For some, vacation means meandering the beaches of Fiji (they have beaches there, don't they?), or exploring side streets in Florence, or even meditating in a temple in Thailand . . . I've done all but Fiji, personally. Anyway, I just completed the vacation dreams are made of. Dreams a reader dreams, that is. It was a blissful week, lakeside in a cabin, surrounded by non-squabbling children (how on EARTH did that happen???), a peaceful husband, and . . .wait for it . . .a pile of books to be read.
I read five, in fact. Five novels, and a half of another that I'll finish tomorrow.
You all should know something about me: I'm not a book hoarder. I typically read even fabulous novels and then pass them on. They make the rounds in my family and then usually end up in my church library. I have limited shelf space in my house and the idea of packing a novel away makes me sad. However, a very select few will end up on my shelves. These are two I just had the pleasure of reading that will NOT depart from my personal collection. They've earned their shelf spot.
Murder at the Flamingo, by Rachel McMillan
Okay. Where do I start with this one? There was so much to love about it. I enjoyed the 20's/30's historical era, with the swinging pearls, the nylons, the furs, the bobbed hair. I totally dug the heroine, Reggie, in this historical novel with a criminal world bent to it. She was definitively independent and yet retained her grace and feminity. I appreciated that immensely as so many novels strive to make a woman so independent they lose the poise and the charm that is part of being, well, a woman. Reggie was perfect. Strong, funny, capable, considerate, kind, and not afraid to accept help when she saw it a wise choice.
The mystery was subtle but involved. It was by no means an Al Capone mobster book, but it definitely had hints of the underworld, of big city hierarchy, of little fish in a big pond--so to speak. It was rich with the ambience of the city of Boston. So much so, the reader could breathe in the air, taste the cannoli, hear the mixture of Italian, the Hebrew, and the all-American baseball player. It became a melting pot of beauty, cultural wealth, and historical opulence.
Can you tell I sorta liked it? ;)
Sons of Blackbird Mountain, by Joanne Bischof
Oh Joanne Bischof. You slay me. Leave me in wretched pieces of emotional contentment, starvation for more, meditative reflection, and a romantic sigh over a hero. This novel is the thing classics are made of. You know, the ones that a hundred years later people are still chewing on, deciphering, discussing, and making framed art of the book covers for their walls. It's beauty in words, in detail, in emotional cadence and lives in a soul long after the last page ends.
I'm not entirely sure what more to say. No book "review" can bring justice to this story. A story of human struggle, of a hero whose deafness deepens him in places no hearing-hero could ever go, a heroine who knows pain and trauma and yet finds wealth in the human hearts around her. A picture of the melding of cultures. Of freed slaves and the white immigrant, of those enslaved by the wickedness of man, and those enslaved by the draught of the human soul. Beauty clashes with the ugly. Goodness contends with evil. Struggle meets its match with faith.
This novel is a portrait worthy to be framed in the reader's heart for years to come ... for generations to come.
I read five, in fact. Five novels, and a half of another that I'll finish tomorrow.
You all should know something about me: I'm not a book hoarder. I typically read even fabulous novels and then pass them on. They make the rounds in my family and then usually end up in my church library. I have limited shelf space in my house and the idea of packing a novel away makes me sad. However, a very select few will end up on my shelves. These are two I just had the pleasure of reading that will NOT depart from my personal collection. They've earned their shelf spot.
Murder at the Flamingo, by Rachel McMillan
Okay. Where do I start with this one? There was so much to love about it. I enjoyed the 20's/30's historical era, with the swinging pearls, the nylons, the furs, the bobbed hair. I totally dug the heroine, Reggie, in this historical novel with a criminal world bent to it. She was definitively independent and yet retained her grace and feminity. I appreciated that immensely as so many novels strive to make a woman so independent they lose the poise and the charm that is part of being, well, a woman. Reggie was perfect. Strong, funny, capable, considerate, kind, and not afraid to accept help when she saw it a wise choice.
The mystery was subtle but involved. It was by no means an Al Capone mobster book, but it definitely had hints of the underworld, of big city hierarchy, of little fish in a big pond--so to speak. It was rich with the ambience of the city of Boston. So much so, the reader could breathe in the air, taste the cannoli, hear the mixture of Italian, the Hebrew, and the all-American baseball player. It became a melting pot of beauty, cultural wealth, and historical opulence.
Can you tell I sorta liked it? ;)
Sons of Blackbird Mountain, by Joanne Bischof
Oh Joanne Bischof. You slay me. Leave me in wretched pieces of emotional contentment, starvation for more, meditative reflection, and a romantic sigh over a hero. This novel is the thing classics are made of. You know, the ones that a hundred years later people are still chewing on, deciphering, discussing, and making framed art of the book covers for their walls. It's beauty in words, in detail, in emotional cadence and lives in a soul long after the last page ends.
I'm not entirely sure what more to say. No book "review" can bring justice to this story. A story of human struggle, of a hero whose deafness deepens him in places no hearing-hero could ever go, a heroine who knows pain and trauma and yet finds wealth in the human hearts around her. A picture of the melding of cultures. Of freed slaves and the white immigrant, of those enslaved by the wickedness of man, and those enslaved by the draught of the human soul. Beauty clashes with the ugly. Goodness contends with evil. Struggle meets its match with faith.
This novel is a portrait worthy to be framed in the reader's heart for years to come ... for generations to come.
I've never traveled outside of the US. Books are a great way to travel in the imagination, though! I read Sons of Blackbird Mountain, by Joanne Bischof this year and loved it, too.
ReplyDeleteDianna