My rating: 2 of 5 stars
History repeats itself at an estate high above the shores of Lake Garda, where a century ago, renowned playwright Galeazzo D’Ascanio wrote a drama, considered to be his masterpiece, expressly for his muse, actress Celia Sands. She disappeared without a trace on the eve of its opening, leaving him broken and bereft, and locals believe that she has haunted the estate ever since. Now his grandson, Alessandro, has endowed the property to a historic trust, and as a final tribute to Galeazzo, he plans to stage the play for the public before relinquishing the villa. For the leading lady, he has engaged a fledgling English actress, another Celia Sands, who with trepidation accepts the role and travels to Italy for rehearsals. At the villa, she is assigned the very same room once occupied by her namesake, whose portrait hangs above the bedstead. Celia’s nervousness about taking on her first starring role is exacerbated by tales about ghostly encounters, and the fact that two household staff members are missing adds to her uneasiness. When some unsettling incidents occur, she tries to chalk them up to imagination.
Season of Storms unfolds at a leisurely pace. It’s clear from the outset that events from the past will be mirrored in the present, so the book relies on characters and the process of staging a play as its center. Character development is uneven, however, and it’s unfortunate that Celia remains a reactor, passive and unsophisticated. Although she will come to feel real fear, the reader never does. Part mystery and part romance, both story lines fall a bit flat in spite of the spectacular Gothic setting in which they play out. What works somewhat better is the gradual reveal around modern Celia’s own family history, which is cleverly plotted and does come as a surprise
Susanna Kearsley’s books have been compared to those of Mary Stewart, which is fair, and I’m also reminded of Daphne DuMaurier (excepting the incomparable Rebecca).
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My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Richard Papen is chronically depressed, a loser in his own eyes. Penniless, he leaves his native California and his dismissive parents for Hampden College in New Hampshire, where he hopes to reinvent himself. Still very much a fish out of water, his knowledge of the language of ancient Greece eventually comes to the attention of the school’s elite, a group of five wealthy students who study all things Greek under the tutelage of distinguished scholar Julian Delgado. To Richard’s astonishment and delight, he’s invited into this exclusive coterie. Soon, as a result of the mythology and philosophy in which the students become immersed, one of the group will die at the hands of his fellows. This is the secret. As narrator, Richard’s job is to guide readers along on the journey that leads to murder and its inevitable tragic aftermath. This is the history.
The Secret History owes much to such classic forerunners as Crime and Punishment, Brideshead Revisited, and Lord of the Flies, as well as the body of Greek Mythology. To the credit of its author, however, this mystery cum coming of age tale is no mere derivative.
This is an accomplished first novel. Yes, it has its problems. The plot, though certainly compelling, is not complex enough to warrant nearly 600 pages, and it drags in places toward the middle. Readers who expect to “like” the characters will probably not like The Secret History; while they each possess a level of intellectual brilliance, morally they are bankrupt. Self-appointed elitists, the totality of their self absorption will ruin them all. Except for Richard, whose self-contempt paralyzes him to the point that he watches their actions as though watching a game or a movie. But Ms. Tartt is spot on in her portrayal of the 1980’s texture of life at a small town college during a snowy winter, well enough to invoke some nostalgia for my own college days. While revealing the secret in the prologue saps the story of suspense, knowing what will happen evokes a strong sense of dread that grows as the plot plays out, rather like watching a snake from a distance when you know it might strike. Rather like we do whenever any heinous act splashes itself across our television screens.
Fascinating work by a talented writer. Can’t believe I didn’t read it earlier.
Whether or not you believe that Richard III is a hero or a villain, it was a great discovery when his bones were discovered under a parking lot at the site of a long-gone medieval church. Having read quite a bit about Richard, I’ve come down on the side of those who believe that his reputation was systematically vilified by the Tudors. The Guardian.com has posted some brilliant photos of scenes from the March 22, 2015 procession to escort the coffin of Richard III from the University of Leicester to Leicester Cathedral, where it is currently on view and will be interred on March 25. This is not an official state ceremony, but one sponsored by the city and the Richard III Society. I believe that Richard deserves a king’s funeral and am pleased to see the pageantry that he was denied. May his remains at long last rest in peace.
Canadian-born carpenter Michael Ibsen, left, the King’s 17th great-grandnephew, places a rose on the oak coffin, which he had the honor to build. Photograph: Suzanne Plunkett/Reuters
Cortege leaves the University. Photograph: Andy Rain/EPA
Members of a re-enactment group await the ceremonial procession at Bosworth Battlefield Heritage Centre in Leicestershire. Photograph: Ben Stansall/AFP/Getty Images
Cadets wheel Richard III’s coffin on to the battefield at Bosworth. Photograph: Eddie Keogh/Reuters
A historical re-enactor of the Plantagenet era plays the drums prior to the battlefield gun salute. Photograph: Andrew Cowie/EPA
Members of the King’s Guard. Photograph: Peter Macdiarmid/Getty Images
Photograph: Andrew Cowie/EPA
White roses, one of Richard’s symbols as a Yorkist, on the bonnet of the hearse carrying Richard III’s coffin as it processes towards Leicester. Photograph: Darren Staples/Reuters
Richard III’s coffin processes on a gun carriage through Leicester on its way to the cathedral. Photograph: Suzanne Plunkett/Reuters
White roses lie at the foot of King Richard III’s statue outside the cathedral . His funeral on Thursday is taking place more than 500 years after his death Photograph: Andy Rain/EPA
Richard III’s coffin is draped in a specially-embroidered pall and adorned with a crown Photograph: Christopher Furlong/Getty Images
The crown which sits atop the coffin inside Leicester Cathedral Photograph: Andy Rain/EPA
If you’ve had the patience to scroll all the way through, here’s a little reward. Medieval English language specialist Dr. Philip Shaw reads from one of Richard’s own letters, to convey how he would likely have sounded when he spoke. Here’s a link to the audio clip, and here’s one to the text from which Dr. Shaw is reading. Interesting!
Discovery News reports that construction crews working at the site of a new London Tube station have uncovered thousands of skeletons and more than 10,000 artifacts during excavations. The building site is located within the precincts of the infamous Bedlam “Madhouse”, where the city’s first municipal cemetery was located and used from the 1560’s to 1738. Among the interments are Great Plague victims, and archaeologists are interested in studying the bones to learn more about the evolution of the strain that repeatedly struck London. It is expected to take at least a month to complete the disinterments, and plans are to rebury the bones at a cemetery outside city. It is anticipated that a Roman road will also be brought to light. The results of this investigation, once analyzed, promise to provide a fascinating look at life in one of London’s oldest neighborhoods.
The names of Connecticut’s 169 towns are mostly derived from Native American and English names. Pronunciation of some of them is regional, of course. Here’s a list of some of the irregular ones, as spoken by a lifelong resident.
Avon – Ayv-on
Barkhamsted – Bark-ham-stead
Berlin – BERlin (accent on 1st syllable)
Coventry – Cah-ven-tree
Danbury – Danberry
Durham – Durrum
—–ford – this ending is invariably pronounced ferd
Gilead – Gilly-ed
Greenwich – Grennitch
Groton – Grah-in (glottal stop)
Hebron – Hee-brun
Ledyard – Ledgerd
Mashamoquet state park – Mashmuckit
Meriden – Mare-ih-din
New Britain – Nu Brih-en (glottal stop)
Niantic – Nye-antic
Noank – No-ank with accent on No
Norfolk – Norfick
North Grosvenordale – North Grove-ner-dale
Norwich – Norrich
Pawcatuck – Paw-kit-uck with accent on Paw
Poquonnock – Poe-kwa-nick with accent on Poe
Quinebaug – Quinnabog
Quinnipiac – Quin-ah-pee-ack with accent on the Quin
Somers – Summers
Southington – Suthington (most other names containing South in them pronounce it like the direction)
Thames River – Just as it’s spelled. Long A. No temms here.
Tolland – Tahlend
Windham – Windum
Wolcott – Wool-kit
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
Funeral Music is the introductory volume to the Sara Selkirk Mysteries. Sara is a world renowned cellist who has lost her will to perform following the sudden death of her husband. But that is not the mystery in Funeral Music. Sara’s well meaning friend and accompanist, James, cajoles her into playing a charity concert at Bath’s famous Pump Room, after which she makes a horrifying discovery. Someone has stabbed to death the museum curator, dumping his corpse into the Roman baths, and Sara is the first to find him. He wasn’t a very popular or principled individual, and there are any number of possible suspects. The investigation falls to Sara’s cello pupil, DCI Andrew Poole. The plot thickens when Andrew falls for her, and when James becomes a suspect.
This is a simple enough plot with enough interest to permit its competition with the setting, the spectacular city of Bath. Each of the main suspects is given his or her own chapters, and it doesn’t become clear who did it until very close to the end. Along the way, a couple of imaginative yet believable alibis liven things up, but one of those alibis proves to be a cover. I was truly surprised when the murderer was finally revealed. Will Sara return to the concert stage? The answer to that question is left a bit unclear.
A genuine mystery, a cast of engaging (and not so engaging) characters, and an appealing protagonist make this book a quick and pleasant way to spend a few evenings.
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My rating: 4 of 5 stars
England, in the aftermath of The Great War. Few soldiers who fought in France returned unscathed, and Alastair Gellis and Matthew Ryder are no exceptions. Deeply affected by their experiences in the killing fields of France, they have decided to make a study of death and the afterlife by researching and writing about spirit manifestations. Their current case involves trying to rid the Falmouth House barn of its angry, often violent ghost, that of a servant girl, Maddy, who hanged herself there several years ago. Because of some girlhood trauma, Maddy cannot abide men, so Alastair arranges to hire a female assistant. Sarah Piper ekes out a living as an employee of a temp agency, so when she’s sent to interview with Alastair, she cannot resist the chance for a bit of adventure, not realizing that much more will be required of her than simple transcription.
Simone St. James’s description of Sarah’s first encounter with Maddy is atmospheric and chilling, and she spins out this tale in an effective Gothic style. The ghost hunting team quickly recognizes that, before they can hope to calm Maddy and send her on her way, they must ferret out the source of her terrible rage. Interestingly, each of the three comes to encounter her in very different ways, and by comparing their experiences, they begin to tease out the truth. The author enlivens the remote country village setting with good period detail and an array of very English characters, ranging from the new owner of the manor house to the suspicious inn keeper to the surly churchyard sexton. Having recently read, enjoyed, and reviewed Bellman and Black, in which crows play a prominent and symbolic role, it was pleasantly surprising to me to encounter crows in this book as well, fulfilling an even more active function. Maddy’s ghostly behaviors are anything but trite, and while Sarah’s budding romance (I won’t say with whom) could easily have detracted from the book’s central theme, it was well integrated into the plot as a whole. Alastair, Matthew, Sarah, and Maddy herself emerge from their brief but intense relationship quite changed.
The Haunting of Maddy Clare is an impressive debut novel. If it has an outstanding flaw, it is that some of the characters telegraphed their implication in Maddy’s mystery. But the overlying ghost story maintained its appeal, and readers who enjoy modern Gothic will probably enjoy this book.
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