Katharine P

Yann Martel has returned to familiar territory. Just as Life of Pi drew inspiration from a 1981 allegory by a Brazilian author, and The High Mountains of Portugal investigated the chimera of faith versus science, Son of Nobody employs Greek myth to explore the human condition. In each instance, Martel blurs the line between artifact and artifice, which leaves the reader wondering, as the old commercial went, "Is it real, or is it Memorex?" Here, Martel utilizes a split narrative structure, a layout I found to be a shocking waste of page space, to present a "translated" Greek myth on the top half and a modern human story, told through footnotes, on the bottom.

My knowledge of the Trojan War comes largely from contemporary novels rather than classical texts, so I cannot vouch for the scholarship behind Martel's treatment of the Epic Cycle. However, I can attest to the thrilling drama he creates around Psoas (pronounced "so as"—a linguistic wink), who is neither a god nor a hero, but the son of a goatherd. Through him, Martel argues that history is frail and subject to interpretation. Readers like me, who regret their lack of a classical education, may fear they are being led astray, while those with deep knowledge may feel affronted. Regardless, the execution is superb; it was a pleasure to be invited to consider love, war, and grief alongside the great ones.

At this point, this book is a Did Not Finish for me. I used to be a literary fiction snob--no HEA for me, or quirky detectives, or space alien angst. I like gritty, worldwide politics and huge moral ethical dilemmas. So I should have been all in for this one. I loved Atonement and Amsterdam and Chesil Beach and Solar and a few others of his. But this book, at this time, was a non-starter. He is sneaky as he reveals little bits of important info (where are we? When are we? What happened?) and for someone who counts on setting as a foundational element of enjoyable fiction, I was pissed off almost all the time while reading. And so many words that went nowhere! So much story about nothing! I do not care about these people at all. McEwan is at his erudite best and I had to look up stuff all the time to find out if his literary bon mots were real or made up, If you care about sonnets and coronas, and climate change, read this. Sorry I am such a dolt. I'll keep plowing through, though.. I hear the second half is better.

I've been thinking about corporate surveillance. I've also been worried about wildfires in Los Angeles. It's not because I'm watching the news. Oh no, it's because I've been reading this book. Remember what Benjamin Franklin said about liberty and security and deserving neither? It turns out it is misquoted, by the way, but the concept is apropos of this story.

In it, Sara is detained at LAX because her "risk score" has just exceeded 500. Protecting the populace from school shooters or violence due to political derangement is taken to a new level here, and everybody, through their social media accounts and data scraped from their smart kitchen appliances, is routinely analyzed by artificial intelligence (and data doesn't lie). She is "retained" for 21 days to protect her family and becomes trapped in a nightmare of a bureaucratic algorithm that should be familiar to all of us who have to "stay on hold," "press 2 for …" or text with a chatbot.

This book does not take place in the future. It feels like now. It is a fascinating, painful, essential, well-written read.

Swashbuckling is not really my thing, and I don't know the difference between a sloop and a frigate, a weather deck, quarter deck or poop deck, but Captain Thomas Grey's adventures on the high seas had me rather captivated, after I got over the author's penchant the use of multiple subordinate clauses. Mayhap he imitates the speech of the fine gentlemen of whom he writes?
In The Montevideo Brief, third in the Thomas Grey series, as an agent in His Majesty's Secret Service, he is tasked with intercepting Spanish frigates loaded with treasure to fund an alliance between France and Spain against England. In the first, Hold Fast, he goes undercover (to avenge his wife's unfortunate death from a French shot to the bow of an English ship), and in the second book in the series, Captain Grey's Gambit, he attends a chess tournament in Frankfurt in order to assist a French defector, who, at the last minute, decides he can't leave without his daughter.
In this book, he attends Beethoven concert, plays court tennis, is captured by pirates, and runs through a bedroom, tosses a gold brick to a French prostitute, and asks her to spend it well.
The action never stops, and the chapters are short and end in a cliffhanger. (He does, once, actually, hang from a cliff.) Jack Reacher meets Rudyard Kipling? Or James Bond meets Patrick O'Brien.
J. H. Gelernter knows history, especially the Napoleonic Wars, during which all three books occur. His historical note confirms the authenticity of his characters and storyline. I learned about sailors' toasts (to the ships at sea!) and all manner gentlemanly rules of conduct. Ahoy, come aboard and sail the high seas. Grey will be headed back to Gibraltar, where he will report to an American named James Madison.

If you grew up as I did, long after it was considered necessary to learn Greek and Latin to be well educated, you might think, as I did, that you missed out on a huge bit of Western literary background, and feel ill equipped to follow an obscure aside regarding Greeks and gifts, Pandora's box, or the touch of King Midas. On the other hand, all those wars…boring, right? Well it's a new day in the Classics, and the women are taking center stage and redressing their bad reputations. Circe was redeemed by Madeline Miller, the women of Troy by Pat Barker, and now, Ariadne, by Jennifer Saint. You will get the inside story of how, Ariadne, daughter of King Minos of Crete, helped Theseus kill her brother, the Minotaur and, well, look it up if you want the whole story before you read the novel. You'll get to know Theseus: a hero or a jerk? And you'll find out why there are so many paintings of her lying on the beach, alone, or with Dionysus looking lovingly over her. Ever heard of Phaedra? She's Ariadne's brave sister, and you won't believe where she ended up. The book is written formally, as if it were a Greek chorus, telling of wise and wonderful things.

There are women and there is salt in this story, or should I say stories. The structure reminds me of a shawl I am knitting. It’s made of leftover yarn, so there are strong stripes of bright colors against rows of bland timeless yarn which are woven in by chance and happenstance. The stories of these generations of women are the bright stripes. It is made of moments that became momentous. These stories, like the lives of the five generations of Cuban and two of El Salvadoran women told here, could have been so much more. Their lives, and this book, fell short of potential.
She knows the geography of her topics. Cuba, Miami, the borderlands of Mexico and the Rio Grande, and even the terrain of Jeannette’s descent into addiction are depicted with beautifully wrought detail. The writing is uneven, but in places, gripping. It is the secrets that the women kept from each other and themselves that are unfortunately kept from us as well.
Garcia takes us places we need to go. Cuban history is checkered with violence and bravery. Central American immigration is also violent and brave. Tell us more, Gabriela, I’ll go back with you again in your next book.