The Scent of Secrets by Jane Thynne
World War II spy thriller, light on the thrills, starring
a half fictional half-British actress who loves Germany, but hates what the
Nazis are doing to it. Her profession
allows her access to the high echelons of Nazi society, which she uses to
gather intelligence. Of course, there
are a couple of brief romantic entanglements, some nail-biting, and the British
agent who got away. Overall, enjoyable
if not overly complicated.
The Knockoff by Lucy Sykes and Jo Piazza
More light fair for the beach. This too-good-to-be-true heroine is a
fortyish magazine editor whose former assistant returns to the magazine to be
the mean-girl-in-chief. Totally
unbelievable, first that a fortyish magazine editor could be so technologically
challenged, and second that the psychotic assistant could manage to manipulate
everyone so effectively when she is clearly insane. However, it is fun to read about the rich and
privileged and imagine what life would be like if all your problems could be
solved so easily—and you always had the perfect outfit and the perfect
hair. It definitely doesn’t live up to
the hype, but consider it a guilty pleasure.
Palace of Treason by Jason Matthews
Sadly, I found this disappointing. It was billed as a spy thriller with lots of
plot twists and turns. Written by a
former field agent, I was expecting grit, puzzles, analysis. What I got was a bunch of spies falling into
bed with each other and claiming that the infidelity didn’t matter since they
were serving a greater good, or some such rot.
I am supposed to feel sympathy for the main male character who cannot
keep his trousers zipped up?
Please. If I wanted to read about
that, I would have picked up a classic Ian Fleming novel. The only reason I finished it was so I could
write a scathing review. I will not be
fooled into reading Matthews again, former agent or no. If this is really what the CIA is up to, no
wonder we never know what is going on.
The Truth and Other Lies by Sascha Arango
Finally, something edgy, clever, and not the least bit
condescending. The unreliable narrator
will keep you guessing until long after you close the book. When we meet Henry, he is in the midst of a
crisis. His mistress is pregnant, but he
likes being married to his wife, who incidentally, is the author of all the
books that have made him a famous author.
What’s a fellow to do? Read the
book and find out. You might be
confused, but you won’t be disappointed.
The End of Men and the Rise of Women by Hanna Rosin
A nonfiction selection that I picked up because of the
title. I thought is seemed a little
confrontational. The text is less
so. Ms. Rosin posits that women are
doing better than men in the new economy and that feminists have yet to
acknowledge or see it. I have a surprise
for her; I have yet to see it either.
There may be some women at the top end of the spectrum who are doing
better, but most of the women I know are still struggling to make less than
men, doing more housework and childcare than men, and have less free time than
men. I don’t know, maybe if you are
under 30 and have a “big” career, but for most of us regular women, I
doubt. However, she does have some
interesting ideas about the future of marriage and family, which are worth
reading about. She does a good job presenting
her evidence, and the title is not really indicative of what the book is
about. It is not a “down with men”
manifesto, but rather a thoughtful account of the changing nature of gender
roles and how we are all adjusting to the new normal.
Circling the Sun by Paula McLain
I read this because I loved The Paris Wife, McLain’s last
big novel. I loved this one less. First of all, I found the leading lady, Beryl
Markham, much less appealing. Her willingness
to have an affair with Denys Finch-Hatton while she was supposedly friends with
Karen Blixen made her completely anathema to me. I know we don’t have to always like the main
character, but in this case, without liking her, or really any of the other
people in the book—her mean-spirited husband, her “friends” who were all
spoiled debutantes and dandies, there wasn’t really much to hang my hat
on. At least I could root for Hadley and
hate Ernest. In Circling the Sun, I didn’t
care whether she crashed the plane or not, I just wanted the insipidness to
stop. Needless to say, I was extremely
disappointed in this one, both because I had read and liked this author before,
but also because I had been led to believe by other reviewers that this was a
great read. Not so much.
The writing was beautiful, but I couldn’t enjoy it
without a good story.
