Books Completed Since November 1

I confess, I ran out of time with Christmas prep. So these reviews are not what I would like.

 H is for Hawk, Helen Macdonald
I'd recently seen the Nature special based on this book, and since it was there, tempting me on my to-be-read pile, I obliged it.

Macdonald's father taught her everything to do with birdwatching, particularly patience, and especially to love the beautiful raptors that soared overhead. But suddenly, devastatingly, he died, and Macdonald was thrown into a tailspin. To honor her father and work through her grief, Macdonald adopts the most fractious of the hawk family, the goshawk, a female she names Mabel, inspired in her choice of birds by the hawking manual written in the 1930s by T.H. White, author of The Sword in the Stone.

Part nature diary, part story of the conflicted and imaginative White, and chiefly an emotional catharsis, this is brilliantly written, but be prepared: Macdonald is driven to rock-bottom by her father's death, and her depression and despair is tangible and sometimes terrifying. It is difficult to get through many of the passages. However, if you can make it through the emotional roller coaster of the narration, you will be well rewarded.

 Bryant & May: Wild Chamber, Christopher Fowler
Whew. In the past few novels we've been fearful of Arthur Bryant's health problems spelling the end of the teamwork of detectives Bryant and May and indeed the Peculiar Crimes Unit itself. But with Arthur on the mend, they're thrown into a new mystery: the seemingly inexplicable death of a woman walking her dog in the park. But before we join the mystery, there's a seemingly unrelated flashback to open the novel. Or is it?

So what did happen to Helen Forester? Did her estranged husband kill her? Or was it the gardener in the private park in which she was dog walking? Or even someone else, as they can't identify what instrument she was strangled with? And did we mention that the Met is trying to shut them down again? And that there's a sinister political plot mixed up in all this?

It's the usual mix of Bryant's wild theories and May's deductive reasoning, and the contributions of the Unit, and, in this outing, a history of London's green spaces and parks, and a plot development that will make you go "Yay!" I love this crew of misfits and this newest book did not disappoint.

 Tru and Nelle, G. Neri
They met when Truman Persons was seven and Nelle Lee was six; he was so neat and clean she thought he was a girl and she was so grubby he thought she was a boy. Nevertheless Tru and Nelle (the future Truman Capote and Harper Lee) became fast friends, and, together with Truman's cousin Jennings, a.k.a. Big Boy, they played games and invented adventures in the tiny town of Monroeville, Alabama.

Based on Jennings Faulk's memories, Neri recreates life in a small Southern town during the Depression, where we meet Nelle's beloved father "A.C." and Truman's best friend, his cousin Sook. And when Nelle, a bookworm just as much as Truman is, resolves to raise her new acquaintance's spirits after a rebuff from his father, she turns him into Sherlock Holmes, herself into Dr. Watson, and challenges him to solve a town mystery.

This is a fun book, especially if you've read anything about Lee's and Capote's friendship as well as To Kill a Mockingbird, but I wonder if modern kids are even interested in the kids' imaginative capers. Since there's a Christmas sequel out, I guess so!

 Paper, Mark Kurlansky
While the title is "paper," most of the narrative is devoted to the development of the book, but it took a while in coming. Writing came first, on clay and wax tablets and other hard surfaces, next plants like tapa and papyrus were glued together to make sheets to write on, and finally parchment was developed from animal skins (it still reigns supreme in printing circles; your printed college degree may be called "your parchment," and fine stationery still speaks of parchment paper). As radio was supposed to ruin children for reading, and television for people using their imagination, writing down things was considered detrimental to memory, as previously stories, sagas, and facts were passed down orally from generation to generation.

The first creation of paper, as Kurlansky admits, is unknown. It appears to have originated in China, then passed on to the Muslims (who used it to write a great deal about food). He then chronicles its spread around the globe, different paper-making methods, but mostly how paper was incorporated into books (but also used for calligraphy and artwork).

Really, how could I have not bought this book? It's about two of my favorite things in the world. Completely enjoyed the trip around the world following...yeah, I'll say it...the paper trail.

 The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell
I picked up a trio of Gladwell books at a book sale, and chose this one to read first. Gladwell explains why some events snowball into bigger events while some die a'borning. For instance, the Wolverine company was going under until a group of Greenwich Village denizens started wearing Hush Puppies and created a fad market once more for the shoes. An epidemic in Baltimore occurred after public clinics in the city closed. He explains that these "tipping points" involve three things: the Law of the Few, the Stickiness Factor, and the Power of Context, and then continues to illustrate examples to back up his theory.

I have to admit, I thought this was interesting, but didn't carry away anything from it. Perhaps I'll like the other books better.

 The Inheritance, Charles Finch
Right after the new year, Charles Lenox hears from an old schoolmate, Gerald Leigh, who as a boy hated their school, Harrow, but nevertheless Lenox had formed a friendship with the odd classmate. As students, the two boys had tried to solve the mystery of the bequest that sent Leigh to school. Now Leigh is in London, asking Lenox if he can look into a mysterious inheritance he has been notified of. But Leigh never shows up at the Lenox home to meet him, and he is not at his hotel. And, to his surprise, Lenox learns that his former miserable classmate is now a renown scientist.

When they do find Leigh, they find out he was hiding out from being pursued, and soon after, the solicitor that informed Leigh of the inheritance is killed. Lenox and his team, of course, will figure out what happens, but it may come at a dreadful price.

Complicated entry in the Lenox mystery series, but I was particularly amused by Gerald Leigh, who strongly resembled a certain other Gerald who was famous as a scientist and naturalist (Lenox even calls him "Gerry" at one point). A relationship that has been building in the series is also brought to a new level.

 Cancelled by Murder, Jean Flowers
In this second "postmistress" mystery, Cassie Miller, the postmaster of North Ashcot, in the Berkshire mountains, battens down the hatches like the rest of the town as the last remnants of a hurricane strikes the area. Following the storm, sad news emerges: Daisy Harmon, a local shopkeeper, was killed by a falling tree.

Except, as the police find when they finally extract Daisy's body from the tree limbs, there was foul play involved. Knowing she cleared up an earlier mystery, Daisy's husband Cliff asks Cassie if she will look into the death.

There's nothing special about these stories, but they're a nice amiable series with an intelligent protagonist and none of the goofy eccentrics that sometimes show up in these small-town mystery stories. (Yes, I'm talking about the 1940s bookshop ghost series written by Cleo Coyle.) The chief of police is a woman, which is another nice touch, and in this entry she does accept Cassie's help. And I really did not suspect the person "whodunit."

However, again there's a cat on the cover of the novel. There's no cat in the story. What goes? Does every cozy mystery have to have a cute little animal mascot?

 The Happy Hollisters and the Ice Carnival Mystery, Jerry West
In this entry of the 1950s children's series, the Hollister kids have embarked on new adventures, traveling with their grandparents to see the famous ice carnival in Quebec, Canada. The kids have promised their parents that they will help their grandparents locate a gift their father ordered for the kids from Canada, a cariole, a French Canadian sleigh. They have adventures even before they get there, with their donkey Domingo disappearing before they leave (yes, if you know these books, it's who you suspect that caused that event) and Grandpa's car getting stuck in the snow on the way there.

Once in Quebec, there's snow, French-Canadian history, more snow, cultural lessons, runaway sleighs, a trip to an island, even more snow, and an exciting boat race (among other things!) to come as Pete, Pam, Ricky, Holly, and Sue enjoy a breathtaking winter holiday.

 Re-read: National Velvet, Enid Bagnold
Mother bought me my first copy of Velvet, a paperback "Tempo" book, long before I saw the MGM movie (but after I'd watched the two-season American television series of the same name which had very little to do with the book). It was rather a challenge: Bagnold wrote the book in the 1930s, using the slang and vocabulary of the 1920s, and she didn't write it as a children's book. But instead of being turned off, I was intrigued: what was kedgeree? What did "coo lummy" mean? and I galloped through the classic story of the butcher's daughter and her winning a horse for a shilling in a raffle and then racing the horse in England's greatest horse race (actually a steeplechase), the Grand National, not caring that I knew nothing about British money, gymkhanas, and why the heck spawn would go on a tin tray.

In fact, I was rather disappointed when I saw the movie, although I understand why they couldn't do the whole book: four sisters instead of three would have just been crowded, and the horses Velvet inherited would have cluttered up the plot (although you can see if you've experienced both novel and movie that the Pie in the film is colored more like Sir Pericles and one of the sentences movie Velvet uses to describe the Pie is originally used to describe Sir Pericles). The Pie in the book isn't a pirate, he's a piebald, Velvet is a blonde, and Mi has pretty much always lived with the family. More importantly, in the book Velvet always intends to ride the horse in the race; there is no last minute substitution. It's real "girl power," especially with Mrs. Brown's presence.

Like Velvet in the National, take the challenge. Look beyond the vocabulary and the old customs and take the ride of your life.

 Re-read: Murder on the Orient Express, Agatha Christie
Remember the star-studded movie that came out based upon this book? No, not the recent one with Kenneth Branaugh and his astonishing moustaches, but the earlier one with Albert Finney and Lauren Bacall. It was about that time I made the acquaintance of Christie and her precisely beautiful English murder mysteries. This one has the added advantage of taking place aboard the romantic sounding "Orient Express," which traveled from the Middle East through eastern Europe and into France, and during a snowstorm, with a train full of exotic passengers, all of whom are not what they seem.

One of the best Hercule Poirot novels ever. If you're tired of cozy mysteries involving people running quaint little stores assisted by an animal mascot, a dip into Christie may be your cup of tea.

 Undeniable, Bill Nye
I've always liked Nye as "Bill Nye the Science Guy." But I was really disenchanted with this book. Nye apparently wrote it in an effort to convince people who think creationism is king to accept evolutionary theory. But he does it in such a patronizing manner that even I was irritated, and I believe in evolution. Plenty of scientific fact here presented in a breezy style, but to me the underlying theme apparently was "you drip, you're an idiot if you believe that Biblical crap." I appreciate that for too many years Nye has probably had to use simple language to get across to Christians who really, really do believe the earth is less than 6,000 years ago, but did he have to do it to all of us? Not keeping this one.

 The Nature Notes of an Edwardian Lady, Edith Holden
This is actually a "prequel" to Holden's acclaimed Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady that became so famous when Upstairs, Downstairs (the Downton Abbey of the 1970s) became popular. As the Diary was for 1906, the Notes are for 1905. Again, this is a charming combination of poetry, Edith's diary entries, and her extraordinary watercolors of plants and animals, the only difference being that, due to Edith's handwriting only being sketched in in this volume, much of the poetry and entries are in type rather than in Edith's distinctive script. However, her lovely artwork is all here. Perhaps a bit less polished than the first book, but a trip back to the past.

 Dallas 1963, Bill Minutaglio and Steven L. Davis
This is an ugly book.

Not because of its writing, but because of the ugly truths it exposes.

Dallas was a place filled with racial hatred in 1960, and the politicians and important town fathers did their best to fight the tide of liberalism sweeping through the city at the time of the John F. Kennedy election. Chapter after chapter will make your teeth grit hearing about the things that were done to keep the Democrats from being elected and also to keep African-Americans from gaining full civil rights. It's frightening, sickening, and infuriating. You can't help but keep reading, but wish you didn't have to. Rewarding, but sobering.

 Grace Sees Red, Julie Hyzy
With her duplicitous sister in jail and her relationship to Bennett Marshfield confirmed, Grace Wheaton looks forward to doing something interesting with her share of the Marshfield fortune. When Amethyst Cellars, the wine store run by her good friends Bruce and Scott, is threatened because the building it's in is condemned, Grace thinks this might be her cause—until she gets a frantic phone call from Frances, her co-worker. Apparently Frances—who has spent much time helping Grace solve mysteries—is now the suspect in a death at an elite nursing home, where—surprise!—she goes to visit the last person anyone would expect each week.

A change-of-pace setting for the usually Marshfield-bound stories and a great cast of supporting characters, and a surprising twist for usually uptight Frances.

The only problem with this book: That last line! Oh, no, not again!

Books Completed Since April 1

 Sergeant Stubby, Anna Bausum
This is the second time in four years I've discovered a new book based upon information I read first in a children's book published in the late 1950s, so it amused me a bit to see this book publicized as the "first time" Stubby's story is being told. Sergeant Stubby, a stray Boston terrier (or possibly Boston mix) who wandered out onto an Army training field in 1917, became the mascot of the 102nd Infantry and accompanied "the doughboys" to Europe. While in service, he was gassed and also physically injured in an attack. Stubby's story (and also the story of Snowman the jumping horse told in The Eighty Dollar Champion) was told in Patrick Lawson's More Than Courage, published by Whitman Books.

Much of Bausum's story of Stubby and his "handler," Robert Conroy, and their experiences in World War I is that of conjecture, as Conroy kept no diary. However, after the war, when Stubby was welcomed home to as much acclaim as the men he served with, Conroy did keep a scrapbook, and much of that information is happily firsthand. Bausum does a super job of describing Stubby's and Conroy's world in the 'teens: the pre-war U.S., the world of the training camps and the trenches, the endless mud and disease and the very real terror of being killed or maimed, the horror of gas. There is also discussion of just what breed of dog Stubby was, as he has been described at various times as a pit bull, a bull terrier, or some other bully breed.

Since this year marks the 100th anniversary of the outbreak of the first World War, Sergeant Stubby is a lively and painless way to review the American experience during the event by following an affable dog and his devoted owner, and the book is scattered with vintage war illustrations, and photographs and ephemera from Stubby's scrapbook, plus a close-up of his famous jacket with all its ribbons and medals.

Note to Ann Bausum: if you don't want to drive every Bostonian (and possibly every New Englander) who reads this book mad, please correct the typos in the "Stateside" chapter which refer to the Boston "Commons." It is the "Common," singular, and has never been "Commons." Ever.

 Stuff Matters, Mark Miodownik
I loved this book.

I'd never heard about "material science" when I went to school, but biology left me cold, chemistry was absorbing in the laboratory, but the mathematical portion of the course was over my head. Needless to say, after that, physics was out. :-) But earth science I loved, and I would have loved a course on material science, especially if Mark Miodownik was the teacher. I found myself smiling as I read the science behind the everyday things in our lives: concrete, steel, paper, glass—even chocolate—and the most enjoyable part was that his prose was illuminating and the scientific concepts were clearly explained. Instead of being puzzled by the concepts, I found them completely understandable. Perhaps, for people who are more science-oriented it might have been simplistic, but I found it fascinating, especially the chapter about the silica aerogel.

Miodownik has an easygoing writing style that I really enjoyed, reminding me of Bill Bryson and James Burke. My only problem with this book is that I wish it could have been twice as long! I'll be looking forward to his next book, especially if concerning the same subject.

 My Gentle Barn, Ellie Laks
Ellie Laks spent a difficult childhood in a home and with a family she found distant and uncaring, and she almost always felt like an outsider at school. Her only solace was with her dog and other animals that she befriended. She felt animals spoke directly into her heart. Her early adult years were troubled as she met a man who got her into drugs. Finally she broke away from drugs, married, and had a child. But animals in distress still called to her, and for some time she ran a dog rescue. One day she adopted a sick goat from a badly-run, abusive petting zoo. Over the years she collected more creatures from the same petting zoo and realized what she really wanted to do was run a shelter for abused animals. This is her story of how her dream came true and she founded The Gentle Barn, a refuge that also helps neglected children.

This is an inspiring story, although it's sad and ironic that Ellie neglected her first husband, who didn't plan on having a backyard full of rescued creatures occupying all of her time, the same way that she talks about parents neglecting her. I'm rather surprised he didn't abandon the marriage earlier. The fact that animals "talk" to her without speech and tell her their names sounds a bit farfetched as well, the bottom line is that The Gentle Barn does special rescue work, and the children who visit the farm, victims of abuse, are helped emotionally by hearing the stories of and tending these animals. It's a story of long days, hard work, heartbreak, and a person who rises above emotional troubles to help others. Animal lovers especially will enjoy.

 I Thought My Soul Would Rise and Fly: The Diary of Patsy, A Freed Girl, Joyce Hansen
Patsy has lived on the Mars Bluff plantation belonging to the Davis family all her life. Since she has always been lame and when she speaks, she stammers, everyone—or at least those who are not close to her—thinks she is stupid. She must complete the most boring chores day after day, appropriate for someone considered slow-witted. But Patsy's stammer hides a quck mind: she has taught herself to read and write by observing the white children's lessons. Now that the Civil War is over, what will happen to the plantation slaves? Their former masters are supposed to give them land and build them a school, but they're pretending as if nothing has happened. Some of the former slaves even want life to remain the same.

There are two stories here that meld into one: the story of the dilemma of the slaves themselves about their futures and the story of Patsy, who comes into herself as an individual and as a person who has formerly been beaten down by criticism who suddenly finds she has talents to share. From the "dummy" of the plantation, Patsy becomes a teacher her friends can depend on. A nice, solid story of real-life plantation life (not the romanticized pap of the last century). According to the sticker, this book won a Coretta Scott King Award.

 Edison and the Rise of Innovation, Leonard DeGraff
This is a marvelous coffee-table type volume chronicling Thomas Edison and his inventions. While Edison's biography is briefly touched upon, and his first invention (a stock ticker) and lesser inventions are commented upon, the book mainly chronicles Edison's most famous innovations, the ones that changed peoples' lives, including the phonograph, the long-lasting electric light bulb (Edison did not invent the first electric light bulb; arc lights were in use for many decades earlier, but they threw a harsh light and were expensive—what Edison invented was an inexpensive light bulb that most people could afford to use in their homes), motion pictures, portland cement, storage batteries, and rubber, plus a look at his laboratories, which were the innovation centers of the time.

The most wonderful thing about this book are the beautiful illustrations throughout: modern and vintage photographs of the inventions, workshops, and people involved, and illustrations of Edison's notebooks, vintage advertisements, newspaper stories, patent illustrations, engravings, and store displays of Edison products. It's a virtual museum of historical objects and persons to make any history buff drool. If you're interested in the age of invention, this is a great bet; those looking for a detailed bio of Edison will need to look elsewhere.

 Birdmen, Lawrence Goldstone
At the turn of the century, not only the Wright brothers dreamt of the sky. From Otto Lillenthal and his wings to Octave Chanute, Augustus Herring, Samuel Langley, Louis Bleriot, and the man the Wrights considered their greatest rival, Glenn Curtiss, men on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean wrestled with the problem of heavier-than-air travel. Birdmen chronicles the steps—and often mis-steps—in the efforts to fly.

I have to be honest; it's my husband who's the aviation buff, but I've been to so many aviation museums with him I've taken a liking to the early aspects of aviation, including ballooning and the career of the Wright brothers. I thought this book would be more enjoyable than it was; it's a very knowledgable, but I also found it very dry, especially the parts devoted to the Wright brothers' efforts to slap lawsuits on anyone who seemed to be copying their patented wing-warping innovation. The book is at its best when it chronicles the groundbreaking flights and the dismal failures, the air races, and the structural innovations. The legal aspects are otherwise rather tedious.

 A Brief Guide to Star Trek, Brian J. Robb
As someone who bought Stephen Whitfield's The Making of Star Trek when it was published back in the late 1960s, the question might be "What could yet another book say about this series that you didn't know?" Rather a lot, actually, as it's not just about the original series, but all the spin offs, the films, and the reboot. Since we got bored with Voyager in second season, Enterprise after first season, and missed great chunks of the last two seasons of DS9 because of its broadcast time (and because, up against Babylon 5, there really wasn't much choice which one we would watch regularly), we also missed a lot of what went on with the various series, and it was nice to read a wrap-up, and such things like the Voyager cast's criticism of the show's shortcomings, examinations of what worked and what didn't in Enterprise, and other later tidbits were interesting. There's a surprising lot of Trek information packed into this small book.

 Tales of the New England Coast, anthology, Castle Books
It literally took me years to buy this book. I first saw it way back in the late 1980s in Oxford Too, the late Oxford Books' remaindered/used outlet, but always gave it a miss. But recently a one-dollar price tag changed my mind.

These are stories about New England taken from old magazines like "Scribners" and "New England Magazine," from the time period 1884 to 1910, ranging in subjects from fisher folk to historical sites like Salem, Massachusetts, and the Naval Torpedo Station in Newport, Rhode Island, to historical portraits like the story of the Boston Post Road and the stagecoaches that traveled it. In typical adult Victorian magazine style, the narratives are voluble and occasionally very dense. I was struck by the social snobbery of several of the articles, especially "Newport," which seemed to be primarily about the titled people who lived glittering lives in their summer homes, as if the ordinary citizen of the city wasn't good enough to write about.

The articles, however, make you think about how the country has changed in over one hundred years. It's not just the lack of modern technology, but the close-knit, often remote communities that existed back then. "Fisher folk" are discussed as if they are some alien breed of humans, and one article concentrates on the "characters" that exist on the Maine coast. Our society has become so homogenized we don't really have groups like this any longer, unless they are some religious sect.

In addition, there are dozens of black and white photographs of "how it used to be" in tourist areas like Martha's Vineyard, Salem, Block Island, Gloucester, Cape Cod, and Bar Harbor, showing lovely country views of places now covered with blacktop, billboards, and businesses. It will make you long to take a time machine back to the quiet beauty of these places.

 Elementary, edited by Mercedes Lackey
This is a second collection of stories based on Lackey's Elemental Masters novels, in which Air, Earth, Water, and Fire mages exist in an alternate Britain between 1890 and 1918. The short stories, however, have a broader range and take place from the Aztec era to Edwardian Britain, with the final tale, Lackey's own, in an indeterminate era based on the Red Riding Hood legend (a preview of her next Elemental Masters novel).

In general I liked this total collection better than the last, but the complaints I had in the first book still stand: several stories are just incidents rather than complete stories, such as "Feathers and Foundations," which is an anecdote about the Warders and the ravens at the Tower of London. Others, like "The Flying Contraption," involving a little girl and the Wright brothers, were just strange. I enjoyed "Fire Storm," although very little elemental magic moved the story. Then there was "London Falling," an interesting, but grisly, story that is a fictional follow-on to the true crime book Devil in the White City. "Air of Deception" is a new story about Aurelia Degard, apprentice parfumeuse, and one of the better entries.

Like the previous book, the cover was done on the cheap, using snippets from other Elemental Masters novels. Sad that the publisher itself doesn't even value these books.

 Dying in the Wool, Frances Brody
Kate Shackleton's husband disappeared in the carnage of the first World War and, in the four years since he was declared lost in action, Kate has developed a small talent for searching for missing persons. When a friend she nursed with in the Voluntary Aid Detachment asks her to take on a search for her father, the owner of a profitable woolen mill who disappeared in 1916 after having been rescued from a suicide attempt, she attempts to make a go of it professionally. Needing an extra hand, Kate employs John Sykes, an out-of-work police officer, and stays with her friend Tabitha in the weeks before her wedding to delve quietly into the mystery from the family point of view. And what she finds are plenty of secrets.

This is an English country mystery in the classic style, with an appealing, if not exactly sparkling protagonist, and a slow-moving, yet twisting narrative with a surprise or two around every bend. We get an interesting portrait of Britain in the 1920s, in which a woman driving her own car is a novelty, yet the period details don't overpower the story, and the woolen mill details are fascinating. Best yet, Kate and John's relationship is refreshingly unmarred by sexual tension. If you're looking for a fast-moving modern-style detective novel, this isn't it; if you enjoy cozies alà Christie, it may be a perfect fit.

 Call The Midwife: Farewell to the East End, Jennifer Worth
This is the third and final book in Worth's trilogy based upon her career as a midwife in London's dockland slums. This time Jenny, Cynthia, Trixie, and Chummy as well as the Sisters of Nonnatus House must deal with an unmarried girl whose delivery will be as much a surprise as it is for the midwife, the amazing story of a pregnant woman where no woman should ever be, and the identical twins Mavis and Meg who prove formidable when the former is expecting. Sister Monica Joan continues to prove mercurial, and we finally see how Chummy meets and courts her policeman. Worth also provides grim stories about tuberculosis that runs in families and back-alley abortionists; in a lighter note, a chimney cleaning and a birth combined prove a sooty operation.

While the stories about the midwives and the nuns are as lively as ever, I think Worth was running out of novel experiences for this final book, and it is padded out with extended stories about each of the mothers and children, plus some horrific historical facts, including the story of the abuses of the Contagious Disease (Women) Act. There is a welcome epilog to let us know what happened to each of the characters after the Docklands were cleared and Nonnatus House closed for good.

 The Prime Minister's Secret Agent, Susan Elia MacNeal
I'm tempted to call this outing "How Maggie got her groove back."

Margaret Hope, former American mathematician, now a British spy, is still recovering from her arduous mission in Berlin in which she discovered she had a German half-sister, confronted her mother (a Nazi spy), killed a man, and rescued her lover—who promptly dumped her when he found she'd turned to another man after he was declared dead. Maggie's now training spies in Scotland, where she struggles with depression, while her mother Clara, imprisoned in the Tower of London, slowly reveals a grisly secret. And then Maggie's close friend Sarah becomes critically ill after being accused of murder.

Frankly, most of this book isn't about Maggie at all, but about the machinations behind the attack on Pearl Harbor, from Dusan Popov's warning to J. Edgar Hoover about certain suspicious Japanese military movements to the fateful hours just before and after (you may be interested, or perhaps even a bit outraged, at who MacNeal speculates knew about the attack beforehand). In the meantime Maggie searches for the source of Sarah's illness (a mystery that takes a page out of an episode of Foyle's War; and I was amused that Porton Down was mentioned just after I had seen the episode of The Bletchley Circle that referenced this war location). Make no mistake, the multiple plotlines keep the pages turning, but there's a little less of Maggie Hope in this Maggie Hope mystery. Incidentally, MacNeal's anachronisms still jar: I don't think people referred to "the big picture" back then.

 A Coal Miner's Bride: The Diary of Anetka Kaminska, Susan Campbell Bartoletti
Thirteen-year-old Anetka lives in a Poland that has been conquered by the Russians, so she is understandably annoyed when a young Russian soldier begins flirting with her. But her lot seems thrown in with him when he, she, and her little brother head for America with steamship tickets provided by a man who works in a Pennsylvania coal mine with her emigrant father—the price of the tickets? Anetka must marry the man—and be mother to his three small daughters.

This is a vivid portrayal of the hardships of immigrants in the coal mining industry in the late 19th century. Anetka goes from a poor but bucolic rural environment to a filthy, rude, poverty-stricken life, living with a man she does not love, but whose children she does come to care about. The immigrants are hated by the American citizens who seem to have forgotten they were immigrants once themselves, who fear the "hunkies" will steal jobs from them, and they are cheated at every turn by the mine owners and foremen. The early activities of the Mine Workers' union play a role in the story as well, underlined by the very real specter of Anetka's loneliness.

The setting of this book was also appealing in that this was the situation my grandparents entered upon coming to the United States: from rural Italy to a coal-mining village in eastern Ohio. The romance is also very sweet.