The Daughter of Time - Josephine Tey

The Daughter of Time was the first required reading for my medieval history course (HSTAM 235: Medieval Mysteries), and I found it completely delightful. The protagonist of this work is an English police officer who was injured on the job and is laid up resting at a small hospital. A highly perceptive detective with a wry wit, Scotland Yard Inspector Alan Grant is unused to boredom and inactivity, and struggles immensely with the tedium of convalescence. That is, until his vivacious actress friend brings him a folio of paintings of faces. Grant's intuitive ability to read criminals' faces snags on one mysterious portrait - a suffering, noble face Grant is dismayed to learn is that of the barbaric Richard III. His curiosity deeply piqued, Grant teams up with a charmingly oafish young history buff to unravel the mystery of the murder of the princes in the tower. Fascinating analysis with a surprising conclusion. (And a bonus reference to our illustrious ancestor, Sir Robert Brackenbury.) Delicious language enhances this very enjoyable thriller.

Journey to the Hangman

This was another good Bony mystery, with a very eccentric strong character, Melody Sam.  Not really a spoiler, but a hint at a spoiler:  the plot is a little reminiscent of Hound of the Baskervilles.  And, as the book cover suggests, Bony's skill as a tracker is key to the solution of the last of three seemingly unrelated murders in a remote Western Australia town, founded, owned, mayored and bartended by the intermittently musical and binging Melody Sam.  Quick and enjoyable read!

Madman's Bend

Madman's Bend is another enjoyable Bony mystery by Arthur Upfield.  The very best of these include three strong elements:  an interesting mystery that Bony solves through incisive reasoning and patient, methodical investigation - often employing exceptional observational and tracking skills he both inherited and learned from the aboriginal side of his family; a very sympathetic heroine or a very eccentric male character; and vivid and engaging descriptions of intriguing features of the Australian Outback. This story has all these elements, but not as effectively as in some of the other stories. At the outset of the story, the major suspect in the murder of her stepfather and the love interest of the story is Jill, an admirable and sympathetic young woman:

"Then what will you do?  What shall I do?" 

"I shall go on meanderingly looking for facts.  You will stay here at Mira, be patient, be grateful for the kindness extended by Mrs. Cosgrove, and the love given you by her son.  And now we may admit to beliefs.  You may believe that every cloud has a silver lining, and I may believe that the disappearance of William Lush will one day be cleared up.  Smile, Jill, just a little." 

Jill looked at him with misty eyes, and, instead of smiling, burst into sobbing.

Jill is featured early on,  but appears less frequently as the story develops, removing a strong emotional force that could have provided balance to the rough life and men, and the unyielding terrain. 

The mystery itself is solved logically, but there are no startling clues or very unexpected developments, so Madman's Bend lacks the spark of some other Bony stories.  The natural phenomenon that elevates this story, however, is the serious flooding resulting from the funneling of distant, heavy rainfall into a restricted area that is the setting for the mystery.   The imminent threat that this flooding will cover the ground and destroy the evidence provides much of the tension in the story, but the descriptions of the river when calm and, later, as a powerful torrent of debris provide some lovely poetry:

"....and the river I had heard rapturously described was barely running in a ditch, and I loathed it so much I wouldn't look at it for a year." 

"Then the river made itself heard." 

"Yes, how did you know?" 

"It has a voice, a little voice to whisper to you, a mighty voice to shout at you." 

Mrs. Cosgrove halted and turned to regard Bony with quizzing eyes.  She said, "You spoke of poets, remember.  You could be one yourself.  Yes, I heard the river shouting at me and I hated it.  The wild westerlies would blow when the world was filled with the shouting of the trees.  My husband then had a fast motor-boat, and one evening he induced me to go with him up the river.  The day had been hot, and the evening was cool, and when he turned the boat round to come home he stopped the engine, and we just drifted with the current.  It was then I first heard the whispering:  the bird calls, the fish plopping, the other tiny sounds you'd never hear in the broad day.  That evening my husband and I were truly joined in spirit."

Inside the O'Briens

Lisa Genova is a neuroscientist and author who has been creating books that illustrate different neurological disorders through novels that feature the effects of the diseases on her characters.  Still Alice, her account of Alzheimer's, was highly acclaimed.  Inside the O'Briens shows the devastating effects of Huntington's Disease (HD) on Joe O'Brien, a tough but very likable Boston cop, and his family.
Although many readers (including me) will begin to read this book as a case study of HD, Genova has a particularly nice ear for dialog and local lingo and she tells an excellent story.  Many parts of the book are funny or heartwarming and some, of course, are heart-rending.
Even if HD holds no special interest for you, one key plot issue (culminating in a gripping conclusion) is the 50-50 chance that a child of an HD patient has of inheriting the disease.  Because HD is late onset, generally appearing only when a person is 40-50, the uncertainty of whether and when you will begin experiencing neurological symptoms is itself unnerving, even before any disease onset - this is powerfully depicted. There has been a genetic test for HD since the 1990's, but many at-risk people choose to live without taking the test.  The all-or-nothing, 50-50 chance seems to throw into sharp contrast both the uncertainty of fate and the impossibility humans seem to have in evaluating how to make decisions in the absence of conclusive information.  Very worthwhile read.

Wolf Hall

The fascinating and captivating first book of the Cromwell Trilogy, by Hilary Mantel.  Cromwell rises from low birth to influence, first as right-hand man of the powerful Cardinal Wolsey, then as advisor to Henry VIII.  Wolf Hall deals with Cromwell's successful efforts to help Henry arrange his marriages in attempts to assure an heir, and in his quest to gain control over the Church.  The latter struggle highlights Cromwell's rivalry and differences with Thomas More.

The character of Cromwell is intriguing:

Thomas Cromwell is now a little over forty years old....It is said he knows by heart the entire New Testament in Latin, and so as a servant of the cardinal is apt - ready with a text if abbots flounder.  He speech is low and rapid, his manner assured; he is at home in a courtroom or waterfront, bishop's palace or inn yard.  He can draft a contract, train a falcon, draw a map, stop a street fight, furnish a home and fix a jury.  He will quote you a nice point in the old authors, from Plato to Plautus and back again.  He knows new poetry and can say it in Italian.  He works all hours, first up and last to bed.  He makes money and he spends it.  He will take a bet on anything.

There are keen observations, as in this description of Anne Boleyn:

Her eyes passed over him on their way to someone who interested her more.  They are black eyes, slightly protuberant, shiny like the beads of an abacus: they are shiny and always in motion, as she makes calculations of her own advantage.

And the book is frequently laugh out loud funny. Here's Wolsey's description of Cromwell:

And he will have to take you as you are, which is rather like one of those square-shaped fighting dogs that low men tow around on ropes. Not that you are without a fitful charm, Tom.

Of interest to us, here's a comment on our (possible) ancestor:

The Londoners say - and he reckons the Londoners know - that it was on Howard's watch that the princes were last seen; though Thomas More thinks it was Constable Brakenbury who handed the keys to the killers.  Brakenbury died at Bosworth; he can't come out of his grave and complain.

In short, highly recommended!  Thanks to Karen Elizabeth for giving me this can't-put-it-down read!

I couldn't put Wolf Hall down, really, so when I reached the end, I immediately replaced it with the second in the intended trilogy, Bring Up the Bodies - the equally absorbing continuation of the story of Thomas Cromwell. Again, fascinating portrayals of power, ambition, lust and intrigue. Hilarious in brief spots, everywhere thoughtful, and sharp insights into human interactions.  Now I'm going to Google to see when the final volume is due!

Galileo's Daughter

I particularly enjoyed Dava Sobel's previous book, Longitude, and have been very interested in Galileo (see Galileo's Dream), so it was an unexpected delight to find that back in 1999 Sobel had written this dual portrait of Galileo and his saintly oldest daughter, Virginia.

Virginia and her younger sister and brother were all born out of wedlock.  Because they were neither high born nor wealthy, Galileo could not arrange favorable marriages for his daughters and decided that the best chance they would have in life was to be entered into a convent - which, with help from highly placed patrons of Galileo, occurred before they were actually old enough to become Sisters.  The younger daughter, furious at her father and possibly having unrelated problems, subsequently had very little to do with Galileo.  In contrast, Virginia - later Suor Maria Celeste - was devoted to him, praying always on his behalf, preparing special treats and medicines for him, sewing his collars - and writing heartfelt letters to him.  Galileo described her to a friend as "a woman of exquisite mind, singular goodness, and most tenderly attached to me".  He kept all of her letters - approximately 120 - Sobel translated these and used them as a framework for much of the story of Galileo's life.   Sadly, none of Galileo's letters to Suor Maria Celeste have survived.

The book effectively describes Galileo's radically new approach to understanding the world  - that is, carrying out quantitative experiments and formulating the findings into laws rather than arguing from "first principles".  For this reason alone, he was vilified by adherents of Aristotle, "philosophers" who were accorded higher status and higher pay than mere "mathematicians" or "astronomers".   (Though astronomers, including Galileo, were frequently called upon by the aristocracy to create astrological forecasts).  One striking example of Galileo's experimental genius was illustrated by the astronomical discoveries he made with the telescope.  Galileo did not invent the telescope - but, having heard of it, or perhaps seen one, he carried out systematic experiments to determine the optimum shape and spacing of lenses.  This allowed him to construct telescopes with higher magnification and resolving power than anyone else.  With these, he famously discovered sunspots and how they illustrated the rotation of the sun, the phases of Venus, and the moons of Jupiter -all undermining the Aristotelian view of the celestial spheres as perfect objects that could not be flawed in any way - and also supporting the views of Copernicus, which later caused so much trouble for Galileo.

Interestingly, Galileo was a devout Catholic and believed there could be no real discrepancy between Catholic belief and the Copernican world view his discoveries supported.  He believed that God spoke to man in two ways, for one purpose.  The purpose was to induce men to believe and act properly so that they could enter the Kingdom of Heaven.  The two ways were scripture and the physical reality of the universe.  Scripture need not always be precisely consistent with physical reality, because its primary purpose was to guide people towards the holy light - and some simplification could aid this purpose.  But the physical world, also created by God, must necessarily be consistent with God's message to humanity.  Galileo hoped and urged his ecclesiastical friends to adopt this view - he felt that the Copernican view was certainly correct and that if the church declared it as heresy, the church would suffer when further experiments proved it to be true.  Pope Urban and others, however, believed scripture was paramount and to claim the universe to be other than described by scripture was heresy - and punishable.

In addition to his astonishing brilliance as a scientist, Galileo is shown in the book to be a practiced flatterer, adept at political intrigue, an outstanding prose stylist and....a doting and devoted father to Suor Maria Celeste.  I enjoyed this book immensely.

Game of Thrones: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R.R. Martin

For the past several years, Mark and I have enjoyed watching the HBO series Game of Thrones. Mark had read all of Martin's books up to the time of the TV series premiere, but I never had. Everyone says how great the books are, so I finally decided to give the first book a try. I loved it so much I tore through all 800 pages and am already a third of the way through book 2!

Martin's prose is relatively simple and straightforward, but his world is vividly portrayed in all 5 senses and his realistic character depictions make the courtly intrigues and ancient mysteries come alive brilliantly. One of my favorite characters is Lord Tyrion, a little person and son of the powerful house of Lannister. In a world where warriors rule and a disabled man is worth less than a woman, Tyrion uses his wits and humor to remain relevant and preserve his dignity in a society that has derisively termed him "the Imp." Fond of drink and whores, Tyrion is nevertheless the source of many of the book's words of wisdom. He gives several valuable pieces of advice to Jon Snow, the bastard son of powerful Lord Stark, who holds a similarly low place in their world's hierarchy. One such quote is when Tyrion explains his love of reading by saying that "a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge.”

Martin famously kills off nearly every major character (and many minor ones), and it is a strong storyteller indeed who can hold the reader's interest in the events of the world, not just in specific people.

Very exciting and more food for thought than in your usual "light reading."