The Little French Bistro, by Nina George

This book starts darkly, with a desperately unhappy sixty year old German woman attempting suicide. On a trip to Paris Marianne slips away from her controlling, philandering, and dismissive husband and deliberately herself into the Seine. Unwillingly saved before drowning she is hospitalized; there she is captivated by a small painting of the French coast. She promptly escapes, making her way to the sea, alone, friendless, not knowing the language, and determined to try to kill herself again.

Despite the tragic beginning, The Little French Bistro tells the story of a woman learning to trust herself for the first time and discovering she has wants and needs of her own. "I never even noticed that I am alive, she thought." At the same time, the small group of people she falls into help themselves by helping her, binding them all together in camaraderie and companionship. While sharing Marianne's journey out of depression George brilliantly illustrates the unbounded healing power of friendship. I found her description of the simple gaze of friends as "a balm for all the tears a woman shed over her lifetime—tears of passion, longing, happiness, emotion, rage, love, or pain" especially moving. An uplifting story that was welcome in our isolating times.

First Sentence:

It was the first decision she had ever made on her own, the very first time she was able to determine the course of her life.

The Punishment She Deserves, by Elizabeth George

Occasionally Elizabeth George is determined to put at least one insufferable character in the forefront of each of her Lynley novels. In Believing the Lie it was Deborah St. James, and here it is DCS Isabelle Ardery. Luckily for the reader, Ardery is given an interesting (if depressing) character arc: her alcoholism as demonstrated in the last few novels escalates and George does a brilliant job of depicting both the downward spiral and the desperate self-justification that accompanies it. "She calculated that a mere few shots of Grey Goose would not lead to another day of oblivion. So she had them." Coupled with the bizarre subplot of Barbara Havers learning to tap dance and a (unusual for George) throwaway pop culture reference to Luther, this depiction saves a rather mundane plot that seemingly paints every university student as a sex-crazed partier. Not a great entry in the series, but better than recent efforts for sure.

First Sentence:

The snow began falling on Ludlow town in the evening, while most people were doing their post-dinner washing-up as a prelude to sitting down in front of the television.

The Little Paris Bookshop, by Nina George

The narrative of The Little Paris Bookshop follows Jean Perdu, a Frenchman that was jilted by his lover over twenty years earlier finally opening the Dear John letter she'd left him, only to discover it wasn't what he expected. A bit of a madcap adventure ensues with Perdu picking up a couple of eccentric companions along the way, each with a quest of their own. The plot and characterization are both pretty thin, but the book shines in two areas: capturing the flavor of the countryside and illustrating the emotional might of storytelling.

As much as I enjoy living in Austin, getting away from civilization from time to time has always been a guilty pleasure. George depicts the transition from city to pastoral beautifully. "Something very specific was missing, something Perdu had grown so accustomed to that its absence gave him a slight dizziness and caused a humming in his ears. Immense relieve swept through him when he realized what it was. There was no rush of cars, no roar of the metro, no buzz of air conditioners. None of the whirr and grumble of millions of machines and transmissions and elevators and escalators. There were no sounds of reversing trucks, trains braking or heels on gravel and stone. None of the bass-driven music from the yobs two houses down, the crackle of skateboards, the chatter of scooters." The country is far from silent, but the noises of nature are much more soothing and pleasant than those of dense development.

My favorite things in life are my family and friends, Longhorn sports, beer, and books—not necessarily in that order. Reading has been a treasured companion of mine for as long as I can remember, and George is clearly a kindred spirit. She describes reading as having an "accompanying sense of wonder and the feeling of having a film running inside your head" which I think is as good of a depiction as any of what happens when consuming a novel. The back cover of my edition calls The Little Paris Bookshop "a love letter to books, meant for anyone who believes in the power of stories to shape people's lives." I wholeheartedly agree with this; the main lesson of the story isn't that good things come to good people or to those who wait, but to those that believe in the power of words to heal and shape ones soul.

While a bit treacly and overemotional at times, I quite enjoyed reading this book. It doesn't have the depth of Cyrano de Bergerac or the humor of The Princess Bride, but it is a pleasant read that makes for a solid diversion on a lazy weekend.

First Sentence:

How on earth could I have let them talk me into it?

Believing the Lie, by Elizabeth George

The Lynley novels have been uneven lately, but I haven't quite given up yet. Believing the Lie is just good enough to stand on its own, but still not as impressive as the earlier outings. The mystery is solid—George keeps us guessing as to the outcome until late in the novel—and the side-plots with one exception are intriguing as well. Homophobia is a major plot driver, with several minor characters showing a violent intolerance and others fully accepting; sadly nobody is ambiguous towards the topic at all removing the opportunity for any serious comment on the issue—everyone is a stereotype on one side or the other. At this point, though, we don't read this series for the plot but for the characters.

Inspector Lynley continues to act out after his wife's death, continuing his ill-advised affair with his alcoholic and unlikeable boss. Simon St. James is largely in the background here which is unfortunate. Deborah St. James however remains virtually intolerable; I don't understand how the reader is expected to believe people with the character and intelligence of the other leads would put up with the self-centered antics of Deborah who seems to exist only as a plot device. Barbara Havers continues to be my favorite; here she demonstrates the same grasp of Spanish I do: "I can't—of course—read the caption since it's in Spanish, in which language I can actually say una cerveza por favor but, believe me, nothing else."

Believing the Lie is better than the last few outings, but still not what I'd hope. The last few pages, however, cause me to eagerly await the next volume which looks to focus on Havers and Lynley. Hopefully Deborah will stay off page and quiet!

First Sentence:

Zed Benjamin had never been called into the office of the editor before, and he found the experience simultaneously disconcerting and thrilling.

This Body of Death, by Elizabeth George

I’ve missed Inspector Lynley and was glad to see another episode. I thought Lynley was a bit out of character here, shunning the instincts of his trusted team and friends to embrace their hated superior, but the actual mystery was captivating. George bounces back and forth between the story of a murdered ten year old boy and an unidentified young woman in a London graveyard. The two threads have seemingly nothing in common, but knowing that they are presented in the same narrative and need to share a conclusion makes it fairly obvious how they are related but no less suspenseful. While interesting, it was disappointing that we spent so much time with folks other than Lynley, Havers, St. James and the gang, and when we do see our friends they are whining about the new chief or at odds with each other. Overall I have mixed feelings here listing towards the negative; a good mystery with atypical character behavior—unfortunately sixteen books into the series I’m here more for the people than the prose.

First Sentence:

Reports from the investigating officers who interviewed both Michael Spargo and his mother prior to charges being filed against him all suggest that the morning of the boy’s tenth birthday began badly.

Careless in Red, by Elizabeth George

Inspector Lynley is back! After the disappointing last outing I had low expectations for this one. Luckily, George is back to her old self here, with her popular characters Lynley and Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers in the middle of a twisty murder investigation. Detective Inspector Bea Hannaford is a new voice in the mix and a welcome addition. George deftly avoids the trap of having Hannaford be the third stooge to Lynley and Havers, instead having the three at odds throughout the novel at the same time as being allies. The story is solid, and while I figured out what was happening before the end I was still surprised at the ultimate result. While not my favorite novel in the series, Careless in Red is much better than the previous few.

First Sentence:

He found the body on the forty-third day of his walk.

What Came Before He Shot Her, by Elizabeth George

This book tells the story of the kid that killed Helen Lynley in George's last book. It was an interesting tale, but I found it way too long. We learn not only about why an eleven year old boy would shoot a stranger, but about his brother, sister, mother, aunt, everyone. Almost 600 pages of an overly-intricate plot, telling an extremely bleak and depressing tale. George's editor did her a huge disservice by not tightening this up.

The author's intent was clearly to generate sympathy for the killer, to try and get the reader to see that violent crimes aren't all committed by evil people. I think it was laid on way too thick: murder, rape, theft, abandonment, child abuse, drugs, gangs, and mental handicaps all affected this family. We are supposed to think that society put Joel into a situation where he committed a heinous crime, but the truth of the matter is he knew what he was getting into. I hope George leaves the political posturing to the editorial page of the paper and gets back to writing mysteries.

First Sentence:

Joel Campbell, eleven years old at the time, began his descent towards murder with a bus ride.

With No One As Witness, by Elizabeth George

Elizabeth George has often stated that she wants to avoid creating formulaic books—she certainly succeeded here! At the end of the story, the lead investigator (and title character of the Inspector Lynley novels) has quit New Scotland Yard and his wife has been killed. She had been a central figure in previous novels, and I was really surprised at the way this was handled. Not the death itself (predictably caused by the serial killer being pursued in the A-story but in a fashion unlike his regular MO) but in the seemingly offhand manner it was presented. George had a serious case of Girlfriend in the Refrigerator Syndrome when she wrote this chapter!

The mystery that our band of heroes is trying to solve in this episode frankly isn’t that interesting. A serial killer is stalking young boys and the police don’t notice until the fourth victim is discovered, which also happens to be the first white one. This sets the press off on a hunt for racism within New Scotland Yard. Because we also see some scenes from the killer’s point-of-view we know that race isn’t a factor, but the media and police spin-doctors go wild. This topic could have been better developed, but was still more interesting than the manhunt itself.

If you are a fan of the Lynley novels, this is a good read because of all the major character development. (If you aren’t, start with an earlier novel where the plotlines are more interesting.) I am curious to see how these changes will affect the dynamics between the characters, but as the next book promises to be a prequel it will be a long time before we see what is in store for them.

First Sentence:

Detective Constable Barbara Havers considered herself one lucky bird: The drive was empty.

I, Richard, by Elizabeth George

I’ve written about Elizabeth George before, and was looking forward to sampling some of her short story work. The first one, Exposure, featured her famous Inspector Lynley but the other four did not. While I was disappointed at first, the other stories are pretty good in their own right. They are very O. Henry-ish, with the endings heavy on irony. While this makes them a bit predictable, they were still interesting.

First Sentence (from Exposure):

When members of the History of British Architecture class thought about the Abinger Manor Affair later on, each one of them would say that Sam Cleary had been the likeliest candidate for murder.

A Place of Hiding, by Elizabeth George

I really like the Inspector Lynley novels and was looking forward too reading this one. Unfortunately, this one concentrated on the most annoying regular: Deborah St. James. I like all the other main characters, but Deborah is a whiny, annoying, bitch. She spends most of the novel ignoring good advice and complaining that nobody takes her seriously. Simon (her husband) and Deborah get along so poorly that I thought the author was setting them up for a divorce, but no such luck. The next book in the series promises to be about Lynley and Havers, so I have higher hopes for it.

The mystery A Place of Hiding presents is fairly interesting, though. A philanthropist with a taste for (much) younger women is murdered amidst plans for a WWII museum. Suspects abound, and seemingly everyone on this small island has something to hide. Ms. George has set a high bar with her past work, but misses the mark here. If I wasn't familiar with the other novels in the series I think I would have enjoyed this much more.

First Sentence:

Santa Ana winds were no friend of photography, but that was something you could not tell an egomaniacal architect who believed his entire reputation rested on capturing for posterity — and for Architectural Digest—fifty-two thousand square feet of unfinished hillside sprawl today.