The Fish, by Lloyd Jones.

 

            The fish is not a real fish.  The fish is the family nickname for him, because that’s what he looks like;  bulging eyes, thick lips and no neck – he’s slow, too – can’t spell for toffee, and this family prides itself on its spelling and its erudition in knowing the Latin origins of particular words, according to his teenage uncle, the narrator of Lloyd Jones’ transfixing novel. 

No, the fish is not Piscean, an ocean-dweller, but his family, regardless of the public front they preserve for the neighbours, wish that his mother, their youngest daughter (Older sister Carla is the glamorous one but she is modelling in Sydney), a teenage rebel in the 50’s well before it was fashionable  had at least known about birth control, thus preventing the birth of a severely disabled and disadvantaged child.  And she’s not saying who the father is.

            Regardless, the family rally around, trying to help the new mum who lives with her newborn in a battered caravan (‘I need my privacy!’) at a motor camp, but she doesn’t make a good fist of things, and Mum and Dad have to come to the rescue after the new mother overdoses and has to be institutionalised and rehabilitated.  The fish and his hapless mother come to live with the family, and his young uncle reluctantly assumes child-minding duties whether he wants to or not as the fish’s mother deteriorates further into self-loathing, despite the heroic efforts of her agonised parents who cannot prevent her inevitable destruction.  Fish’s mother doesn’t want to live.     

            It is now up to Mum and Dad to bring up the fish as best they can and, while he can’t write legibly (or spell) the fish proves unexpectedly clever and helpful in Dad’s scrap metal business, knowing with uncanny accuracy where everything is stored, and the price of everything:  it seems there is a useful place for him in life:  who knew it would be in the scrap metal business?  And who knew that more tragedy would ensue with the death of Dad from a heart attack caused by a breath-holding competition underwater with the fish one day at the beach:  the family reels from one tragedy to another, until good news at last:  glamorous model Carla visits (finally!) from Sydney, and makes a huge effort ‘to get to know’ her nephew, taking him for a week to the South Island – and returning on the overnight ferry ‘Wahine’ – on April 10^th, 1968, a day tragically engraved in New Zealand history when the ferry sunk in Wellington Harbour with the loss of 53 lives:  Carla survives, but the fish is never found.

            This is a tragedy of Shakespearian proportions, a tale of woe of a family where everyone has secrets and no-one is anything like the façade they present to the world – and so beautifully written.  Lloyd Jones is a master of prose.  His account of the ‘Wahine’ tragedy was powerful and mesmerising;  whether I wanted to be or not, this reader was right there with those who survived – and those who died, like the fish.  SIX STARS.     

 

Remember Me, by Charity Norman.

 

 

           Emily Kirkland’s comfortable life in London as a children’s book illustrator is changed irrevocably when she receives an absurdly early morning phone call from her father’s next-door neighbour – in New Zealand.  And the next-door neighbour is widow Raewyn Parata who, with her son Ira, Emily’s childhood best friend, runs a farm on the block next to Felix Kirkland’s. 

            Early morning phone calls seldom presage good news, and this is no exception:  Emily’s Dad has Alzheimer’s disease, diagnosed when he recently crashed his car and his symptoms were found to be more than concussion.  Could Emily return to Aotearoa to care for him for a little while, and to decide with her twin siblings the best solution for future care of their dear Dad, once a respected family Doctor in Tawanui, the small East Coast town to which the family migrated from England, and now suddenly a confused old man who doesn’t remember anyone.

            Fair enough.  Emily will do her duty.  She’ll stay for three weeks, long enough to ‘arrange things’.  She had never felt close to her father anyway;  he was always very remote from his supposed Loved Ones, preferring to give his respect and attention to his patients to such an extent that when his last child left home, Emily’s Mum left, too.  Yes, Emily will do her bit, but she is already looking forward to leaving her unhappy beginnings in Tawanui (before she has even arrived!), for her memories also include a very rare Cold-Case:  the disappearance of Raewyn Parata’s brilliant daughter Leah, who went walking in the Ruahine Ranges on a scientific exploration – and never returned.  Emily was the last to see her alive.  She does NOT want to relive those memories!

            But her father changes her mind.  Swinging wildly in behaviour between not recognising her at all, and in his attempts at normalcy revealing horrifying, long-kept secrets, Emily knows she must stay and care for him until HE decides his fate, despite huge opposition from her siblings who are screeching for Power of Attorney so that they can sell his property and shunt him off to the local rest home.

            Decide his fate he does, and that is what makes Ms Norman’s story so clever:  she writes in clear, beautiful, everyday prose of ordinary people trying to make sense of a disease that we all greatly fear – the horror of forgetting who we are, our very selves – and weaves a stunning suspense plot into the mix as well.  And sibling rivalry has never been so baldly portrayed.  FIVE STARS.    

                 

               

 

         

 

Kiss Myself Goodbye, by Ferdinand Mount.           Non-fiction

 

 

           That tired old adage ‘fact is always stranger than fiction’ applies beautifully here as British author Ferdinand Mount recounts the tempestuous life and times of his Aunt, Betty Mount, an extraordinary milker of every opportunity and lover of excitement – and men, for Aunt Betty’s husband Uncle Greig (his name was George but that name sounded SO pedestrian) was not the only man in her life.  Or her only husband.  In fact, she sometimes divested herself of her husbands with unseemly and, in several instances, illegal haste.  Aunt Betty was a bigamist more than once, and no-one was more shocked to discover this than Ferdinand and his sister Francie when he decided to delve into the family history and, thanks to the detailed birth, marriage and death records he consulted in the multiple countries associated with Betty and her family, he has produced a fitting and authentic account of an extraordinary woman’s life.

            Ferdinand and his sister were invited for holidays at his Aunt and Uncle’s  coastal residences, as company for Betty’s daughter Georgie (Ferdinand’s mother remarked unkindly that Betty went away one Christmas and came back with a baby) and, for a time, an adopted toddler daughter called Celeste whom everyone loved but had disappeared mysteriously and permanently by the time the next lot of holidays rolled around.  Despite renting every property they lived in, there was no shortage of money;  Unca and Munca (as they instructed the children to call them) also had the long-term rental of a suite at Claridge’s hotel – nicknamed The Pub, excellent accommodation when one attended a West End Musical, as they all often did.  Unca and Munca were always generous hosts, but there were some members of their family who were not as popular, like Buster, Munca’s supposed brother, who sometimes let his daughter stay during the holidays, but always seem to be in a bad mood and a hurry.  He was also known for his many marriages (seven) and riding a motor cycle on the Wall of Death.  Who could resist such a dashing relative?  Until research revealed that Buster’s origins were very different from Munca’s official story.

            As was Munca and her sister Doris’s true history, originating in the slums of Sheffield and ending in wealthy and celebrated comfort, thanks to Munca’s vague reference once to ‘my sugar daddy’.   Ferdinand Mount’s reminiscences of his feckless Aunt Betty – some of it in exhaustive and pedantic detail, is nevertheless a hugely entertaining record of a singular life, a life in which every risk was taken and opportunity seized, regardless of who got hurt along the way.  And there were so many who did.  FIVE STARS.        

             

 

The Mother, by Jane Caro.

 

            Miriam Duffy is a successful Real Estate Agent on Sydney’s North Shore.  She has a loving husband, two successful adult daughters, one of whom is the mother of a darling granddaughter.  Her cup should really runneth over – in fact, when Jane Caro’s dark and disturbing suspense novel opens, Miriam and her husband are at the wedding of their youngest, gorgeous Ally, to Nick, the man of her dreams.  They are tying the knot after a brief whirlwind courtship and, because Ally has always been a bit of a Drama Queen, Miriam is secretly pleased that someone else will now be custodian of all the teary tantrums:  her daughter has always been hard work, but Love should Conquer All, and Economist Ally is clearly thrilled to be a handsome, charming Vet’s wife, even if they do have to move to a nondescript little town in the Hunter Valley where Nick has found work at a Vet Practice.  Yes, the future looks rosy – and infinitely more peaceful!

            Until the family’s life is upended by the sudden, tragic death of Miriam’s husband and, as if that weren’t awful enough, Love hasn’t Conquered All in the Hunter Valley:  Ally has produced a beautiful baby boy but doesn’t seem to want her family to visit, or see the baby – until Nick calls Miriam and asks for her assistance.  He is frightened that Ally is having a breakdown, and needs help – which she certainly does, for three months after giving birth, she is pregnant again. 

            Miriam rushes to her daughter’s side, and is horrified by the change in her;  she obviously loves her little son but the honeymoon seems to be over with her husband and Miriam, a rampant feminist – and not a character I could warm to at first – starts to notice cracks in Nick’s charming, considerate façade.  He seems to be doing his best to convince people that Ally is mentally unstable to the extent that he sends her to a Psychiatrist, who arranges visits from a mental health nurse – who advises Ally that it is time she goes back home to mum before she gets killed!

            This is a take-no-prisoners story of domestic abuse, so prevalent in society, and so accepted;  Miriam’s eventual solution to her daughter’s heartbreak has far-reaching and terrible consequences, but if someone has to die, it won’t be her beloved daughter and grandchildren.

            Ms Caro has written a novel that everyone should read:  your family is not your punching bag.  FIVE STARS.

 

City of Ice, by Brian Klingborg.

 

          This would be a pretty standard Crime novel, were it not for its setting:  the People’s Republic of China, specifically in the North East city of Harbin, known as the City of Ice for its frigid winter temperatures.  And the place that young people flock to from the constraints of their country villages, where there is no work and certainly no fun;  where their families all still follow the ancient traditions of worshipping their ancestors, regardless of exhortations of leaders old and new to embrace the modern age.

            Inspector Lu Fei is the deputy Chief of Police in one such village, Raven Valley;  he has been sent there from Harbin by his Boss in the Harbin Police Department, ostensibly as a promotion but they both know that their enmity is the main reason for his exile:  jealousy and corruption flourish as always, regardless of whichever regime gains power – Communism has not altered people’s base emotions and as always, it’s not what one knows, but whom.  Well, Lu is one of the few incorruptibles in a department that has no place for him, hence his ‘transfer’.  There is nothing on which to test his formidable detecting talents apart from your common-or-garden chicken thefts, domestics, and drunk-and-disorderlies, so Lu’s life could hardly be regarded as action-packed – until the discovery of a young woman’s body at her late mother’s house, gruesomely murdered.  Yang Fenfang, aged 23, had come home from Harbin to arrange her mother’s funeral;  now she is dead, too, with heart, lungs and liver removed:  Raven Valley has progressed from sleepy backwater to notorious hideaway for a sick killer, and it isn’t long before Lu finds after careful checking, that there have been several similar crimes committed in Harbin.

            Brian Klingborg lived and worked in the People’s Republic of China for several years.  He has a prestigious MA from Harvard University majoring in Chinese Cultural Anthropology, so he knows whereof he speaks when he writes about PRC mores and customs, ancient and modern, on which his complex plot depends.  His characters are entirely credible and he has a nice line in humour just when it is needed.  I have to say that I did guess Who Done It about halfway through, but am willing to forgive that for the quotations from Chairman Mao which start every chapter, and the almost documentary explanations of the political and moral infrastructure in place in today’s modern China.  I hope we haven’t seen the last of Lu!  FIVE STARS   

 

We Are Not Like Them, by Christine Pride and Jo Piazza.

         

  

            Riley Wilson and Jen Murphy have been best friends since Jen was sent by her mother to Riley’s grandmother’s day care centre (a glorified name for their converted lounge) when she was very small – and Jen has always blessed her feckless mother’s decision (even though it was entirely a matter of convenience), for she was always treated as part of Riley’s loving family, an important part, a feeling entirely absent at home with her mother, who is anything but maternal, and proud of it.

            The fact that Riley is Black and ambitious – she is a television journalist and hopes to be News Anchor soon – and Jen is white and married to a member of Philadelphia’s finest, a city police officer – makes no difference to their regard for each other;  they will always be Besties, no matter what.  In fact, Riley has lent Jen enough money for one last crack at IVF:  Kevin has a low sperm count but now, Jen finally has a successful pregnancy.  The baby will be born in three months!  After many vicissitudes shared in the course of their long friendship, life is finally good.

            Until it’s not:  a shocking and terrible quirk of fate intervenes.  Police Officer Kevin and his new, inexperienced partner are chasing a criminal who tried to hold up a store; during their pursuit, Kevin’s partner sees a figure walking down an alley – and shoots.  His victim is a 14 year-old Black boy on his way home for dinner;  he made the fatal mistake of reaching into his pocket to turn off his headphones when the cop shouted at him.  Now, the worst has happened:  he lies bleeding out on the ground and the cops have realised that there is no gun.

            Riley is fortunate enough to eventually score an interview with the young boy’s grieving mother:  Jen is not so lucky.  She and Kevin are forced to leave their rented home and hide at his family’s house after people paint MURDERER on their fence and leave filth on their doorstep.  The trolls on social media are also unrelenting:  murder charges should be – will be laid – unless Kevin cuts some kind of a deal to throw his partner under the bus.  There are no winners in this awful tragedy:  racism and bias flourish as strongly as ever.  How can any friendship prevail against such innate hatred?

            Pride and Piazza, one Black, one white, have produced a mighty testament to America’s deeply troubled times.  They are not afraid to call out tokenism and hypocrisy, or question the ‘justice’ system (which was formulated by old white men), and they do it brilliantly:  this great book should be compulsory reading in every school.  SIX STARS.   

 

Wolf’s Lair, by Brian Falkner.  Katipo Joe series # 3

Junior Fiction.

 

          Once again, Brian Falkner takes us all on a dizzying World War Two ride with teen-age spy Joseph St George, embedded deep within the highest echelons of power at Berchtesgaden, Hitler’s mountain retreat – indeed, his disguise is so perfect Hitler has made him his eventual successor, a fact that makes Joe faint-headed to even think about, and a source of great, ill-concealed resentment from those more deserving and ambitious.  Joe doesn’t sleep well at night, nor does he relish betraying his fellow Hitler Youth companions, still filming their propaganda movie with Leni Riefenstahl. 

            No, Joe’s life is anything but carefree, and suspense is ratcheted up even more with Hitler’s plans to invade Russia:  Operation Barbarossa is in full swing, and Der Führer thinks it would be an excellent idea if, as his successor, Joe and his companions should travel with him on his armoured train to Wolf’s Lair, his bunker in East Prussia near the Russian front – he can have a taste of the front lines and War in all its terrible majesty.  Of course they will be perfectly safe, and Leni should get some good footage of her handsome charges as those miserable Russians are slaughtered by the invincible power and might of the German Army.

            Needless to say, the reality of Joe’s experiences at the front doesn’t match the rosy theory;  his life is saved more than once by Sergeant Misch, part of Hitler’s security detail (a real-life soldier whose photo is in the back of the book!), but worse is to come:  Joe’s handler and contact informs him that, after several botched attempts, it’s time for Joe to Do The Deed:  to assassinate Hitler.

            And how does a 15 year-old boy do that?   

Desperation can make heroes of us all, and Joe, with the assistance – knowing and otherwise – of his friends, concocts a plan.  As does Hitler:  what a stroke of genius it would be (all in a day’s work for the Führer) now that America has been drawn into the war by Japan’s attack at Pearl Harbour, to send a bright, handsome boy soundly coached in Americanisms and the American way of life to be a spy for the Reich.  Not only would Hitler be master of Europe and eventual conqueror of Britain, but he would hopefully be privy to the inner workings (with luck) of the American War Machine.  Brilliant, as always!

This excellent series is an ideal way for young  teenage readers  to  learn of the terrible history of the 20^th century as seen through the eyes of fictional characters they can identify with, and Mr Falkner is the storyteller to do just that:  every fact is authenticated, and the suspense and horror is spine-chilling:  I’m hoping that Joe’s adventures in America will give us some light relief!  FIVE STARS.