Book Review: The Way of All Fish by Martha Grimes

I usually try to write only positive book reviews.  I well know how much work goes into writing a book and I appreciate the effort and angst it takes to put yourself out there.  However, Grimes is hailed as a bestselling author and I think she has likely enjoyed enough of the riches and rewards of actually making money from her writing to undergo closer inspection.  Besides, if she is such a bestselling author, she will likely never read this.

From Goodreads

It took until the middle of the book before I knew what the book was about.  I thought Grimes was a mystery writer and I kept waiting for the mystery.  When there was still no murder well into the book, I reread the reviews and book summary on the book cover and was told this was a satire.  Hmmm.  Really?  This is not how I picture satire.
Why are two of the main characters named Candy and Cindy?  This is too confusing.  Why would two hitmen decide to play jokes on an agent instead of killing him?  They are paying money to play these jokes, but who is going to pay them?  There are way too many characters and they all have weird names.  I thought Martha Grimes wrote mystery books.  There is no mystery here, unless you count the mystery of the point of the book.  It was also unclear that this is a sequel.  Would it have made more sense if I’d read Foul Matter?  I’m not willing to find out.
I don’t think it’s fair that Grimes got paid to publish this book.  Sure, she should be free to write a book that imagines torturing an agent she doesn’t like, but no one else should have to read it.  The world of publishing she describes seems archaic.  It felt like she has only seen such a world through old movies and books.  She also made far too many references to old films and books I've never heard of.  Do they actually exist?
I enjoyed the scene with writer, Cindy Sella, trying to dance at a club/ rave as well as her inability to get her main character out of the car.  I was actually briefly interested in her relationship with Joe Blythe, but this was only fleeting and I returned to my attitude of disbelief and annoyance as soon as that short connection ended.
The book was also filled with awkward sentences.  Here are a couple of examples: p. 267  “The faux smile, like that of a hitchhiker hoping you’d stop for poor her so she could climb in the car and thrust the knife between your shoulder blades –"   p. 270  “While he stuffed his shirt into his pants, he stared out of the window at the Allegheny River streaked with September sunlight; the Sixth Street Bridge, one of the several that spanned the Allegheny River; and PNC Park, so perfectly positioned in its basin that it looked done by a master landscaper.”  I can forgive awkward sentences in writers who cannot afford editors, but I expect more from a "bestselling author".  Forgive my rant, we should all have to opportunity to write in different genres.  But to be paid to publish them, there must be a higher standard.

Expectations: A Continuation of Pride and Prejudice, First Chapter

I was thinking my favourite thing to read, even on blogs, is fiction.  So, I thought I'd start posting some bits from my published works, in case you also love fiction.  Here's a little from the first chapter of my book Expectations: A Continuation of Pride and Prejudice.

June 1813

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a married man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a son.

amazon,.com

            This truth is so well known, that all families related to the man consider his heir to be their rightful descendent and all of his neighbours await the new arrival.

            ‘My dear Mr. Bennet,’ said his lady to him one day, ‘have you not considered that it is six months since our two eldest were married?’

            ‘Why should I consider this?’ replied Mr. Bennet, though he daily remembered the wit and sense they brought to his otherwise foolish household.

            ‘But it is so.  I have thought of little else since their nuptials.  How can you not have?’

            ‘I leave such consideration up to you, my dear.  Why should I squander my time on matters which occupy all of yours?’

            ‘Well, my dear, you must reflect upon the fact we have had no word from either girl since her wedding day.’

            ‘Now there, I have caught you in an untruth, for I see a pile of no less than five letters from each daughter upon your writing table.’

            ‘Mr. Bennet, pity my nerves with your tiresome responses.’

            ‘My dear, I could hardly pity the nerves you use to trump every conversation.’

             Mrs. Bennet carried on, ignoring Mr. Bennet.

            ‘Mr. Bennet, you must know, both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley are men of large fortunes.  Why just the other day, Mrs. Long mentioned such large fortunes must be insured by the acquisition of an heir.’

            Here Mrs. Bennet’s voice dropped, uncharacteristically. 

‘You know I never tell a falsehood, I was only trying to be delicate in the presence of our two unmarried daughters.’

‘What did you say Mrs. Bennet?  I can hardly hear you at so moderate a decibel.’

Mrs. Bennet made an utterance of exasperation and raised her voice to its regular volume.

‘I said, Mr. Bennet, I was trying to be delicate in the presence of our two unmarried daughters.  I should not wish to startle them with talk of producing an heir.’

‘Now, Mrs. Bennet, do you not think you should lower your voice when speaking of such subjects?’  Mr. Bennet admonished with a barely repressed twinkle.  ‘Especially when our unmarried daughters might overhear you.’

At this, Kitty coughed and Mary flipped quickly though her latest book.  Mrs. Bennet, so used to Mr. Bennet’s daily exasperations, continued on her quest.

‘If you were only to visit our neighbours more frequently and inquire upon the visitations of their young men, perhaps our younger daughters would be married by now rather than being present to overhear my indelicate remarks.’

‘Heaven help us, Mrs. Bennet, for then who would save me from such indelicate remarks?’

‘What I propose, Mr. Bennet, is a letter from you to our eldest daughters encouraging them in the matter I earlier mentioned.’

Mr. Bennet had been pushed beyond his ability to banter and flew into a strong, though entirely brief, rage.

‘My dear, surely you jest!  How do you suppose such a letter would look?’  Mr. Bennet’s face had taken on a hint of rouge at his lady’s impropriety.

‘Of course, you would not come right out and say what I mean, only hint at the importance of subservience and attention to their husbands.’

Mr. Bennet returned once more to his sarcasm and humour. 

‘I fear, my dear, they would not know of which I wrote.  From where did our girls ever observe such qualities in this home?’  At this, Mr. Bennet turned from the room and was not to be seen for the remainder of the afternoon.

‘Really Kitty, do control that cough.  You are ruining my nerves.’

Mrs. Bennet breathed quickly while Kitty tried to apologize and return her mother to equilibrium.  Mary, knowing her own attentions would only be ignored, turned another page in her endless book.

In honor of my New Year's Resolution, here is my drawing of the Bennets speaking in this scene.  I copied it from Hugh Thompson's illustration from 1880.

Drawn by Samantha Adkins

Something new for the New Year

I've never been a big fan of New Year's Resolutions.  Last year, I decided to make only one resolution - to order french fries with my meals.  (This was based on a comedy sketch I heard somewhere that I can not find now!!  If you find it on the internet, let me know and I will include a link here.)  I did it only once.  Then I reverted to eating my husband's fries.

This year, I made my family give one resolution while we shared a New Year's meal in my mom's kitchen.  For this year, mine was slightly less ridiculous.  I resolved to write a story in a different genre.  Ever since my kids fell in love with graphic novels, I've wanted to make my book Subgirl into a graphic novel.  Now is my chance!

Two of my kids' favourite authors: Raina Telgemeier with Ann M. Martin and Jeff Kinney

First, I had to search for a pencil that was actually sharp.  My kids have total dominion over all office supplies in our house.  They are scattered throughout the house and hunting anything down takes perseverance and determination, but I finally collected these tools.  Also, my hubby picked up this awesome Sharpie Fine Tip pen.  Thanks honey!

Then I froze up and decided to watch a couple of youtube videos on how to write a graphic novel. 

 

I also read this article.  Then I ignored a lot of the advice and just started to draw.  I'd already sketched out an idea while I was waiting for our plane to take us home.  So, I drew 4 boxes and illustrated a character from my novel, Subgirl.  I fought through the nagging doubts that I was wasting my time and that it looked nothing like what I had envisioned.  It helped that it was fun.  Then I snapped a photo and sent it to my friend Katie, who I knew was also hoping to sketch more in the new year.  

Illustration of Faith Hairpin from Subgirl, by Samantha Adkins

She could relate to feeling like and idiot and wrote out a beautiful description of herself, sketching after her husband went to bed so he couldn't see how silly she was.  I was instantly inspired to create another comic strip of the scene and came up with the following

Illustration of feeling like an idiot whilst drawing, inspired by Katie Kenig, drawn by Samantha Adkins
(The cat's book says "How to Freak Out Your Person."  His phone says "Creaky Door Sound" hehehe)

Does that count as completing my New Year's Resolution?  I'm not sure if I'll be drawing any more comic strips, but I might.  It never hurts to make yourself laugh.  Even if I'm the only one laughing!
  

Hold on to the good

 We headed to my hometown for the holidays.  It's been a week filled with games, food and excited children.  I've totally enjoyed it and have been spoiled with my mom's cooking and the time and energy to visit and do whatever we feel like each day.

I came across this Christmas Basket from my childhood, tucked away in a closet collecting dust.  I brought it out as a joke, but it actually gave me a lot of joy.

Even though writers aren't supposed to admit it, I had a wonderful childhood.  I've frequently had conversations with other writers about whether or not you can write well if you've had a healthy upbringing.  I'm clearly in favour of answering yes to this question.  Fictional writing, at least, is about more than experiences -- imagination is absolutely necessary. You can have that no matter how you were raised.

So, in the midst of the trend of decluttering, minimalism, and chucking it all to live in a tiny house, I'd like to suggest you hold onto something (or maybe a few things) you never use purely to bring a smile to your face.

I recently took part in a writing exercise at the Surrey International Writers' Conference with Danika Dinsmore where she had us imagine a room from any time in our past and then to write about specific objects in the room.  We were to say "Hello stapler", for example, and then keep writing.  It sounded a bit crazy at first, but as I went along, I was surprised by how much detail I remembered.  The point of the exercise was to pay attention to the emotions each object brought us.  After saying hello for 10 minutes, or so, we wrote about these emotions to show us that our characters feel something for the objects around them.  Here is a similar exercise by Danika, if you'd like to try it: Images from Memory Exercise.

Happy New Year to all and may you enjoy the objects around you and may you do something you love as much as I loved cross-country skiing with my family.

Americanah Review

goodreads.com

I thought I'd start with one of my favourite quotes in Americanah "It's a novel, right? What's it about?" Why did people ask "What's it about?" as if a novel had to be about only one thing. Ifemelu disliked the question; she would have disliked it even if she did not feel, in addition to her depressed uncertainty, the beginning of a headache. 

This is how I feel about my book reviews. I know I'm not good at them. I rarely write what the book was about, but instead focus on my thoughts and feelings about the book. Probably not the most fun thing to read, but it's what I like to write.

This is a story about a Nigerian woman who moves to the U.S. to complete her university degree, becomes a U.S. citizen and then returns to Nigeria after 13 years. It is also a love story about the boy she leaves behind, their estrangement and eventual reunion. I found the observations of life in Nigeria and a Nigerian's observations of American culture to be very eye-opening. Half-way through the book; however, I began to distrust the narrator's continually scorching judgement of people and culture. I'm not sure if it was because the main character became more hardened and bitter as well as depressed or if the book was just a tad too long.

A few chapters also focused on Ifemelu's boyfriend's experience in England and Nigeria. I felt this gave the book further scope and depth. I was glad for this perspective.

Despite the length of the book, it was a quick read with lots of dialogue and anecdotes. The tone was conversational and engaging. I feel like I learned a lot and, in spite of Ifemelu's faults, she was an endearing, intelligent and compelling main character. I'm curious now how much of this novel was based on the author's experiences. I know you're not supposed to wonder this, but it seemed very real.

Jane and the Twelve Days of Christmas Review

Stephanie Barron's mystery book Jane and the Twelve Days of Christmas is the perfect cozy mystery for Austen-lovers at this time of year.

www.sohopress.com

Not only does it have a gorgeous cover, but it is filled with historical treats for Austen fans as well as a well-paced, "clew"-strewn puzzle.

In this, the twelfth "Being A Jane Austen Mystery" installation, Jane is on her way to visit her brother at Steventon Parsonage for the Christmas holidays.  Barron does an excellent job of describing his cold, stingy home and his lazy, dramatic wife.  After a dangerous accident along the way, the Austens are thankfully invited to spend the holidays at The Vyne, an opulent historic house where they are in much better care.  Shortly after they arrive; however, an unexpected guest is murdered and the frivolity of the season comes to an end. 

Barron's depiction of Jane Austen as a witty and clever detective is both believable and delightful.  Her methodical and level-headed mind seems the perfect match for solving mysteries.  Whenever I read her series, I wish I had thought of the concept first!  Barron's extensive research and knowledge of Austen's work, life and letters is obvious throughout the book without becoming burdensome.  Her stitching of fiction and nonfiction is seamless.

One of my favourite mini-dramas in the book is the twelve gifts Cassandra and Jane give their 10-year-old niece, Caroline on each of the Twelve Days of Christmas.  What is a book about Christmas without gifts, after all?  The addition of Mr. West as a detective partner is also intriguing.  I highly recommend this holiday read.

Juvenilia

Juvenilia is the word used to describe Jane Austen's early works, specifically those written when she was a child.  I have a beautiful copy of some of them in a book I picked up at Indigo called Jane Austen: An Illustrated Treasury.

This is one of her more well-known pieces of Juvenilia titled The History of Enbland from the reign of Henry the 4th to the death of Charles the 1st By a partial, prejudiced & ignorant Historian.

The other night, my daughter was very excited about an idea she had for a book.  I encouraged to her to get right to work before she forgot anything.  Then I remembered that I had written my first "novel" when I was in grade 6, the very grade she is in now.  As soon as I told her, she begged me to find it, so I did.  Here is a photo of the cover page:

Naturally, the kids wanted me to read the book, so I've begun reading a little bit each day.  (By the way, the boy is pointing at the doll house, not trying to shoot it, as my kids first thought!  Also, the shirt was very fashionable in the 80's!!)

The kids are adamant in their praise of my early writing and perhaps this has coloured my view a little, but I have to admit, I'm enjoying the read.  It's full of cliches and the word "stupid" (which I censor as I read).  There are also large holes in the plot and it probably draws richly on what I was reading at the time, but it is fun and imaginative.  It's what made me want to become a writer.  In case you are intrigued, I'll give you a little excerpt.  I hope you'll forgive me for fixing the spelling and grammatical mistakes.  I can't help myself!

Chapter One: The Fall

"Tommy Manning, come downstairs or you supper will get cold!"

"Mom, I can't come downstairs.  I have to finish building Melissa's doll house."

"Don't keep giving me that ridiculous excuse.  Now either come downstairs or turn into a skinny pencil!"

I guess there's no use fighting with my mother, but the truth is, I'm really not working on this stupid doll house.  I'm actually planning an escape route for when my mom's idiotic 13-year-old cousin comes.  Her name is Sophia Keople and she's a real drip.  I don't exactly know her, but she's an A++ student.  Ugh!  Well, I better get down for supper, or else!

That night, after supper, I really do start to build the doll house.  It isn't really that bad, but it is kind of babyish.  I decide to make the doll house exactly like ours.  Have you tried building a doll house exactly like your own for your jerky sister at the age of 9?!  I tell you, it's no picnic!

That night, I wake up from brain pain.  My head isn't broken in half, don't worry.  It's that I suddenly remember I forgot my homework.  I decide to sneak down to the kitchen and do my math.

As I walk downstairs, I can hear my sister singing in her sleep.  She's no Whitney Houston, that's for sure!  I also hear other neat noises that you can never hear in the daytime; like the hum of the refrigerator, the rumble of the heater and the snoring of the cat.  What?  The cat snores?  Gee, this is really weird!

Then next morning, when I wake up, I can hear my dad singing in the shower, and he's no Kenny Rogers either!  I decide to put on my mini headphones and listen to some real music!  As I start up the stairs again, my sister Melissa comes running down, yelling and screaming.  I try to stop her, but all that does is put me into a nosedive and pull me down too.  The next minute, everything goes black.

I seriously used a semicolon in grade 6?  Even now, I am wary of them:)

So, thanks to my grade 6 teacher, Mr. G, who inspired us by reading his own novel, set in South Africa where he was from, and then told us to write our own.  I relished this project and haven't really stopped the assignment since.