Address Unknown is a very slight book. It is told in letters between Max Eisenstein in the US and Martin Schulz in Germany, and begins in 1932. They are business partners, and friends, both have fond memories of Germany, where Martin is originally from. And both seem to start out with similar beliefs and politics. But then comes the rise of Hitler, and where Max sees cause for alarm Martin sees a chance for humiliated Germany to rise up. Continue reading →
When I first started reading this book I’ll admit to being a little bit confused. It was group read, for HistoricalFavorites, where was the history aspect. I kept waiting for flashbacks to old Salem and witch hunts. But instead I got the story of Towner Whitney and her family, and how the past is always around, especially when you try to ignore it.
Many of the Whitney family have the gift of reading lace, they can tell a lot about a person and their future, but ever since her sister committed suicide Towner has tried to escape that life. She herself suffered so much from the trauma of that experience that she felt she needed electro-shock therapy in order to overcome her anxieties. But that treatment ripped away many of her memories; now, back in Salem after her aunt’s disappearance Towner is forced to reconnect with people; friends and enemies from her past.
For a lot of this book I really really liked it. I never quite loved it; but for a while I did really enjoy it. The writing is great. And the premise was interesting. But it just didn’t work in the end. And I think that one of the major problems was that the character who makes this big decision, well, I just didn’t get why she made it. And I really didn’t understand why other characters went along with her. That wasn’t the only problem, it just meant that I was less forgiving of the others Continue reading →
published in the US as Little Bee ISBN: 0340963409 Most days I wish I was a British pound coin instead of an African girl. I picked this book up totally on impulse. It was one of the large print books … Continue reading →
ISBN: 0553148923 really wanted to like this book. How could I not, the synopsis from the back cover makes you want to start reading it: Still Life with Woodpecker is sort of a love story that takes place inside a … Continue reading →
It’s funny. I’ve never read any books by Justine Larbaleister but I read her blog and when she recommended My life as a rhombus I guess I was feeling in a suggestible mood because I ordered it right then. And I’m glad I did; its a good solid read, engaging enough to make me delay setting out for the train last Friday evening until I finished it. Course then I had to reread the last chapter because I’d skim-read so much of it.
From the new glass bridge which spanned the inscrutable waters of the Grand Canal, the tram purred downhill and glided gently into the heart of the city.
It was the opening of this book that persuaded me to buy it. The way Ní Duibhne pokes fun at that certain class of Dublin people. It made me smile, but because I knew that there really are people who think that way. Or at least there used to be, now with the demise of the Celtic Tiger maybe there are less of them than there once were. Continue reading →
ISBN: 9781846551420 I am not the sort of man who goes to prostitutes. Well, I suppose that every man would say that. People would disbelieve it just because you felt you have to say it. I’m quite a fan of … Continue reading →
Things started to fall apart at home when my brother, Jaja, did not go to communion and Papa flung his heavy missal across the room and broke the figurines on the étagére.
Kambili, the teenage narrator of the book, is a 15 year old girl. In many ways she lives a priveliged life in Nigeria. Her father owns factories; he is a “big man” in the community. A fact that is brought home to her when she visits her less well off aunt and cousins. But wealth doesn’t equal happiness. Kamibili and her brother Jaja live under the strict rules of their father and his fiercely religious beliefs.
ISBN: 9780312426293 The old man sits on the edge of the narrow bed, palms spread out on his knees, head down, staring at the floor. Carl was kind enough to send me this book; one of the prizes from his … Continue reading →
