingly relevant. And essential for making sense of what’s happened since 2016.

And I think that’s about all that needs to be said about this book. Recommended.

****

Footnote: In the Atlantic Magazine of January 2025, David Brooks has published an acute analysis of how the attempt to create a meritocracy has had unexpected consequences, one of them being the rage against elites that’s translated into the populism that elected Trump. Brooks spends a couple of pages explaining how the failed experiment could be transformed into a winning one, but I think he’s a tad naive politically. 

When Blood Lies (Richards, 2016)

 Linda L. Richards. When Blood Lies (2016) A nicely done puzzle that begins when Nicole Charles buys an old desk and finds some ancient wine in a secret compartment. There’s more: money-laundering, attempted murder, etc, and a handsome young man. Charles is a gossip columnist who wants to be promoted to real reporting; this provides a subplot that points to a series. I haven’t found any other of Richards’s books.

This book was on of an easy-reading series published by Orca Book Publishers. The style makes for a quick read. Good for when you haven’t much energy for close attention. **½

Leacock: Literary Lapses (1910)

Stephen Leacock. Literary Lapses (1910/1957) With an Afterword by Robertson Davies. Leacock’s first published work, displaying a range from nonsense to witty comment to slice of life to sharp satire. I think his reputation as the friendly, slyly comic uncle is superficial, based on his mastery of absurdly logical nonsense. Maybe it’s my curmudgeonly disposition, but I think that his satire is underrated. It’s delivered in the kind of deadpan style that disguises its bite, but his hatred for greed, hypocrisy, economic malfeasance and social cruelty is more than clear enough. I think that Sunshine Sketches and Arcadian Adventures are his greatest and most enduring works.

Davies provides an interesting account of the book’s publishing history. I enjoyed his notes on the range of Leacock’s humour.

I enjoyed this reread. This reissue is part of McClelland & Stewart’s New Canadian Library, now out of print. M&S featured Canadian art on the covers, David Milne’s “Billboards” here. Recommended. ** to **** 

Dick Whittington - What Really Happened (Sitwell, 1945)

 Osbert Sitwell. The True Story of Dick Whittington (1946) My great-aunt Dolly gave me this book in 1949. I wonder whether she read it first. The rhyme of Dick Whittington and his cat was one of our favourites, and she no doubt thought that this version would suit us. Sitwell has used the story to satirise the rise of the money economy and the worship of money. It’s not a children’s book, although an alert middle schooler would understand it well enough, and perhaps shape his economic and political attitudes accordingly.

Sitwell tells how Whittington advances in his career, selling arms to foreign nations so that they can liberate each other. The cat figures prominently in his first successes. He marries well, but his social-climbing wife finds the cat an inconvenient appendage to the household, especially after Dick is appointed Lord Mayor of London. She (sweetly) encourages Whittington to send the cat to a series of old cat homes, at ever greater distances from London. The cat finds its way back to its beloved master every time.

The story does not end happily. I can’t recall reading it in1949, but if I did, it must have had its intended effect, since I too deplore the monetising of every aspect of our economy. 

Recommended, if you can find a copy. Mine is missing the dust jacket shown in the illustration. Online offers range from at round $15 to well over $100. The few blurbs refer to the “charming” folktale, not Sitwell’s version. It seems few booksellers actually read what they sell. ****

When Things Go Bad (Saramago, The Live Of Things, 2012)

 Jose Saramago. The Lives of Things (2012) Saramago is a Nobel Prize winner. I have mixed feelings about the Nobel Prize for Literature. By its very nature it tends to reward translatable literature,  which usually means literature that’s heavy on theme and thesis and light on language and style.

Saramago wrote during the Salazar dictatorship in Portugal. His stories are fantasies; their ambiance and tone is claustrophobic, stifling. There’s a sense of a fate that can be neither evaded nor comprehended, only endured. The “things” are both actual objects that turn on their owners, and people that have become objects, lacking the autonomy that would make them free agents..

An oddly unengaging read for the most part. I don’t know if that’s the effect of translation. I suspect that in Portuguese there are allusions, puns, verbal effects etc that add nuance, scope, and satirical point, but which would be difficult to render in English. But another book that drew me in despite its flaws, which testifies to the power of theme. ***

Esther's Gift (Karon, 2002)

 Jan Karon. Esther’s Gift. (2002) A “gift book”, really a Christmas greeting card in hard covers. Esther has decided to forgo her annual gift of orange marmalade cakes. But when she muses about the recipients, she changes her mind.

Good for Jan Karon fans, a bit sticky-sweet for everybody else I think. Recipe included. **

Barrel Fever (Sedaris, 1994)

  David Sedaris.  Barrel Fever. (1994) A very mixed bag. In some of the stories, Sedaris comes across as the little boy that tries to shock his elders. But the elders are not shocked. Merely irritated by having a good story spoiled by affected naughtiness. Or if in a more kindly mood, perhaps amused that Sedaris feels that naughtiness is necessary to make his stories worth reading.

Many of the stories read like fictionalised memoirs. Staying true to background reality makes them involving in a personal way; Sedaris comes across as someone with a deep and charitable interest in his fellow human beings, but also with a sardonic awareness of their (our) self-delusions, and of the ways in which they (we) strive to keep our amour propre intact. That justifies the cover blurb describing him as “shrewd, wickedly funny...” despite its exaggeration.

His essays are better, I think. He is both outsider and insider, which adds flavour and spice to his observations about what are after all fairly ordinary slices of a fairly ordinary life. His ability to see what’s odd about the ordinary makes his writing both funny and valuable. It also reassures us that our own fairly ordinary lives are worth living after all. *** 

Fatal Remedies (Leon, 1999)

  Donna Leon. Fatal Remedies. (1999) Guido Brunetti’s wife Paola smashes the window of a travel agency said to sell sex-tours to more complaisant countries than Italy. Brunetti suppresses the report of the crime, but cannot of course escape its consequences. Oddly, the agency’s owner wants to compromise: if Paola apologises and pays for the window repairs, he will not press charges. A serious robbery takes Brunetti’s attention away from his wife’s legal problems. A witness to the robbery promises to give a deposition, but before he does so, his wife falls down the stairs in their apartment block. And so Brunetti embarks on another investigation of interlocking cases. The travel agency is a key element. Neither  Guido nor Paola fully achieve their goals, but they have tried. That's all they can do.

Leon shows us how the police proceed step by step to the solution, and how the their erratic work schedule and the revelations of human weaknesses and evil affect their personal lives. Politics and the endemic casual corruption  interfere with the investigation. Paola understands that their family is not insulated from these effects. But Paola and Guido consider each other as equals. It’s not a friction-free relationship, but it works.

I think Leon is one of the best crime-fiction writers of our time. ****

Kinsey And Me (Grafton, 2013)

Sue Grafton. Kinsey and Me. (2013) A re-read. I enjoyed the stories perhaps more this time, since I knew them well enough to suss the solution, and so could enjoy watching Grafton drop the clues and lead up to the final twist.

The second half of the book is tough reading. It’s  a series of short stories and sketches that amount to a (fictionalised) memoir of Grafton’s mother (“Vanessa”) and her relationship with her daughter (“Kit”). They inflicted pain on each other, unintentionally, but effectively. Each needed the love of the other, each tried and failed to do it well. Vanessa’s alcoholism barred the path to the easy companionship they both wanted. Grafton herself says she “learned the secrets of the human heart” from her mother. One secret is that we fear we do not deserve each other’s love. But love is not about deserving.

Recommended. ** to ****

Poetic Justice: R is For Ricochet (Grafton 2004)

Sue Grafton. R Is For Ricochet. (2004) Nord Lafferty, rich and used to getting his way, hires Kinsey to look after his daughter Reba when she’s paroled. At first, Reba is apparently willing to live a reformed life. She had been convicted of embezzlement. The money was never recovered, which makes her a target not only of the law, but of her old associates. It takes her a while to realise she’s been played, whereupon she engineers a suitable retribution. Miscellaneous mayhem and murder, betrayals, and deceptions that even Kinsey believes for a while, and assorted misinterpretations and shenanigans make for a well done puzzle and ultimately a kind of justice, albeit not legality. Reba is a criminal, and pays for her crimes, but she’s also Nemesis for the crooks that betrayed her. Grafton disapproves of crime, but disapproves of injustice even more.

Recommended. ****

The Ferguson Affair (MacDonald, 1960)

 Ross Macdonald. The Ferguson Affair (1960) Lawyer Bill Gunnarson believes his client Ella Barker is innocent. An unlikely P.I., he starts digging, and turns up the usual corruption, ancient secrets, double crossings, dysfunctional families, and impossible dreams that characterise MacDonald’s world. The McGuffin is a stolen diamond, which his client received as a gift. The police believe otherwise, and charge her with theft.  Murders ensue.

Published in 1960, but it reads like an early novel. There aren’t many of the edgy metaphors that make the Lew Archer novels such a pleasure to read. But MacDonald as always raises uncomfortable questions about the difference between legality and justice, and about the desperation of people trapped in situations where the only options are bad ones. The line between perpetrator and victim is sometimes blurred.

Still, I enjoyed the book. Gunnarson’s willingness to risk reputation and life in his quest for truth and justice makes him another knight in rusty armour. Recommended ***

Speer's Prison Years (The Secret Diaries, 1976)

 Albert Speer. Spandau: The Secret Diaries (1976) The diaries were secret in that it was forbidden to send out more than one letter a month. But friendly guards helped Speer smuggle his diaries out. He selected and edited his notes, and this book is the result.

It’s surprisingly compulsive reading. The revelation of the man’s character is what kept me turning the pages. I’d recently watched The Rise of the Nazis documentary series. The historian who discussed Speer pointed out that he had carefully doctored the record of his work as war production manager for the Reich. I’m not sure to what extent these diaries continue the attempted deception. In the early years, Speer repeatedly muses about how he was enthralled by Hitler’s architectural ambitions. Later, he castigated himself for admiring what he now sees as grandiose kitsch (a word he does not use), and refers to how his responsibility for war materiel production has burdened him with guilt.

He also discusses architecture, and his hope that he could reestablish an architectural practice on release. He confesses to a taste for traditional styles, and wonders how he might fit into the modern fashions. As the years pass, the hope of early release fades in the face of Soviet intransigence, his musings about a possible professional future fade also.

The most genuine sounding passages are his sorrow that he’s missing the growth and development of his children, and the inevitable failure to establish a close parent-child bond. There aren’t enough visits and letters. It's clear that his family have made the best of their situation, and their father figures less and less in their lives.

An essential book for anyone who wants to understand the 3rd Reich. The desire to build huge monuments seems to be a universal trait of tyrants. ***

Canadian Pie (Ferguson, 2011)

Will Ferguson. Canadian Pie (2011) Ferguson has made a decent living writing for hire. Here we have a collection of his mostly commissioned pieces.. They vary in quality, probably because the assignments varied in their appeal for Ferguson. He writes very pleasant light humour, with an irritating habit of doubling the punch line to make sure the casual airline magazine reader gets it. He’s best at satire and personal anecdote.

All in all, I enjoyed the book; I guess I read it casually. A highlight is As the Irvings Turn: A Maritime Soap Opera. It ran on CBC Moncton, but it seems the Irvings were not amused, as the last episode never aired. The opener, The Lost Art of Crank Calls, is one of the best pieces in the book. The examples are clearly based on personal participation.

A good book to have on hand for the times when you have a few minutes of time you’d rather not spend with your gloomy thoughts about the state of the universe. **½ to ****

Uniform Justice (Leon, 2003)

 Dona Leon. Uniform Justice (2003) A murder at a private “military academy” leads Brunetti into discovering corrupt politics, ruthless power seeking, and conspiracy to pervert the course of justice. The perpetrator(s) will never face justice. Brunetti finds them out, but knowing how a good man was punished for his unwillingness to play the power game sours his success.

Another in the Commissario Brunetti series, darker than previous ones I've read in its depiction of the moral filth in which political corruption grows. Recommended, but not a happy read. **** 

The Cat Wears A Noose (Hitchens as Olsen 1944)

Dolores Hitchens (originally published by "D. B. Olsen"). The Cat Wears A Noose. (1944) Hitchens wrote a lot of books, mostly mysteries, under various pseudonyms and in several series. This one (#4 in the Rachel Murdock series) begins with Rachel’s sister witnessing a murder on her way home from a church meeting, but she doesn’t tell Rachel. Rachel meets one of the household who enlists her aid in finding out what really happened. She offers her services as cook, which enables her to find the clues she needs. Family secrets, money, and tangled, unacknowledged  relationships make for a good puzzle. The cat is a wanderer. Following her, Rachel chances on a couple of the crucial clues. Hitchens is a bit weak on character and ambience, but the book is pleasant read.

The online info on Hitchens indicates she must have made a decent living writing these novels, some of which were made into movies or TV episodes. I enjoyed it. **½

The Sentinel (A. C. Clarke, 1983)

 Arthur C. Clarke. The Sentinel. (1983) Collection of short stories, including the one that sparked 2001: A Space Odyssey. Clarke provides an intro to each piece, telling about the circumstances of composition and publication. These are interesting in a tabloidy way, but add nothing to the stories. Clarke is very good at imagining technical problems and their effects. He’s careful to keep extrapolation as close to known science as possible. His characters tend to be 2.5D or flatter. Like pretty well everybody at the time, he assumes the geopolitical realities of the Cold War would continue into the relatively far future.

But his tight focus on the tale keeps us reading. He’s good at advancing plot with dialogue. His early work was published in the SciFi pulps, whose editors wanted a high narrative-to-words ratio. The resulting conciseness hides flaws that longer works would have revealed.

A good collection. Essential for the fan, and likely a pleasant diversion for anyone else.

** to ***

:Pictures of the Past: 1920s, 1930s, 1940s (Yapp, 1998)

 Nick Yapp. Getty Image 1920s, ... 1930s, ... 1940s (1998). Three lively collections of photographs illustrating the lives of our ancestors. The illustrated papers and magazines that provided the images tended to publish the unusual and dramatic (see the 1940s cover), so Yapp must have had a difficult time finding the ones that showed ordinary lives. The photos of political and other significant events are mostly well known. The others provide most of the charm. It’s an odd feeling to experience nostalgia for a world I didn’t actually know (the late 1940s excepted). But that’s what happened. I will likely look at these books again. ***