The Holiday

I love, love, love this movie. It is about four people, each with their own problems and imperfections, who find out who they really are and thus find true happiness during a Christmas holiday.

Cameron Diaz plays a movie trailer company owner in Los Angeles who has just found out her live-in boyfriend is cheating on her. She's mad, she throws things, she socks him, but she doesn't cry.

Kate Winslet plays a journalist in London who writes about weddings, and has been in a hopeless, three-year relationship with a co-worker. He has just announced his engagement to someone else who works in the same office.

Jude Law works in the book publishing business in London, and is involved in meaningless one-night stands.

Jack Black is a movie music writer who has a girlfriend of a few months.

How all these people come together and change one another's lives is the 'plot' of the film. The women do a house exchange for the Christmas holiday which is how Diaz and Law get together, and Winslet and Black become friends. Another very important, and inspired, character in this film is an old Hollywood screenwriter played by Eli Wallach. I don't think I've even seen him in a finer role. He is subdued and subtle and thoroughly loveable. He and the Kate Winslet character form a quick, yet firm and lasting friendship which emboldens both of them.

That's about all I want to say in case you haven't seen it. I wouldn't want to spoil this really wonderful story for you. I'll just add that I think I'm a little in love with Jack Black when he plays a calm, romantic character. Of course, I think he is superb in movies such as High Fidelity and The School of Rock but I think Hollywood should offer him more of these toned-down sorts of roles. And Jude Law is as beautiful as ever in this film, and his character such an appealing one. Kate Winslet is utterly wonderful in the role of a woman who just can't get herself out of this 'toxic, twisted' relationship. And Cameron Diaz hasn't cried since her parents broke up when she was a teen. You bring these personalities together, played by actors who truly make the characters come to life, and you've got a terrifically entertaining and enlightening movie.

Oh, and the Cotswolds' house is my perfect home. It was manufactured specially for the movie. The outside, the setting, and the rooms are my ideal. I pause the dvd just to look at the shelves and dishes and tables and lamps and books. I so love it.

A little PS:

There is one more thing I'd like to mention. There is a little homage to one of my all time favorite movies, A Man and A Woman. The writer, director, and producer Nancy Meyers offers a playful short scene with the Diaz and Law characters. There are no words spoken but he picks her up and swings her in his arms; she is wearing much the same coat as the Anouk Aimee character, and even has the same hairstyle.

Baked French Toast, recipe two

I made this yesterday for a breakfast-at-night supper, and it was fantastic.

Baked French Toast

Cut bread into 1-inch squares; enough to cover the bottom of a greased 9 x 13 pan.

Lightly beat 2 eggs, 3 Tablespoons sugar, and 1 teaspoon vanilla.
Stir in 2 1/4 cups milk.
Pour over bread, turning pieces to coat well.

At this point, you may stop, cover, and refrigerate over night, if you wish.

Preheat oven to 375º F.

Combine 1/2 cup flour, 6 Tablespoons sugar, 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon (optional).
Cut in 1/4 cup butter until mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

Scatter 1 cup blueberries and/or strawberries (this time I used just strawberries) over the bread.
Sprinkle with the crumb mixture.

Bake about 40 minutes until golden brown.

I heated some maple syrup and poured it over the top. Out of this world delicious! You may see another 'Baked French Toast' in the recipes on the sidebar, but this one is a little different. I enjoy them both.

Three more days to sign up for the giveaway if you are interested!

Canine Christmas Cards

This is the card Margaret and her boyfriend sent out.
Lexi on the left, Piglet on the right.

This is the card we sent out. Ben on the left, Sadie on the right.

An Irish Country Christmas by Patrick Taylor

60. An Irish Country Christmas - third in the Irish Country series
by Patrick Taylor
fiction, 2008
library audio cd
unabridged, read by John Keating
finished, 12/15/09








Time is the oddest thing. As I listened to this really terrific story, I was reminded of when I first watched on PBS, and then read, the James Herriot stories. I thought to myself that this could be the same kind of heartwarming story for Northern Ireland as All Creatures was for Yorkshire. And then, (this is where time comes in) I realized that when I first learned of the Herriot books it was the 1970s and his tales are set in the 1930s. So, I was looking back forty years. And then I realized that this book is set in 1964; forty-five years ago. And the part that astounds me is that I was 16 years old then! Is this possible? I don't think so. I think it has to be some kind of trick time is playing on me.

I had never heard of Patrick Taylor's books until I happened to see this cd at the library. He is a very good writer, and this book is filled with details of the village, Ballybucklebo and its inhabitants, and the work of country doctors during this time. This one has a Christmas theme, with the younger vet, Barry Laverty disappointed that his girlfriend, Patricia may not be coming for Christmas. The older vet, Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly (named for Oscar Wilde), wonders if he can reconnect with a woman from his youth. The housekeeper in this book is Mrs. Kincaid, who takes care of the house and the meals, and the men, as well. A serious concern in An Irish Country Christmas is the arrival of a third doctor in the area. Are there enough people to support three doctors? And then they begin to hear of some very odd treatments the new doctor is offering. A woman nearly dies because he hasn't dealt properly with her situation. Though this is the third book in the series, I didn't find it hard to follow. I was completely charmed by the setting, the story, the Irish lilt in the excellent narration. I've now begun the first book in the series.

You may visit the author's website and read about the books, the area, the dialect.

Don't forget to sign up for the giveaway if you are interested!

Simply Corn Muffins

Not too long ago, I bought myself a new cookbook. I am a big fan of cornbread and corn muffins, and this book offers all the information I could ever want to know about them. And it is told in a cheery, fun manner. The author has a blog, and on her sidebar you may find out how she got her name, and a list of all her other books. She is the daughter of the children's author, Charlotte Zolotow.



This is the first recipe I made from the cookbook, and I will make it again and again. These were wonderful.

Simply Corn Muffins

1 cup unbleached white flour (I used half white, half whole wheat pastry)
1 cup yellow cornmeal
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 1/4 cups buttermilk (I used regular whole milk)
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
2 eggs
1/4 to 1/3 cup sugar (I used 1/3 - why not?!)
1/3 cup melted butter

Preheat oven to 400º F.
Spray a 12-cup muffin tin with cooking spray.
Combine the flour, cornmeal, salt, and baking powder in a large bowl, stirring well. Set aside.
Whisk together the buttermilk and baking soda in a medium bowl until the baking soda is dissolved.
Whisk in the eggs, sugar, and melted butter.
Stir the combined wet ingredients into the dry until the mixture is just barely combined.
Spoon into the prepared muffin tin.
Bake until golden brown, 15-20 minutes.

Don't forget to sign up for the giveaway if you are interested!

Giveaway!

On my blog anniversary, I wrote that there would be a giveaway at a 'less busy time of the year.' I decided not to wait because I thought it would be fun to offer during the holiday season.

So here's my idea! I would like to give a gift subscription to Bookmarks Magazine.

The only thing is that I cannot afford to offer it to my dear readers from Canada or across the oceans because the cost to the former is $10 more and the cost to the latter goes up $30! But, I have a way around that little problem. If the name drawn is from someone not in the US, then what I'll do is send you my copy when I finish with it. Yes, it will be a month or more late, but I don't think that will matter to the bookish among us.

Because there are six issues in a year's subscription, you have SIX days to leave a comment. On the day of the winter solstice, December 21, I shall draw the winning name. If this giveaway interests you, please leave a comment on any post on any day saying you would like the subscription. If you don't mention the giveaway, I'll assume you either already subscribe or that it doesn't appeal to you.

Again, the dates to leave a comment are December 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, and 20.

Mrs. Malory and the Festival Murder by Hazel Holt

59. Mrs. Malory and the Festival Murder (British title - An Uncertain Death) - fourth in the Mrs. Malory series
by Hazel Holt
mystery, 1993
finished, 12/10/09




In this Mrs. Malory book, a thoroughly unpleasant man is killed, and everyone wonders how and why and whodunnit. But the mystery is the smallest part of these books for me. Here are some snatches from the Festival Murder that will give you an idea of this book, and a flavor of all the Mrs. Malory books.

The high-spot of any stay in a hotel for me is the Full English Breakfast. At home I rarely have more than a slice of toast and a cup of tea, but when I'm away I always go the whole hog. This particular morning my plate was deliciously full of bacon, egg, tomatoes, mushrooms, black pudding, and fried bread and I sat and contemplated it with satisfaction.

Time passed quickly, as it always does in the summer months - it's extraordinary how slowly time passes in the winter...

In the taxi going to Paddington, though, I realized that I had done it again. I'm always very early for everything, not just punctual, but very early indeed. It is something I have passed on to Michael [her son], something, he maintains, that has shortened his life. "The time I spend waiting about, Ma," he says, "I could have not just read War and Peace - I could have written it!"

No one can be lonely with a houseful of animals.

... I stuffed clothes into the machine, secure in the knowledge that I could now say to myself that I had Done the Washing (this is a form of conscience-salving every woman is familiar with) and could now go out and potter round the shops.

Though these mysteries would definitely be categorized as cozy, they are not simple. They are very well-written. The people are complex. The crimes are not pretty, though they do happen, as they say, 'off-screen.' They are all one could wish for in an English village mystery.

Quote du jour/Virginia Woolf

Secondhand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack.
Virginia Woolf

Cornflake Cookies

Cornflake Cookies

Beat together well:

1 cup soft butter
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla

In a separate bowl, mix:

1 1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cream of tartar

Gradually add dry ingredients to butter mix.

Stir in 1 1/2 cups cornflakes.

Add 1/2 cup nuts, if desired (I didn't).

Drop onto greased cookie sheet about two inches apart (cookies will spread).

Bake in preheated 350º F. oven for 12-15 minutes.
Makes around 30 cookies, depending on size.

This is a first-time recipe for me, and I loved the cookies. They are quite chewy so if you don't like that quality, you could probably crush the cornflakes before adding them to the batter.

Christmas Remembered by Tomie dePaola

58. Christmas Remembered
by Tomie dePaola
nonfiction, 2006
second reading
finished, 12/4/09





I discovered Tomie dePaola when my children were little. We spent wonderful hours reading together and I marveled over both his stories and his artistic genius, but what struck me most in each of his books was his heart. The man has a heart as big as the sky and it comes through in his characters, his stories, and his illustrations.

It just so happens that Tom's parents live in the same town as Mr. dePaola, and are acquaintances. One year they went together on a group tour to Provence. That same year, Tom's parents gave us his then new book, Christmas Remembered.


Christmas Remembered gives the reader a deeper, more grown-up appreciation of Tomie dePaola. The concept is fascinating, and one I've not read before: he reminisces about various Christmases in his 'seventy-plus years.' Each chapter covers a different Christmas season. One of my early favorites is the year he got art supplies. He was eleven, and had been saying since he was four that he was going to be an artist when he grew up. 'Everyone had believed me.'

I loved reading about Tomie dePaola's childhood in Meriden, Connecticut. He grew up in a happy family with a brother and two sisters. I had a feeling of a time gone forever as I read the stories of his young life. There was a local candy store where he worked one Christmas season. There was a 'Christmas sing' at the high school. The school chorus went caroling around the city. His parents, Flossie and Joe had an 'open house' every Christmas Eve.

All the neighbors came, as well as my parents' friends and family from all over Meriden and Wallingford. The drinks were served in the half of the basement my father had fixed up with booths and a genuine bar. "Just like a real nightclub, Floss and Joe," everyone said.

One Christmas he writes about was the first one they had a television set, and all the people they knew, and many they didn't, showed up to watch the Joe Lewis/Jersey Joe Walcott fight, live from Madison Square Garden.

His first Christmas away from home, he went shopping in New York City, and got his mother a handmade silver heart pin.

I guess that was the very beginning of my love of the heart as a personal trademark.

If you look carefully, you'll most often find a small one in each of his paintings.

I don't really have a favorite among all his Christmas memories, but I do love one that he spent at Weston Priory in Vermont. At twenty-two years old, he was a Benedictine novice, and was part of a little miracle that happened there.

His Christmas in New Mexico was very different from anything I've ever known, and so, so lovely with poinsettias everywhere, and its tradition of Las Posadas, a walk around the Plaza in Santa Fe in which Mary and Joseph look for a place 'where the Child could be born.'

This is a really special book, and has become one of my Christmas favorites. I've said it is more for adults than children, but the author says at the start:

I have tried to be as honest as I could with everything in this book, including the holiday eating and drinking in my family, but if you want to read this to your children, grandchildren, or your classes, feel free to "edit" or omit the drinking spots.

Coming from an Irish-Italian family, we always had "spirits' in our hearts, our life, and in our glasses.

As Hilaire Belloc said, "Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine, There's always laughter and good red wine. At least I've always found it so. Benedicamus Domino!"

Bringing in the tree

For a long time after we moved to this country home, we trekked out into our woods in search of a Christmas tree. Every time, we came back with a 'Charlie Brown Christmas tree' - a tree with branches few and far between that drooped when we put ornaments on them. One year I said, this is it. I want a Christmas tree that is thick with branches, and ever since we have bought our tree from a local tree farm. Usually we just get them off the lot, but this year Tom went out and cut one down so it would be fresher and not drop its needles so quickly. The smell in the house is amazing. We always, always get a balsam fir. Isn't this the essence of Christmas in a way? We always put the tree in the same place. We always use the same kind of lights. We always bake the same kind of cookies. There is something so reassuring that come December, we can count on something being the same year after year. This is why the season is so sad for those who have had a serious change in their lives. The first Christmas after my father died, my mother put up white lights outside instead of colorful ones, and it nearly broke my heart: both the change and what it represented. Tom was just telling me last night that he remembers a Christmas coming home from college, and being so disappointed to find all new lights on the tree. I sometimes dream of just white lights or even no decorations and leaving the tree as it is in its simple beauty. But, no. Not at this stage of my life. I still want the comfort of the familiar, the timeless.

The Ties of Christmas

For my contribution to the 2009 Virtual Advent Tour I decided to spotlight Tom's Christmas ties. He is a 7th and 8th grade English teacher, and his ties are always a great source of interest in the classroom.

The Christmas tree tie in the middle belonged to Tom's late grandfather. You may see above that it is shorter than the others. They must have worn them that way in his day.

This is the tag on the back of the tie.

Alfred E. Newman from Mad Magazine, one of Tom's favorites when he was a kid.

The ties run the gamut from a sedate blue one of Christmas presents wrapped in white ribbons to a wild Santa and reindeer and penguins(??).

I'm quite fond of the multi-Santa tie, and the musical instruments with red bows.

The twelve days of Christmas was a gift from Tom's aunt. I love this one.

And then, the queen of the ties is this one made for Tom by one of his students years ago. This girl was only 13 or 14 then, and she must have spent hours on all that beadwork. She is now a teacher herself, and still creates art.

Remember the fun of opening a window or door each day on an Advent calendar? Well, reading the daily entries on the Virtual Advent Tour is a bit like that. And just as the calendars vary greatly in their design, so do each of the Advent writings. Some are remembrances, some are recipes, some are music. I have found the site to be a lovely way to begin each day during this Advent season.

And now they're all gone

Liam Clancy died on Friday.

This has long been my favorite Makem & Clancy song. May all the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem be singing together again in Heaven.

A Rumpole Christmas by John Mortimer

57. A Rumpole Christmas
by John Mortimer
fiction, 2009
finished, 12/2/09






What a pleasure for fans of the late John Mortimer to have this collection of Rumpole Christmas stories. I don't know if the author planned for their publication or if someone else decided to compile the themed tales for this first Christmas after Mr. Mortimer's death. They were published in various places between 1997 and 2007. The titles are:

Rumpole and Father Christmas
Rumpole's Slimmed-Down Christmas
Rumpole and the Boy
Rumpole and the Old Familiar Faces
Rumpole and the Christmas Break

Horace Rumpole is such a wonderful character. He is very much a 'what you see is what you get' sort of person. He doesn't change. He's who he is. He sees the worst side of people, and often is the man defending them in court, yet he is still cheerful, and gets great satisfaction from his simple pleasures: his wine -

I filled our glasses with Château Thames Embankment. His Lordship drank and pulled a face. "I say, this is a pretty poor vintage, isn't it?'
"Terrible," I told him. "There is some impoverished area of France, a vineyard perhaps, situated between the pissoir [look it up!] and the barren mountain slopes, where the Château Thames Embankment grape struggles for existence. Its advantages are that it is cheap and it can reconcile you to the troubles of life and even, in desperate times, make you moderately drunk.

his Christmas celebration -

Christmas was not usually much of a "do" in the Rumpole household. There is the usual exchange of presents; I get a tie and Hilda receives the statutory bottle of lavender water, which seems to be for laying down rather than immediate use. She cooks the turkey and I open the Château Thames Embankment, and so our Saviour's birth is celebrated.

and his food -

... bacon and eggs with sausage and fried slice

He is one of those rarities: a happy, contented man who doesn't think about his life. He simply lives it.

I'd read only one of the stories before, but really I can read any Rumpole story or book over and over again and receive the same deep pleasure every time. I love the character as if he were a real person. From what I've read about John Mortimer, he was a bit like Rumpole himself: a man who was who he was. A man with warts he didn't try to hide. A man who loved life. As his daughter, Emily Mortimer wrote:

He had caused plenty of trouble in his life, but he died wishing he could have made some more. Morally, my dad was at best naughty, at worst selfish and in his own words 'greedy.' If he were ever to have been psychoanalysed, it would have been decided that he had all sorts of hang-ups and 'issues.' But as it was, he got away with it. He was always being let off the hook, for the simple reason that he was the best company in the world. People who live life like there's no tomorrow are famously good company. But the ones who are also bright, funny, kind and original are just plain killer.

May John Mortimer rest in peace, but still be having a good time wherever he is now.

Kay's Fudge Cake

The batter

The finished product

Tom's birthday is in a couple days, and we are celebrating this evening at the home of Margaret's boyfriend. I've had this recipe for eight years. It came from my friend Kay, so I call it:

Kay's Fudge Cake

Melt one cup of butter.
Add 1/4 cup cocoa and 6 Tablespoons water.
Stir well.

Pour over a mixture of 2 cups flour and 2 cups sugar.
Add 1/2 cup milk.
Add 2 lightly beaten eggs.
Add 1 teaspoon vanilla, 1 teaspoon baking soda, 1 teaspoon cinnamon.

Beat well for a few minutes until very smooth.

Bake in greased 9 x 13 pan in preheated 350º oven for 25 minutes.

5 minutes before the cake is done:
Melt 1/2 cup butter.
Add 1/4 cup cocoa, about 3 cups confectioners sugar, 6 Tablespoons milk, and 1 teaspoon vanilla.
Mix well and pour over cake right out of the oven.

This is a wonderful chocolate cake!

Hercule Poirot's Christmas by Agatha Christie

56. Hercule Poirot's Christmas
by Agatha Christie
mystery, 1939
finished, 11/29/09





I wonder how many people open an Agatha Christie book for the first time expecting a light, cozy, uncomplicated little mystery. I think I used to view her work that way. I've read enough now to know this isn't so, yet each time I begin a new one I am surprised at the depth of human emotions she portrays, and how she doesn't shy away from complex individuals and situations. Hercule Poirot often is the only touch of humor and warmth in the stories in which he is the sleuth. Here is an example:

"Nothing like a wood fire," said Colonel Johnson as he threw on an additional log and then drew his chair nearer to the blaze. ... Cautiously he [Poirot] edged his own chair nearer to the blazing logs, though he was of the opinion that the opportunity for roasting the soles of one's feet (like some medieval torture) did not offset the cold draught that swirled round the back of the shoulders.

Colonel Johnson, Chief Constable of Middleshire, might be of the opinion that nothing could beat a wood fire, but Hercule Poirot was of the opinion that central heating could and did every time!

In Hercule Poirot's Christmas, also published as Murder for Christmas and A Holiday for Murder, we are in a country house with a heavy atmosphere of tension and pain. Simeon Lee is a widower with many children. Some are estranged, some are the children of his late wife and some are the children of other women. One lives at home with his wife. He is the dutiful, uncomplaining son and his father treats him poorly. It hurts his wife immensely to see the way her husband takes this punishment. Not all the sons do so, however. One left after his mother died because he hated his father for the way he treated her. Another son roams the world on money given to him by the father. And the other son is a politician. After years and years of not being under the same roof, the father invites them all for Christmas. In addition to the men and their wives, Lee invites his late daughter's child, a young woman he has never met. And a young man turns up at the door, the son of Lee's former partner from his days in South Africa in the diamond trade.

Well, you put all these people together with their various resentments and hatreds and you just know there will be a murder. The father is killed; 'throat cut like a pig. He bled to death in less than a minute.' It is up to Hercule Poirot, who just happens to be visiting a local policeman, to solve the mystery. This is a particularly interesting story which kept me guessing right up until the surprise ending. Another great book by Agatha Christie.

Agatha Christie, A Reader's Companion by Vanessa Wagstaff & Stephen Poole offers a picture of the terrific first edition cover, with the words:

The striking first-edition jacket of Hercule Poirot's Christmas with a bright red cover gruesomely suggestive of blood.

Christmas is Murder by C.S. Challinor

55. Christmas is Murder - first in the Rex Graves series

by C.S. Challinor

mystery, 2008

finished, 11/26/09





I've often longed to spend Christmastime in England. And what could be better than an old country house which has been turned into a hotel? And a snowstorm that keeps the guests inside by the cozy fire with a library full of books? Ah, a dream come true. Except if the other guests start dying off (and not in the same way). And because of the snow the bodies must stay in the house. And the worry that you might be next.

This is the story in Christmas is Murder, a first mystery with Reginald (Rex) Graves who is a Scottish barrister. He happens to be invited to the house for Christmas because the owner is an old friend of his mother's. He spent some time here in his childhood. It was a wonderful home in those days, but since then it has had to be turned into a hotel because the husband died. The mother is in mourning for her son, a soldier who died in Iraq. She resents being a hotel owner, and has no sign out front. The only guests must be invited by her. I suppose that way it feels less like an ordinary place where any old person can put down their money and have a room for the night.

This book offers one of my favorite features of a mystery story: a list of characters right at the beginning so the reader can go back and see who's who.
According to the author's website, there are two books following this one. I look forward to them. I want to know more about Mr. Graves, and I want to find out if he is still in touch with a certain woman he meets in this book. He's a quiet, kindly man who drives a Mini Cooper (Les!) and smokes a pipe, and is a wonderful new addition to the mystery genre.

Calendars from the past

This morning the oil man came, and I found between the doors not only the bill, but also a 2010 calendar. It got me thinking about my childhood when our house was full of calendars given out by local businesses. I don't ever remember my mother buying one. I'm so happy to still have two of these old calendars with her well-remembered handwriting.

This one came from the drycleaners, in the days when the dry-cleaner man stopped by the house to pick up and deliver the week's cleaning. It had just one little picture glued in at the top with these words beside it. As the months rolled on, there were informational pages for each one.



Here's a closeup of the February 1963 page. You may see a faint circle around my 15th birthday, and that I noted an upcoming haircut. It's hard to believe that's my handwriting since I have printed for so many decades now.


And then there were the mostly one-function calendars, like this one which came from the milkman. Those are my mother's words on the side: August 1 - Apron to guild sale.


On these pages were written the deliveries for each day. In this leap year, on the 29th, my mother bought '3 qt m and 1 pt c' - 3 quarts milk and 1 pint cream. And she had just bought 4 quarts of milk and 1 pint of cream two days before. Ah, the days of milk drinking! Well, we still do drink this much but most people don't. Each month had a page of recipes, of course all calling for milk products, along with milk information.

about two thirds of our butter is made from milk produced in months when the cow's feed is largely green grass. This summer butter is extremely rich in Vitamin A value. Its full flavor and food value are retained in refrigerated storage for winter use in every delicious way.

And here's the one which arrived today. Though the photography is modern, it is still quite typical. If you live in New England, you often get a calendar with photographs from each state. This is one thing which hasn't changed much over the years.


Nowadays, this is the only calendar that arrives at our house. For a long, long time I've thrown it out in favor of calendars of English gardens or Irish scenes or dogs or Susan Branch, but this year I'm feeling a little wistful and nostalgic and I think I'll keep it. I'll still put up my Susan Branch calendar by my desk but I think I'll put this one up in the kitchen as a reminder of the days when my kitchen was the heartbeat of my childhood home. The calendar, the wall phone, the memo pad were all together keeping track of milk deliveries, and haircuts, and dropping that apron off at the guild sale.

After I wrote this, I found myself thinking of a post which Beth did. Although it isn't about old calendars, it is about remembrance and family keepsakes. If you haven't already read it, you may find it here. It is really very special.

The Dogs of Riga by Henning Mankell

54. The Dogs of Riga - second in the Wallander series
by Henning Mankell
mystery, 1992
translated by Laurie Thompson
finished, 11/20/09





Three little things that make me love the books by Henning Mankell:

I love the inclusion of weather. It is a character. It is important. The first words of The Dogs of Riga are:

It started snowing shortly after ten a.m.

I also love a book that says:

It was less than a month since his friend and colleague had died of cancer.

And I love a book that tells you the date when the story begins: February 12, 1991. Let's see, my kids were eight and five on that date. I was thirteen days from turning forty-three years old.

Kurt Wallander is not one of those arrogant, know-it-all policemen. He is not perfect. He makes mistakes and feels remorse about them. In this story, there's an inflatable life-raft that two murdered men were found in. It ends up being stolen from the basement of the police station.

He realized the fatal error he'd made. Nobody had let the air out of the rubber boat, nobody had looked inside. It had not occurred to him to do so. ...Wallander felt embarrassed. How could he have failed to open the raft up? He would have thought of it sooner or later, of course, but he ought to have done it straight away.

And a little further into the story, when he has gone to Latvia:

I'd forgotten that I'm in an alien world.

A measure of real talent in a series writer for me is when the second and further books do not follow a prescribed formula. The Dogs of Riga couldn't be more different from Faceless Killers. Our hero is in a different place, with completely different concerns. We learn more about who he is and his feelings about his home country, Sweden. I am so pleased with Mankell's writing. I feared that I might not enjoy this book as much as the first because the translator is different, but it was just as good, and again, did not feel like a translation.

This book reminds me (as if I needed a reminder) how very little I know about certain parts of the world, like Scandanavia, Eastern Europe, the former Soviet Union. What I know, I learned from Michael Palin in his journey, New Europe. If you are interested, please do visit his website. You may now read this, and all his other books online. There are also wonderful new paperbacks of each journey. And the dvds are at Netflix.

The Dogs of Riga begins two years after the Berlin Wall came down, and because it was actually written in that time, there is an immediacy to the story that is makes it very exciting.

The life-raft I mentioned is the catalyst for bringing Kurt Wallander to Latvia. There he finds a world in tumult. Just as in all the Cold War spy stories the setting is dismal, the people duplicitous, the gap between rich and poor huge. He ponders the conditions there, and thinks a lot about his own country.

This is Sweden, he'd thought. Everything is so bright and cheerful on the surface, our airports are built so that no dust or shadows could ever intrude. Everything is visible, nothing is any different from what it seems to be. Our national aspiration, our religion, is that security is written into the Swedish constitution, which informs the whole world that starving to death is a crime. But we don't talk to strangers unless we have to, because anything unfamiliar can cause us harm, dirty our floors and dim our neon lights. We never built an empire and so we've never had to watch one collapse, but we persuaded ourselves that we'd created the best of all possible worlds, and that even if small, we were the privileged keepers of paradise.

Whew! I look forward to seeing if, and/or how, this opinion changes over the course of the series.

The 'dogs'in the title are symbolic; they are a metaphor for the spies who are everywhere. Who may he trust? Who is telling the truth? What is the truth?

I so enjoyed this book. I liked learning about this time and place in history. I am fascinated by the character of Kurt Wallander. I love this series.

Addendum: you may read about present-day Riga here.

My gggenerator!

As almost always happens if it snows a lot or the wind blows hard, we lost power about 8 pm last night, but this time we were prepared! After our last power outage, we finally bought a generator. The extension cords come in the window and one goes down cellar to the freezer and another goes to the refrigerator. And the nifty thing about the refrigerator one is that occasionally we can unplug it for a little while, and use that power for the television or for the computer. That's why you've seen three posts from me this morning. We've always been fortunate in that we have a spring which means we have water when the electricity is off, and the woodstove to keep us warm, but now we also have the sweet, sweet hum of the generator that is keeping our food cold and safe.


And because the song is now in your heads: