Kicked off the reading week with two books by Michele Geruttari, A Florentine Death and Death in Tuscany which I spotted in Waterstones just the week before. Always on the look out for new crime authors and it seems that Geruttari is an ex-policeman, head of the Florentine Squadra Mobile, now retired and using his knowledge to write thrillers. Both stories were fairly complicated and concentration was necessary to work out what was going on, not sure the writing is particularly sparkling and the characterisation of Michele and his wife, Petra, very similar to that of Brunetti and his wife in the Donna Leon books. Enjoyed both of them in a moderate way and a thrid opus coming up I gather. Good holiday reading but nothing staggering. Must mention there was a picture of the author in the back of one of the books - very cool in Armani and shades, so unlike our own dear Metropolitan Commissioner, Ian Blair, who one feels lacks a certain glamour.
The Glassblowers of Murano by Marina Fiorato. Loved this. Story told with one of my favourite devices, flipping backwards and forwards in time from the Venice of Vivaldi up to the present day. Corrado Manin is a glass master on Murano island who, unknown to the Ten who rule Venice, has a secret daughter in the
Ospidale founded by Vivaldi. In order to protect her he sells his methods and his soul to the Sun King, Louis XIV of France who wants his expertise in the building of the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles. This is a betrayal which will ultimately lead to his death in the dark alleyways of Venice. Centuries later his descendant, Nora Manin, fleeing from an unhappy marriage comes to the city to become an apprentice on Murano and learn the art of glass blowing. This book is such a good read, once started I was absorbed. Any book set in Venice will appeal to me and this was no exception. Death, betrayal, love, passion all set in my most favourite city in the world. Great stuff. Loved it.
On the plane out read The Moonspinners by Mary Stewart. This was pure nostalgia as I first read it when I was in my teens after seeing the movie with Peter McEnary who I rather fancied at the time, and a very young Hayley Mills. Film was promoted as the film in which she had her first screen kiss and the whole thing was very Disneyfied and young and innocent which is contrary to the original story. Reading this book then made me want to visit the Greek Islands with the wonderful descriptions of the shimmering heat and the countryside and reading it some 45 years later, I still found it worked its charm.
Footprints in the Sand by Sarah Challis. When Emily Kingsley arrives for the funeral of her eccentric Great Aunt Mary she finds that she and her cousin Clemmie have been asked to take the ashes of her
aunt and scatter them in the desert of Mali. Why? as far as the family are aware Great Aunt Mary had never been there in her life. What is the reason for this and why does Great Aunt Mary's timid companion seem to know more than she is admitting? The two cousins set off, Emily unhappy at the ending of a relationship and Clemmie, romantic and looking for something to give meaning to her life. Lots of adventures, great descriptions of the desert which, being an army child who lived close to the desert as a youngster, I found fascinating and nostalgic. A perfect book to read on holiday, exciting and gripping and unputdownable and curled up on my sun bed under an olive tree, relished the chance to sit and read this straight through.
Reina James - The Time of Dying. Just after World War I a virulent flu epidemic was sweeping the country and
thousands were dying. Though this book started promisingly I found myself getting totally bogged down with the descriptions of the dead bodies being dealt with by the narrator of the story, an undertaker. All very depressing and, ultimately, a rather pointless drawn out plot which seemed to die off into nothing by the end. I closed up the book thinking, Yes, well....bit boring really. However, it appears that this story is unusually compelling' (Guardian) and 'finely written and affecting' (Independent). I obviously missed something along the way.
Sheriden Hay - The Secret of Lost Things. Set in a bookshop in New York and involving a possible secret and unpublished manuscript by Herman Melville, all is set fair for an intriguing read. Sorry, I know quite a
few people have read this and enjoyed it, but though some of the less central characters were engaging and likable, it seems to me that the author went out of her way to portray all those involved in the bookshop, the Arcade, to be devious, sly, double crossing and nasty and one scene in particular, I found quite degrading and distasteful. The author admits in the notes at the back of the book, that other readers have felt this too, so not just me, and went on to explain that she felt it brought out the vulnerability of this particular character. I disagree. I felt it unnecessary and though I finished reading Secret of Lost Things I felt slightly grubby at the end of it with a profound disinclination to read any more of this author. Once more the quotes on the back of the book were totally at odds with my feelings so, once again, I seem to have missed something. Wonder what it is...
Fair Play - Tove Jansson. Oh dear is all I can really say about this Pymish, Brooknerish series of loosely linked vignettes of two women who share an apartment, both creative artists. According to the foreword by Ali Smith, this book has not been available in English for some 30 years and its publication is an
occasion for 'great rejoing'. Well, my celebration was somewhat muted. I don't expect a book to have an event every paragraph but it would be nice if something happened occasionally but nothing, simply nothing happens in this book. And apparently this is the whole point of the story. The delineation of the nothing is the book's raison d'etre. Sorry, I am just a plain ornery reader here who likes a bit of action now and then, the odd characterization and a bit of pizazz slung in occasionally. So I had come to the wrong shop here. Apparently Fair Play is superbly written, elegiac and full of the minutia of daily life.
zzzzzzzzzzz I went on my sunbed....
Then one day, rapidly running out of reading matter, two books picked up from the bookshelves in the lobby of the hotel: Iris and Ruby by Rosie Thomas.
Ruby is a stroppy teenager who rows with her mum and leaves home to go and stay with her grandmother, Iris, in Cairo. Again, two story lines past and present so I knew this was for me, spent time in Cairo as a child, so again it scored points and all great fun and readable. Pretty predictable in characterizing and setting and you could guess what was going to happen a mile off but whiled away another afternoon on the beach very nicely.
Second book picked up that day - Tell it to the Skies by Erica James. This
author is one I have come across in book sales and charity shops and have read the odd one or two with varying degrees of appreciation. This was a goodie and I knew it would be because it was set, once more, in Venice. Told in flashbacks, lots of childhood secrets, lost loves and all ending happily in San Marco. Bellissima.
Final book read and closed up just as the bus came to take us to the airport was Star Gazing by Linda Gillard which I loved and which deserves a post all on its own which I will write as soon as possible.
Then on the way back started the latest Elizabeth George which kept me going on the flight. Very slow start, very irritating book so far, found her last Lynley unreadable and was feeling I might give up on this one as well, but I hate to be defeated and now that Havers is on the scene and the story line actually getting a move on (so it should by page 232 which is where I am up to), I am getting drawn in.
Phew, well that's it folks. My fellow holiday makers who were out on the razz most nights, were slightly taken aback at the number of books I read, but to have ten days where I could just sit and read for pleasure, relaxation and sheer fun was my idea of heaven.
There is no accounting for tastes...
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