A Little Wobble on a Rainy Day; and PROUD SORROWS by James R. Benn

It's raining ... again. A quick look at online records suggests that in Vermont, in August, you have a 50/50 chance of rain on any given day. But it feels this year like the rainclouds slip around on a fairground track, headed back toward us the moment we think they're gone.

That's good for anything I've transplanted this month, since the roots are being steadily wetted down. On the other hand, I've started resorting to the dryer to get my towels back to useful status, instead of hanging them on the porch. We'll remember this wet and often flooded summer, as we look back on it.

Speaking of looking back -- well, isn't that one of the functions of historical fiction? For the hours that I am "inside" a well-spun story, I'm no longer comparing then and now, but I'm experiencing a different time altogether.

The Billy Boyle World War II Mystery series presents its 18th title next week (Sept 5, Soho Crime imprint of Soho Press): PROUD SORROWS, by James R. Benn. The title comes from a Shakespeare couplet in the play King John, referring to the force of grief. In November 1944 in Britain, surely everyone had a reason to grieve: The war hadn't destroyed Britain, Germany hadn't defeated the proud island nation, but death, crippling injuries, and residual trauma affected all.

Benn's first chapter swiftly reveals all the English village characters who'll have potent roles in the murder investigation ahead of Billy Boyle and his colleagues. Poor Billy! He's supposed to be taking a long-overdue break at the country home of his girlfriend Diana's father -- it's damp and chilly, a classic English November, but he comments, "I shouldn't complain. I was dry and no one was shooting at me."

Trust a big dinner group to show the cracks in family and friendships, though. Soon enough, Billy's worrying about the tensions that surround him. Some vacation! Series readers know he grew up in a Boston "cop" family and landed in Europe as a criminal investigator working for one of General Eisenhower's teams. Benn, however, is a straightforward author who won't leave you guessing about that, and about Billy's skills, in case you're new to his books:

Curiosity is the curse of any decent cop, as my dad and Uncle Dan, both detectives with the Boston Police Department, had drummed that into my thick Irish skull on many occasions. Always wonder why things happen, they'd say. Figure things out, even little things.

Billy's not-a-vacation-after-all involves a retrieved German bomber, some local feuding, injured and missing persons, and eventually the discovery of a murder. Will the little things help solve the crime? Trust Billy to see what's not obvious, even when looking at a ransacked home: "When a house has been gone through so thoroughly, it's usually because the object in question wasn't found."

A good part of the pleasure of Benn's Billy Boyle books is discovering what quirky, politically forceful, and culturally mystifying historical forces this author has unearthed in his march through the years of World War II. This time, the focus is on the Ritchie Boys and on right-wing politics. Benn provides a fascinating set of notes at the end. As usual, what cracks the case will be what Billy and his allies pull together, in this case about Nazi prisoners of war, but also about the land and nearby ocean. 

PROUD SORROWS offers an exhilarating and often emotional adventure, with hints at what lies ahead for the series in its inevitable movement toward the final year of the war. Now I think about it, re-reading this well-told mystery is just perfect for another Vermont rainy day. Time to make a cup of tea and tip back into the armchair.

Slow Horses, Dark Discoveries: THE SECRET HOURS, Mick Herron (Sept. 2023)

My favorite characters from the Slough House/Slow Horses series are River Cartwright and Catherine Standish. I identify with each of them for a different set of reasons. (No, I am not going to whine about my father or my past here! I do that in memoir pieces, here.) And I can't stand Roddy Ho, with his endless primping and overweening self-esteem.

But the ones that obsess me are Jackson Lamb, Molly Doran, and Diana Taverner. Why? Because I'd love to have learned from each of them, and I wish I were as brave or as smart, and I know that I'm not. As a small child, when I began to realize that my parents kept secrets from me, I hoped with a deep unholy thrill that one of them was my identity as a Genius. By ninth grade, I knew that wasn't on the map. In the Slow Horses/Slough House series, though, each of these three has special incisive mind and, as a result, a degree of power that I'd now hate to have in my hands. The books let me peek into the inner selves of these characters, though, and there's a marvelous illicit thrill to that past-the-curtain view.

Hence the absorbing, impelling fascination of Mick Herron's 2023 offering, THE SECRET HOURS. Breaking the tradition of the reader knowing the sneaky secrets, this London/Berlin espionage novel offers a kaleidoscope of work names, job positions ("First Desk" at MI5), and hidden motivations as if the story unfolded in a very foggy neighborhood where any sighting of a spy on the sidewalk ahead could actually be the local bartender lost outside his terrain—and vice versa. 

Because the narrative involves so many hidden identities—some for the sake of anonymity among espionage professionals, some for political manipulation, some due to multiple identities either on British soil and foreign, or while publicly appearing "kind and wise" and secretly shown as manipulative and wicked— THE SECRET HOURS offers a shadow dance at first. Naive young "spooks" experience real life; political hostages slowly notice their bondage. Series readers will get the most from this novel, as they'll be alert for signs of which First Desk is hiding in the shadows, who could be a traitor, and small character traits long since revealed among the so-called slow horses. As one mask after another is lifted, the masquerade turns deadly. Yet, of course, this is Mick Herron writing, so deadly is also simultaneously funny and heartbreaking.

There are also delicious asides into evocative description, slipping in mention of the book's title phrase: "Even when apparently peaceful the [MI5/MI6] hub is alert for disturbance, whether in the world at large, on the streets of the safeguarded cities, or at the next work station along, because—as the whispered mantra has it—You never know. You never know when treachery might strike, or from what quarter. This is true whatever the time, but especially true after dark, since how we act in the light of  day is largely for other people's benefit, but what we do in the secret hours reveals who we really are."

Or the revelations of character in the face of rude awakening: "There was a big rip down the centre of everything now. It wasn't fair, she absurdly thought; wasn't fair that people should expose the violent terrors history held, and expect you to know how to respond." 

In the deliciously balanced double time spans of the book, the same character in another era will reflect: "The events she is recalling took place years ago, decades ago, but there is no statue of limitations on remembered damage, if that is what this is. And how can it be anything else? Happiness takes on a different shade in the light of  its consequences."

Don't let the "literary" phrasings mislead you -- this is also a book of fistfights, kidnapping, death threats, and some murder-for-politics. The difference is, in Mick Herron's hands, the questions asked by the ordinary people doing the footwork really matter. And ache. (And sometimes make you snort with an unexpected laugh.)

I often tell people to plunge into a book without worrying about whether they've read earlier work in a series. And you can do that with THE SECRET HOURS, of course. But if you do, then dip into some of the earlier Mick Herron books and come back to this for a second read. Then you, too, will double your time periods of engagement, and perhaps see, and feel, the movement of the world more clearly.

Release date from Soho Crime, an imprint of Soho Press: Sept. 12, 2023.

 

A Last Round of Summer Reading: Book Recommendations

I've recently taken photos of leaves turning red and yellow and landing lightly on the back roads or new-mown grass. It's still summer here in Vermont, where mowing the lawn with the walk-behind mower means working up a good sweat, but the cool evenings glitter with shifting constellations. Orion will rise in a few more weeks, and we'll start worrying about frost.

One of the unexpectedly moving crime novels on my summer reading stack has been WHERE THE DEAD SLEEP by Joshua Moehling (Poisoned Pen Press). This is his second book and takes a deeper look into the life of Sheriff Packard, introduced in And There He Kept Her. Significantly, it opens with an "inconsolable" three-legged dog whose nightly share of Packard's bed was taken by a visiting lover. Within a few paragraphs, it's already clear that Packard isn't handling his personal life well, while trying to be a small town's first gay (acting) sheriff. This personal confusion inevitably interferes in his crimesolving, and in his insight into why a local gambler turns up murdered in a home invasion.

Moehling is a gifted storyteller who sets up situations that clarify how greed, anger, and frustrated love can all become motives for crime. Packard's strengths depend on his ability to enlist loyalty and honesty from people who may not readily offer them. He also captures a twist of information and character in a few well chosen words, as in this fragment of a poker game: "When the river card turned, Jim raised and Richard folded. Alan shuffled his chips, then finally called. Jim took the hand with a three of a kind. Alan tossed his cards, showing a low pair." Minutes later, Packard will clear the high-stakes table with a haul of $75,000 that he can't accept, but that buys him enough respect to get some of the truth of the crime at last.

This book interfered seriously with my work plans. I wish you the same experience.

Also in the August heap has been EVERGREEN, the second crime novel of Japanese internment and anti-Asian prejudice surrounding World War II, by Naomi Hirahara and published by Soho Crime, imprint of Soho Press. I wasn't a huge fan of Hirahara's first, Clark and Division, finding it a bit too stilted (tasting like a translation despite the California birth and life of the author) and without a lot of character. 

To my delight, I found Evergreen smoothly written, intriguing, with strong development of determined Aki Ito and her struggles with both family and the unwelcoming nation, and with a complex strand of crimes involving both the plight of "second-class citizens" and the postwar new growth of America. Here's one of the polished turning points as an example:

The next meeting was going to be held in the Japanese-operated flower market on Wall Street in a few weeks.

"It's going to take time, Pop," I said.

"Those son-of-a-bitches," my father cursed. "They are not going to get away with it."

I sat quietly in the passenger seat, clutching my pocketbook. I knew that he wasn't just talking about the produce market. I couldn't bear to say out loud what I felt: Pop, they already have.

You'll want this one for any collection that circles World War II and the aftermath, or hate crimes, or American history, as well as Japanese culture and well-plotted urban crime fiction.

Later this evening I'll be working on my new memoir segment at Medium; I really enjoyed sharing some writing tips with other authors on the platform last weekend, using my extensive reviewing background to point to what makes a strong piece of writing and offering tried-and-true tips to get there. Every day, I'm aiming to deepen my own writing; it gets easier to make time after Vermont's first serious frost arrives, but until then, I've got a yard and garden to tend, as well.

The Writer, the Page, the Reader: A Magical Triangle

If you were a shy kid in elementary school, you will see entirely different things in a poem than your neighbor will, who arrived in first grade with friends from the neighborhood.

If the first time you made love was with the person you married, romance as a thread in the mystery you're reading may feel familiar and make you chuckle; when you've just concluded an acrimonious divorce, you might skip over those pages.

That's why I think of a piece of writing as one point on a triangle; the other two are who I am, and who you are. Good writing leaves room for the triangle to spin in different directions, expand, make a fresh angle, and rise into a second dimension. Yet the triangle, the bond between story and reader, must remain resilient and still touch all three anchors.

On August 12 at 5 pm (Eastern time), I'll bare my reviewer "chops" on Medium.com and offer a tips session for writers of haiku to short story to novel -- even applicable to nonfiction feature articles. There'll be some time for questions and answers, maybe even controversy.

Please do stop in and check it out! Scan the offerings for Medium Day and register here.

Meanwhile, a couple of sites with intriguing material on "endings":

https://www.masterclass.com/articles/how-to-write-the-perfect-ending-for-your-novel

https://www.emwelsh.com/blog/find-best-ending-story

https://scribemedia.com/write-book-conclusion/

Make A Promise In Your First Chapter: How-To Tips And Q&A For The Writing Life

Whether you’re writing a segment about your life, insight into history, a feature article, a novel, or a poem (yes, even haiku!), you’re laying out a path, an adventure, for your reader. There’s a reason for every ending: It seals the promise you make in your first line or paragraph or chapter. Then satisfaction makes your reader say, “Ah, that was good!” This seasoned author and reviewer shows how crafting your opening builds a promise to a reader. Discover the power of a beginning and ending that fit together (even when they have to fit head to toe). Gain a strategy for writing stronger and more memorable work. You’ll shape your writing with fresh insight from this chat.

Tag:Writing

Beth Kanell Writing That Braids Loss, Joy, Love

Sometimes Parents Can't Be Saved (and a Book Recommendation)

Martha Kanell, Dave's mother

Floods, fires, mass shootings -- in each news report, my eyes strain to see the children, in hopes that someone has saved them, putting them first. It seems like a shared value: If we can, we rescue the children. Then we look for others, including parents, grandparents, and more.

My husband Dave and I found many "coincidences" as we compared our lives before we met, at age 50. One especially poignant one involved our mothers: His mother, Martha, had died suddenly when just 57 years old (trust me, younger readers, that's a very unfair age for death), of a preventable complication from a hospital procedure. My mother, Joan, died suddenly at age 53 from a preventable complication from a hospital stay that in turn should never have happened.

Both of us agonized over those deaths—not just the grief of losing your mother before you've really had time to share adulthood with her, but also the insistent feeling that there must have been something we could have done to save them.

Sometimes, though, as I'm probing in my memoir segments at https://bethkanell.medium.com, that saving notion is a fantasy. Maybe it makes us feel that life is more predictable, if we imagine we have the strength and skills to save people. Maybe we're drowning in persistent guilt and trying to breathe.

One way I balance the loss and grief that life brings is by walking each morning, looking for ways to frame Vermont's natural beauty in photos. Poetry steps into that same balancing. And, of course, I read books. Although I read a lot of mysteries, some of them present caring stories where people support their neighbors and some people DO get saved! Here's a good one, new to the market today:

Birder, She Wrote, by Donna Andrews -- Relaxing Reading!

[originally published at New York Journal of Books]

“Between the careful plotting, the clever twists, and the colorful descriptions, Birder, She Wrote fills a nice slot for summer beach reading.”

 

Ah, summer in the country—a hammock, watching the hummingbirds, a break before going back to her job as the mayor’s special projects assistant. Meg Langslow ought to be able to count on that much, right? But that would be leaving out the hive of bees her father is setting up at her home, her grandmother Cordelia’s community activism that’s somehow landed a reporter among them, and of course, the political challenges of her job, inconvenient and pressing.

 

Her “short list” at the end of the first chapter already involves calming two wealthy families in town and finding the two unusual men whose lives have caused an upset. An upset, that is, about bees. Funny coincidence, right?

Actually, from the moment Britni the reporter pushes into the family’s efforts, nothing feels very funny. Almost immediately—after all, this is book 33 in the lively Southern mystery series that always involves some level of bird life out in the countryside—a dead body turns up. And finding the lost naturalist resolves nothing! Meanwhile, why on earth is Britni determined to profile Meg’s socially active grandmother for a sappy sweet-tea magazine that focuses on decor and dresses?

 

Count on Andrews for liberal splashes of humor: Meg and the law enforcement team, including Meg’s father, search the woods using Pomeranians as snuffling body detectors and then as search-and-rescue canines. Gentle puns also abound. But Andrews also sticks with the tried-and-true regimen of a good crime novel: clues and red herrings, and probing for the perfect combination of motive, means, and opportunity that makes clear who’s got a mission to murder in the neighborhood.

 

Meg presses the chief of police to reason more closely about the murder victim: “How’d he manage to get himself killed out here near one of Clay County’s better-known drug and moonshine markets? And … isn’t it more usual for drug dealers and moonshine sellers to keep shifting around where they do their dealing?” She pairs the circumstances with her knowledge of her hometown and past crimes, and takes the notion further: “What if Wally the Weird now fancies himself a hotshot vigilante anti-drug crusader? What if he thought he’d found another neighborhood teen on his way to buy drugs and followed them out here to get the goods on them?”

 

Meg’s also blunt when questioning local citizens, including those complaining about wildlife around their new homes in the country: “The bees were here first,” she points out. “If a bee-free environment was essential to your health and happiness, maybe you should have done a little more investigation before you bought your house.” The point’s well taken, and might have eliminated some local friction and even dropped a suspect off the list, if only the woman Meg lectured hadn’t turned out to be a likely victim of blackmail. So the question becomes, at what point does blackmail and the threat to “tell a secret” become motive enough to kill?

 

Adding fresh timeliness to the novel is a sideline of tracking down a long-vanished African-American cemetery in the woods—something that the prissy-appearing reporter tagging along finds totally uninteresting, but that puts the Pomeranians to even more use and engages Meg and her family with more of the neighbors and their histories.

 

Andrews offers a smoothly spun story full of her trademark observations of nature (not just birds) and women’s friendships. Between the careful plotting, the clever twists, and the colorful descriptions, Birder, She Wrote fills a nice slot for summer beach reading. Just don’t start looking up things like the “murder hornets” Meg has to consider, before packing your book bag for vacation.