Gentlemen and Players by Joanne Harris

I had never heard of Joanne Harris before picking up Gentlemen and Players, and I had no idea she had also written the ever popular Chocolat, so I didn't really know what to expect. I was simply browsing through a bookshop and the name caught my attention. I'm glad it did as I enjoyed the novel quite a bit. Gentlemen and Players is written in the first person alternating between the protagonist, an aging professor at an exclusive boys school, and antagonist, a 12 year old wanting to be a part of the school. You get both sides of the story, with the author throwing in quite a few twist that tend to make your jaw drop in either unbelieving or shock even though you might have slightly suspected it was coming.

As the inside flap says:

For generations, privileged young men have attended St. Oswald's Grammar School for Boys, groomed for success by the likes of Roy Straitley, the eccentric Classics teacher who has been a fixture there for more than thirty years. But this year the wind of unwelcome change is blowing. Suits, paperwork and information technology are beginning to overshadow St. Oswald's tradition, and Straitley is finally, and reluctantly, contemplating retirement. He is joined this term by five new faculty members, including one who-unbeknownst to Straitley and everyone else-holds intimate and dangerous knowledge of St. Oswald's ways and secrets. Harboring dark ties to the school's past, this young teacher has arrived with one terrible goal: to destroy St. Oswald's.

The alternating points of view give you a good picture of what both main players are thinking while still keeping many secrets from the reader. I found that I could relate to both in small ways and enjoyed getting to know them. One of the "principles" mentioned in the novel even came to my attention in the real world in dealing with my 12 year old son,(although with him, we weren't talking about murder or trespassing). The story begins:

If there's one thing I've learned in the past fifteen years, it's this: that murder is really no big deal. It's just a boundary, meaningless and arbitrary as all others--a line drawn in the dirt

Like the giant NO TRESPASSERS sign on the drive to St. Oswald's, straddling the air like a sentinel. I was nine years old at the time of our first encounter, and it loomed over me then with the growling menace of a school bully.

NO TRESPASSERS
NO UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY BEYOND THIS POINT
BY ORDER

another child might have been daunted by the command. But in my case curiosity overrode the instinct. By whose order? Why this point and not another? and most importantly, what would happen if I crossed that line?

Joanne Harris does a nice job with the cat and mouse motif and if you haven't given her a try, I do recommend her and the appositely named novel.

Shooting Star by Peter Temple

Ok, so I've gotten incredibly lazy with keeping up with this blog, I'd even go so far as to say ridiculously lazy. I know, I know, it's the end of the month and this is only my second blog...pretty bad. I'm sure the few of you on here are lost and wondering what to do with all of that extra time you have since I've been gone, well, never fear, I'm back...for the moment anyway.

In my absence I can't say I've been reading a whole lot that would inspire me to write about it, mostly I've been re-reading things as a result of not being interested in reading something new. One of the exceptions would be Peter Temple's Shooting Star. It's been several weeks since I finished it, but I do remember enjoying the book enough to grab my Kindle and download some of his earlier stories, and I have The Broken Shore sitting on one of book shelves also. Back to Shooting Star, according the inside flap, the plot goes something like this:

Her rich family has closed ranks and summoned Frank Calder, ex-soldier and disgraced police hostage negotiator. they want him to deliver the ransom money to the kidnappers. Frank wants them to call in the law, but the family refuses, since police bungling nearly cost the life of another Carson child kidnapped years before.

But are the two kidnappings connected? and is greed the motivation? Revenge? Or could it be something else? To find out, Frank Calder must go beyond his brief.

As Frank feverishly searches for suspects in the web of Carson family businesses and deals, marriages and indiscretions, rivalries and intrigues, he knows that if his instincts are wrong, the girl will surely die.

I can't say I remember a whole lot of what happened or "who done it", but what I do remember is the, dark writing that pulls you in, it's almost poetic feeling at times.

We go down the passage. I feel the old sprung floorboards bounce, feel the rotten stumps move. Dave is ahead of me. At the frond door, I say, 'Open it.'

He opens it, stands, looks back at me. And I am seeing myself from outside, looking into the dim doorway, seeing myself, shirtless, sweat in the hollow of my throat.

'It's OK,' I say. 'It's OK, I'm with you.'

He puts out a hand to me. I sigh and take it and we go out into the verandah together, grown men holding hands.

It is dark, no moon, no lights on in the street. I am straining to see beyond the low hedge and front gate.

At the steps, the spotlight comes on, night sun, impossibly bright light. Dave jumps, startled, lets go of my hand, turns, tries to hug me, bury his head in my shoulder.

I hear the sound and I feel the shot hit him, feel it through his bones, feel it through his arms clinging to me.

'Oh Jesus, no,' I say, holding him, feeling the strength leave his body, having to hold him up, feel his warm blood on my face, taste it on my lips, go to my knees with him.

And I hear myself saying, 'No, Dave, not me, not me.'

Then I am myself, looking into his eyes, seeing the reproach in them, no anger, just hurt and betrayal. 'You knew,' he says and he begins to cough, to cough up blood.

I have also heard good things about Temple's Truth and I believe it won The Miles Franklin award, a pretty nice Australian Literary award as I understand it. If you have read it, let me know what you think.

Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen

Two things struck me about Water for Elephants. The first is the entertainingly colloquial style the book is written in. One of my favorites in the beginning of the first chapter...

I am ninety. Or ninety-three. One of the other.

When you're five, you know your age down to the month. Even in your twenties you know how old you are. I'm twenty-three, you say, or maybe twenty-seven. But then in your thirties something strange starts to happen. It's a mere hiccup at first, an instant of hesitation. How old are you? Oh, I'm - you start confidently, but then you stop. you were going to say thirty-three, but you're not. you're thirty-five. And then you're bothered, because you wonder if this is the beginning of the end. It is, of course, but it's decades before you admit it.

I'm not much older than thirty and I can certainly relate...unfortunatly.

The other thing that struck me was the explicit sexual crudeness of parts of the story. I can't put an example on here without changing the adult contact settings, but I will say that she could do with a lesson from Jim Thompson on how less can be more. I'll use the example someone once pointed out to me from The Killer Inside Me

"You're not going anywhere, baby," I said, and I hit her again.

And at last she got it.

She jumped up and I jumped with her. I whirled her around gave her a quick one-two, and she shot backwards across the room and bounced and slumped against the wall. She staggered to her feet, weaving, mumbling, and half-fell toward me. I let her have it again.

I backed her against the wall, slugging and it was like pounding a pumpkin. Hard, then everything giving away at once.

That little bit says a lot, and gives you a good enough general picture to get the point across, we didn't need the details.

Regardless however, I admit, I was regaled by the story told by Jacob Jankowski about his life, and how he came to be a veterinarian in a traveling circus. In the early part of the Great Depression, as he was finishing his last year of veterinarian school, Jacob's parents were suddenly killed leaving him to fend for himself without a penny to his name. In a paroxysm of anger and sadness he runs. Just runs. Eventually he stumbles on a train and, on impulse, jumps on not realizing how drastically his life was about to change. Before he knows what has happened, he's put in charge of the animals, falling in love with the wife of a deranged animal trainer and figuring out the puzzle to training the seemingly untrainable elephant that is meant to either save or break the show, and in the end, possibly help him survive.

Overall, I'm not yet sure if it is a story I would recommend, I think I would given a disclaimer, as I did like the author's overall style, but if you are reading the book because you enjoyed the movie, just beware of the "extra content".

The Confession by John Grisham (audio version)

I've been reading John Grisham novels since I was a teenager and he was one of the first authors who wrote books I just had to have as soon as they came out. Over the years however, I've lost interest. I'm not sure at what point, sometime after A Painted House, it just didn't do it for me anymore. Then there was The Innocent Man, Grisham's endeavor at non-fiction, and my interest temporarily returned only to be quickly lost again with Playing For Pizza which hasn't even gotten more than a read of the cover from me. Now there is The Confession and once again, John Grisham has captured my attention.

Donte Drum was convicted of the brutal rape and murder of a high school cheerleader, and sentenced to death. For nine years, Donte claims he is innocent. His lawyer repeatedly points out the lack of evidence, the abuse during questioning that eventually led to Donte's confession, the lies told by his accusers, one of them being a bloodhound, and the lack of a body that proves the cheerleader is even dead. Now, Donte is 4 days away from execution, with no chance of appeal left, when the real killer, who is dying of a brain tumor, walks into a Kansas minister's office and confesses. He even claims to know where, and how, the body is buried. The question is, can the truth convince the lawyers, politicians, and powers that be that they are about to kill an innocent man?

When the book originally came out last year, I could have sworn I read it was based on a true story, I can't find anything about that now, but I have to admit, I don't find the prospect too far fetched. I'm sure we have killed innocent people with the death penalty, just as I'm sure there are guilty people that get off scott free. It goes both ways. What the book demands we think about is how that happens, and the social injustice that goes with it.

For more information about any of John Grisham's books, his web site is here, and you can find The Confession at Amazon

The Missing by Jane Casey

I realized about half way through reading The Missing that Jane Casey is the first, and only, female Irish author I've read. I'm not sure what specifically made me notice that, but I do remember thinking how different the book was from the male Irish authors I typically read. Honestly though, I'm not sure the difference really had to do with gender, just a difference in how the author writes and sees the direction of the story, (except maybe the added bit of romance, that does seem to be more of a female story plot).

The Missing follows the story of Sarah Finch as we go back and forth between the time she was a young child and her brother mysteriously disappears, and when she is an adult and finds one of her students bodies on a wooded path. Back in 1992, Sarah was 9 years old and laying on a blanket in the grass when her older brother left the house to go visit a friend. He never returned. Throughout the coming years it tore her family apart and her mom seemed to never forgive her for not telling the secrets she was convinced her daughter knew. In the present day, Sarah is a teacher at a posh all girls school where things aren't always as they seem. When a student disappears, just as mysteriously as her brother, she, along with the police are convinced the cases are connected and Sarah begins to try to find the one responsible.

The story is easy to read, and I enjoyed the past mixing in with the present, but at times I thought it was a bit unrealistic. The characters just didn't quite seem real to me and I often thought the things they did didn't quite match up with the character. Regardless, accepting the story and characters as they were, it was a nice bit of difference from the Irish noir crime I tend to read and I am curious as where the next book, The Burning will take us.

The Missing

Zoe

Eulogizing Zoe seems like an impossible thing, and it's breaking my heart trying. Zoe came to us 7 years ago at the age of 3 from friends. She very quickly became "my dog", following me around as I did day to day chores or sitting by me as I read a book. When I started training her, she became even more mine as she taught me instant forgiveness since I often messed up. She was a dog a lot of people said would never make it through the junior test, she certainly proved them wrong now having not only a junior title but a senior title also. And one of my fondest memories of working with this wonderful dog will always be attempting our first master test. I was petrified. We went to the line though, and finished the first two series in the test. I've never been so proud. We didn't pass, but it took quite awhile for me to stop smiling over how far we got. The impossible had happened.

Now it's been 7 years, and countless hours with Zoe acting as my proverbial guinea pig as we learned how to play the hunting game together. Driving way before dawn, staying in hotels, throwing ducks in endless fields, ponds, mud, rain, cold, hot, laughter, tears. It's been a 7 years I will never forget thanks to her. She's given me her best, I'm going to miss her more than I can begin to say.


Zoe Kiana McWhirt SH 2/7/02-5/17/11

"I'm not dead yet" (Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail)

Hey everyone, I just thought I'd pop on here real quick and let the few of you know I'm still alive and reading, I'm just being lazy about blogging. I do intend to eventually get a blog on here about The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler once life in the real world will give me time to actually sit down and figure out what I want to say. In the mean time, I've been re-reading some "chic" books for some unexplainable reason other than I just want to. Yep, even I let that girly side get the best of me occasionally. However, that said, hopefully I will soon return to normal and get back to the regularly scheduled blogging....and commenting, (although, for the most part, I have been able to keep up with reading what everyone in the blog world is writting even if it is just a few seconds before running out the door with the intention to comment as soon as I get back).