KimberlyFish

Books that have lingered on my nightstand

It’s been a while since I’ve posted to this blog–okay, months–but life has interrupted my reading schedule and I haven’t lingered over a good book recently–except a coffee table book entitled, One Writer’s Garden about Eudora Welty’s Mississippi home and garden–but that treasure is unique. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve started, but not finished, (read into that what you will) Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (because I’m going to Savannah soon and wanted to read the definitive book,) Dolci di Love (because I’m going to Italy later this summer and wanted to get psyched for the trip,) and The Immortal life of Henrietta Lacks (because my husband is a pathologist and I thought this would give me a glimpse into his world.) All in all, I’m left hungry for a good story. Thankfully, I stocked up recently at Barron’s so maybe there’s a delightful story in my future.

Two Very Different Novels

This week I finished two very different novels. One, by my friend, Lisa Wingate, was a delightful treasure box of quirky people, old mysteries, and new found hope–all bound by the lovely little community that lives in fictional, Moses Lake. Blue Moon Bay was yet another delicious read and one I can whole-heartedly recommend to friends who like faith mixed in with their fiction. If Blue Moon Bay was a glass of ginger ale on a warm afternoon, the other novel, When She Woke, was a shot of whisky. Straight. HIllary Jordan retold the classic Scarlet Letter in a futuristic setting that felt a lot less futuristic than you might think–it was spookily current except for the whole color chroming done to a human to identify their sin. Though faith factored heavily into this novel, it was the kind that questioned everything and came to its own conclusions based on surviving horrible circumstances. Ms. Jordan is as evocative a writer as I’ve read in a long time and I doubt I will soon forget Hannah and her journey.

The Beach Trees

Karen White’s novel, The Beach Trees, was the PERFECT book for a rainy Sunday. I read this story from cover-to-cover buried under a faux fur blanket, in front of a crackling fire, with Earl Gray tea and Bischoff cookies on the table. Yes, nirvana is possible. But you probably want to know more about Karen White’s novel. (For the record is was almost 11 pm before I’d finished this book and my husband had turned off the lights in the rest of the house and long since doused my fire as it was going to cost a fortune when the gas bill came in–his words, not mine. Apparently nirvana isn’t cheap.) This is the fourth (?) book of Ms. White’s that I’ve read, and it’s moving to the top of the list of  favorites. She is a master of words, and plot/subplot, and place. I usually have to stop after the first page and go through the 12-step program of envious writers because I don’t think I can ever write as well as she does, but I’ve digressed. Karen White weaves a complex tale of fractured human emotion with a heavy dose of Southern mystique that each time I turn the last page to questions resolved, hearts healed, and houses restored, I want to rush back to my deep Georgia roots and hang on to the nearest oak tree I can find. The Beach Trees is no different, in that a house and mysteries are front and center here, but she writes this novel from the perspective of people rebuilding (and why they would) after devastating hurricanes on the Gulf Coast. And the crazy thing is, not being from the Gulf Coast, after reading her novel, I can still smell the air and feel the humidity of her settings. This story has so many elements of art, history, dysfunction, and restoration that it is a treasure trove of details and setting. Give this book as a gift to yourself. You won’t regret it nor will you have to exchange it in the after-Christmas sales.

The House on Oyster Creek

This is hard for me to admit, but there was a book I just could not finish. Even though it came highly recommended, I didn’t even have enough interest to read ahead a few chapters and see if things improved. Is it me? Or is that I just didn’t care a fig for the characters. I’m beginning to seriously question the NYT Bestsellers List.

I’m going to post some titles, one day soon.

Sorry for the delay in posting recommendations about books I’ve read. It’s funny, but reading things on Kindle has changed my format for remembering stories. Being a visual person, I can often remember a favorite novel, by picturing the book/cover, the heft of the binding, and the pages dogeared in between reading sessions. E-books are a total fail in multiple sensory impressions. That being said, I have read some great books lately, I’ll just have to trail through my e-reader’s title list to remember what they were. Be back soon with titles.

The House on Tradd Street

This is the second novel by Karen White that I’ve read, and I’m already voting her to the top of a short list of authors who have a lyrical command of language, sentence structure, and pacing. The House on Tradd Street, was different from Folly Beach in the sense of the paranormal component, but her ability to instantly drop a reader into a dysfunctional family abyss is consistently perfect. The House on Tradd Steet was so engrossing I read it in between managing my chores in a recent family estate sale. Being a closet Charlestonian, I LOVED her ability to weave the city and its mysteries into the story as effortlessly as if it was a waft of espresso. And the architectural element of an old house, haunted by secrets, tragedy, history and diamonds was too good to let go of, even after I’d turned the last page. Funny enough, my favorite character wasn’t the main one–it was her heroic, wounded writer Jack. He might need his own story. If I do nothing else this fall, I’m going to read another Karen White novel.

Georgia’s Kitchen

The title to Georgia’s Kitchen, by Jenny Nelson, is also a big clue to the heart of this charming and delicious story about a top-notch NYC chef whose life gets tossed through a food processor. The three phases to this story (I call them Manhattan,Tuscany, Manhattan) play out a bit like three course meal and every bite is rich, chewy, and seasoned with just the right amount of salt –and sugar. I read the bulk of this novel on a lazy Sunday afternoon and highly recommend it to anyone needing needing a fun diversion.

Folly Beach

Karen White’s novel, Folly Beach, lovingly weaves multiple stories together with mystical tenderness of loss, bravery, and the unanswerable question of when has grief worked its course. Two different time periods (1940s and 2009) and two significant plots run concurrent in this novel set in a sweet little beach town near Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina. It’s a credit to Karen White that she manages to knit the characters, the emotions, and the secrets into one big carpet of family graces. I found this story to be memorable, charming, and poignant. I’ll definitely search for more of Karen White’s stories.

Ten Beach Road

“You don’t really know what your made of until things fall apart.” Madeline Singer

This quote from one of the three main characters in this beautifully written novel, Ten Beach Road, sums the whole plot into one sentence. Three women, total strangers to each other, wake up to find their lives–which were already on the brink of disaster–completely fall apart courtesy of a financial investment that could have been ripped from yesterday’s newspaper headlines. Their only resource is an old Mediterranean Revival mansion, named Bella Flora (that name sings in my memory,) on the coast of a Florida. Choices, questions, and the decision to pull together to renovate the mansion create the ultimate “Survivor” episode. And just when things look like they might turn around, they don’t. This story is sooo good, soooo rich with character, and soooo well-written–thank you, thank you, Wendy Wax– that I stayed up late night after night when I needed my beauty sleep. This will go down as one of those books I blurt out when someone casually asks, “read any good books lately?”

Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky

I’m not sure where I bought this book, it had been sitting in my TBR pile for the whole summer, but the title intrigued me as I had no idea that two people would be friends–or as the back cover provides, lovers. This was a novel written by a screenwriter after the movie had already been produced–so, it read like you might imagine a movie playing out. Not an easy accomplishment and imminently readable. Though I’ve never been a big Coco Chanel fan, I do love classical music and read with interest the ins and outs of Paris life in the early decades of the 1900s. Those were weird times and Chris Greenhalgh covers them with finesse and detail. Coco was a self-made success story (to the detriment of her character and relationships) and Igor was a conflicted–and married–genius. I learned a lot about the mystique of Coco Chanel and the creation of her infamous perfume #5. And I also saw a modern-ish glimpse into the world of funding for the arts. This novel spans a relatively short period in the lives of two dynamic and famous people, but the additional timeline at the end, put a lot of things in perspective–namely how a person’s character is an unrelenting barometer of their behavior and how choices made have long-lingering consequences.