Lady Kopp Makes Trouble--Connie Gets Her Man!

Lady Cop Makes Trouble by Amy Stewart
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Love this series. Constance Kopp was a real person and much of the story has as its " bones" the articles written about her in the New Jersey papers of the early 20th Century. She and her two sisters live in the rural part of Rutherford but she is the sheriff's deputy--on and off. Mostly, lately she has been the woman's jail matron but, when one of the male inmates refuses to speak anything but German and only to her, she finds herself escorting him to the nearest hospital where he makes his escape.
How she tries to recapture him to save her boss' job and get reinstated is a truly fun Kopp Kaper. The secondary characters--her down to earth passenger pigeon breeder sister, Norma and her much younger " sister " and determined to see the lights of the city, Fleurette--only enhance the tale, as does her by the book but supportive boss and his unhappy wife. Looking forward to episode three.

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The Garden of the Gods--Durells in Corfu Book 3

The Garden of the Gods by Gerald Durrell
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Well, don't think I want to live in a run down villa in Corfu during a hot, dry summer. The onslaught of insects and other arthropods when the lamps are lit would be enough to drive me to the nearest vessel headed home. That said, I would have loved to have attended one of the Durrell's hilarious parties--jeejee was a lucky birthday boy.

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The Durellls in Corfu--Part 2--Ending with the Impending Threat of War

My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Highly fictionalized story of the Durell's on Corfu but even more interesting and hilarious than the PBS version. Certainly not for anyone who isn't fascinated by the natural world, since so much of the book is dedicated to intense scrutiny and lengthy, poetic descriptions of creatures from scorpions and mantises to water snakes and black backed Gulls. But Durrell's descriptions while as colorful and precise as any artist's rendering are also, in many cases, uproariously funny--laughing out loud does not describe the snorting and tearing of eyes that accompanies the reading of such passages as the launching of the birthday boat built by his brother, Leslie.
Speaking of Leslie and the rest of the Durrells, as well as Spiro and other residents of Corfu, be prepared to be surprised at the lack of physical resemblance described here to the actors playing the parts. Also, so as not to be totally distressed by the real Leslie, Margo, Larry, and Gerry, as well as mother Durell, do NOT read any biographical sketches of them. This and the TV show are indeed fictional, BUT the portrayal of the Durrell family members by the actors is spot on.
Although I like them all, my favorite character is Theodore and he is my favorite on the show as well. He is a wonderful mentor to Gerry in both the written and acted rendition of this, the first book, in the Corfu Trilogy. On to the next!

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Montauk--Don't Bother!

Montauk by Nicola Harrison
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

One of the problems with reading and reviewing an uncorrected bound manuscript is that the reader/reviewer has no idea what, if anything, will be corrected or altered prior to the actual publication of the work. It sort of makes the review rather nebulous since it may have little if anything to do with the book that goes out to the public. Still, having waded through this book, as superficial as the entitled rich folk who first and still populate Montauk, especially in summer, it seems something should be said.

Time is summer 1938--a Depression year, though hardly mentioned in the narrative. Montauk is still primarily a fishing village on the very tip of Long Island, several hours distant by LIR from the hot, concrete canyons of Manhattan. One of the rich moguls from this segment of society is on the brink of going under since he developed Miami into the disaster it still is. A hurricane has cost him tons of money and now he needs investors to continue his destruction uh development, of another pristine Atlantic coastal town. A Manor has already been built and to it is brought the spoiled, overindulged wives of his possible saviors. They, their children is any and the requisite nannies, have been deposited safely out from underfoot by the men who return on week-ends to complete their obligations as loving spouses and fathers.

Among these women is an innocent wife, not originally of this caste of American society, who finds herself out of sync and beyond her depth. She feels obligated to play her role as wife, which is to cozy up to the other wives in an effort to gain access to their husbands' influence in the success of hers. Of course, these cliques are well-established and not easily entered. But, loving her husband and believing herself to be loved in return, she does her best. All is not warm and cozy with the husband who prefers cards and hunting and drinking to her company but she's fine, sort of, with that, UNTIL the big reveal--he's unfaithful.

As you can see, nothing, so far is unique or unusual about this plot. And so it continues, as she, as superficial and bored as the rest of the pampered city gals, finds herself insinuating herself into the family of the local laundress, who does the dirty wash for the rich. The book uses every possible way to drive home how little these people do for themselves and how bigoted they are, without really clarifying the lot of the locals who serve them and depend upon their financial contributions to the family income.

Despite the pleadings of Elizabeth. the laundress, and the knowledge that her continued insistence on having a relationship with her might cause the loss of job and income, our heroine, Beatrice, persists and prevails. From this connection she finds herself involved with the lighthouse keeper and here, too, she, without consideration for his reputation or his job security, selfishly pursues a dangerous path. This liaison results in the expected calamity of true love, complications and seemingly unsolvable disaster.

So, not knowing where to go with the situation she has created, the author creates a true natural disaster which ties everything up neatly for all concerned. The whole thing totally expected, none of which is particularly moving and all of which leaves the reader with the sense of having wasted an awful lot of time on a pedestrian soap opera of a plot. For a summer weekend at the beach, probably not too emotionally or intellectually demanding. Maybe that's okay but that is all it is--okay.



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The Durrell's in Corfu, Book 1 by Gerry

My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Highly fictionalized story of the Durell's on Corfu but even more interesting and hilarious than the PBS version. Certainly not for anyone who isn't fascinated by the natural world, since so much of the book is dedicated to intense scrutiny and lengthy, poetic descriptions of creatures from scorpions and mantises to water snakes and black backed Gulls. But Durrell's descriptions while as colorful and precise as any artist's rendering are also, in many cases, uproariously funny--laughing out loud does not describe the snorting and tearing of eyes that accompanies the reading of such passages as the launching of the birthday boat built by his brother, Leslie.
Speaking of Leslie and the rest of the Durrells, as well as Spiro and other residents of Corfu, be prepared to be surprised at the lack of physical resemblance described here to the actors playing the parts. Also, so as not to be totally distressed by the real Leslie, Margo, Larry, and Gerry, as well as mother Durell, do NOT read any biographical sketches of them. This and the TV show are indeed fictional, BUT the portrayal of the Durrell family members by the actors is spot on.
Although I like them all, my favorite character is Theodore and he is my favorite on the show as well. He is a wonderful mentor to Gerry in both the written and acted rendition of this, the first book, in the Corfu Trilogy. On to the next!

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Last Days on the Road--First Days Home

Hello ZigZags, Well, Tuesday marked one week home from the trip. It seems as though I never left and the trip itself feels nebulous--like an imaginary trek or blurry dream. The last few days are always long days on the road with few stops. Money is running out, time is running out and we are so close to home and the scenery is so home-like that all we want to do is get there. On Saturday the 27th we headed out into the expected rain which was consistent all the way through Ohio, from Cincinatti, through Columbus which is fairly easy to get through to Medina. We weren't sure what the weather would be like, nor the traffic, so we planned a short lap of 198 miles. Leaving shortly after 9 it got us to our motel by 1pm. I haven't been to this motel for about three years and it was amazing to see how it has been refurbished. The bedrooms have been updated as well and it was very comfortable and cheery. There is a deli right in front of the motel which sets back off the road. The last time Bill and I were here they had run out of pastrami since they had a big catering job that day. Today, happily, there was plenty of pastrami and Barb and I each ordered one on rye, despite the fact that as soon as we sat in our booth a six legged creature came out of the shadows, ran across the table and under it. We moved immediately to a table across the aisle. Quietly, told the owner why we'd changed tables. He was alarmed and got a water spray for under the table. The creature ran out and he caught it in his hand and scurried out of the room. We had not wanted to alert the two other parties to our discovery and he was grateful but not enough to treat us to a second glass of wine! lol He told us that it was a flying bug seeking warmth from the oncoming cold weather. Barb and I accepted his explanation, but glanced at each other knowingly. These two kids from Manhattan know a roach when we see it. Still, we enjoyed our thick sandwiches. I eat mine unadulterated--no cheese--good God!!!--no mustard--just delicious meat and heavenly rye. Watched the car auction on the TV--a channel I've only seen at this restaurant-- and relaxed with two glasses of merlot and white zin, for Barb. We talked about returning for dinner but didn't. We also talked about picking up a pound of pastrami to bring home. Yet, when the time came we didn't do that either. I'm not sure I'll be able to eat there again, actually. But, I probably will--the food is good and I don't think the place is overrun with bugs. ( When I told Bill about it, he said it was too bad--he liked the guy and the food. We'll see.) Sunday, as we pulled out of the parking lot and noticed that the deli was closed, Barb said, even if he'd been open she wasn't going to pick up pastrami for home. I told her I wasn't either. Silly, I suppose, but crawling creatures in restaurant kitchens should be out of sight and, therefore, out of mind--lol The next exit after Medina connects to yet another urban loop--this one around Cleveland. As we traveled toward the Lake and the bit of Ohio and Pennsylvania that borders it, we had clear weather but as soon as we came within sight of the water, the skies opened up yet again. All the way to and through Buffalo and on across the State of New York to Batavia, it rained and it was cold--low 40's the whole way. Yet the mitigating effect of the warm water has kept the foliage here still pretty vibrant at the end of October. Passing through the Seneca Reservation we saw the tall Indian that has been moved many times along the road--I love the picture of him seeming to come from Barb's nose--lol Also, another Native greeting on the overpass. Considering the debt owed by NYS, I wonder how welcoming it is. While the Finger Lakes region of New York is famous for its vineyards, the Lake Erie shore is also filled with grape vines for miles. The winery in Saratoga gets its wine from the grapes grown here. I don't know why it is, but the NYS Thruway seems interminable. From Buffalo to Albany seems to take forever. Maybe its because, though the farmland is some of the most beautiful in the State, there isn't enough to distract the eye and the ride is almost hypnotic. Have never figured out why but I hate this part of the trip. Of course, paying a huge toll doesn't help either. But, it is faster than Rte 20 which goes through too many little burgs. Finished our day in Batavia, having covered 251 miles. Went to Applebee's for dinner and then settled in for the night. Both of us were excited at the prospect of being in Saratoga the next day. Since Barb's gas was off, National Grid changed her gas meter shortly after we left on the trip, we talked about staying in the Comfort Inn in Wilton and going for a celebratory dinner at Morton's. Monday brought a mixed bag of weather--though mostly drizzle when it rained. Sometimes the valleys were filled with fog and all in all it was a gray day. We covered 240 miles and the temp got up to 49 or so. Got to Barb's at about 2. Started to bring in her things and move my stuff to the trunk. Fortunately, we had kept our things pretty separate so except for the laundry there wasn't much sorting to do. Laura, Barb's neighbor, brought over hot chicken soup which was really nice of her. I don't think I'd ever met her before. While I was getting stuff together Barb called National Grid to set up an appointment to come turn on the gas and light the pilot light for her water heater. I thought she was doing that when she got back from Vt but they said they'd be to the house by 6. She then discovered that her TV wasn't working and so she called Spectrum to come fix that. After awhile, freezing, I decided I wanted to go home so called Bill to drive down and we'd stay at the motel in Wilton and come home together the next day. Both Barb and I were tired --from the trip, from the aggravation of the heat and TV and, I think, of each other. 7 weeks to the day of 24/7--absolutely no breaks from each other except when sleeping takes its toll. It is amazing to me and to others, I'm sure, that we manage to do these trips. There are flare-ups, as there were that afternoon, but they are basically pressure valve releases and are soon over. By the time Bill arrived, we had eaten nachos together and talked about different parts of the trip. We moved my stuff into the Toyota and off we went to the King suite in Wilton. I missed Bill and Betsy and the cats a lot. It was great to be with him and though still several hours drive from home-home, it felt as though I were already there. On Tuesday morning we had breakfast and headed home by 8. The sky was gorgeous and it promised a sunny day. Early morning light made the old familiar drive beautiful.Had hoped to get fresh apple cider donuts before Fair Haven in Whitehall but we were 20 minutes too early for the bakery at the orchard to be open. When we climbed out of Mendon onto Killington I got my first glimpse of this year's winter wonderland. Though I'm definitely not looking forward to winter and already hate the short dark cold days, it was just beautiful. The first snow always is exciting and creates such a storybook landscape. It gets old once Christmas is over, though! On the downward side, over the Killington hump, it was all over. I've ridden on this side on snowy and icy roads--glad it wasn't that way this time. Across the long bride in White River and the road stretched ahead to Post Mills, where we arrived at 1130. Barb came by around 2 after picking up Damian in Vershire and I gave her the gas money which I'd been keeping in my pocketbook once the amount became significant. I had spent the morning putting things away from the trip--leaving only my suitcase and the laundry. So the house looked pretty good. So came the end of our outing: 9452.6 miles over exactly 7 weeks. The total gas money for us both was $1016.02 A little over 10 cents a mile--not bad. We each took 5000 for the trip and so as usual, food, gas, lodging, tours, souvenirs--all costs totaled to about $1 a mile. I'm always amazed at that. I was excited to see that my two Christmas cacti are in full bloom. The porch is filled with wood for the stove and all my plants are gone. The gardens are turned for winter. The leaves are gone from the trees, except for two oaks in the nursery which haven't changed color or dropped. Betsy came over and we celebrated my 76th birthday a week late but with my traditional boiled dinner--something my Mom always made for me and which Bill has kept as the tradition. My favorite meal of all time in winter. I only gained 1.4 pounds on the trip which pleases me, and in the first week home I seemed to crave junk food like crazy. Have now returned to sensible eating. Caught up on reading--finishing The House on the Edge of Night, which I'd started before leaving home and which I took on the trip but only read sporadically. There were two new books awaiting me--The Kinship of Secrets from BrookBrowse which I had to read and review and have done so--and Montauk from Goodreads which I've started. Also finished Murder in an Irish Village, left unfinished in Sept. I'm now only one book behind schedule for my personal reading challenge of 60 books this year. The laundry is done and put away. November's bills are paid, the check books balanced, the mail all read. So, gradually, I'm getting back into the swing of things. Attila lies in my lap at night and watches TV with me--he is really happy to see me. Shadow, being Bill's cat, is less demonstrative to me, but he lets me hold him each morning and purrs like crazy--so guess he missed me, too. LOL So, ZZ's, it is back to the old routines. Will Bill and I head out again this winter? I think so. If we do, want to come along? For now, it is so long, until we hit the road again. It was fun having you with us. BarbZig and KatZag

Two Sisters Worlds Apart Then Not Kinship of Secrets

The Kinship of Secrets by Eugenia Kim
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Parallel Lives of Two Sisters
A page turner as two young girls grow from toddler to college graduates. One in Korea, the other in America--the cultures so different and yet periods of their lives--grade school, middle school --so similar in ways. Dealing with the personal adjustments to forming friendships, discovering boys, girlish competitions, differing relationships with parental figures, music, dancing, clothing styles. But the differences, too--multigenerational home in Korea, only child in America. Poverty in Korea, overabundance in America. The strength of tradition and culture in Korea, the loss of even language in America. The author alternates chapters --first in Korea, the next in the States.

She uses not only political and world events to chart time, but also pop culture--Elvis, Almaden wine (do they still make that?), the mashed potato and the twist, Dick Clark's TV show.

Although the differences between the two countries and the political situation in Korea are clearly expressed in the earlier chapters, it is not until Inja, at 15, is finally able to come to the States and reunite with parents she knows only through photographs and letters, that the reality of the situation becomes clear.

Miran, the girl raised in the US doesn't even speak Korean, She has difficulty with her Oriental appearance but American upbringing that leaves her feeling somehow a person who doesn't know who she is, Inja, in the meantime, is overwhelmed by the luxuriousness into which she finds herself and by the grief she feels at leaving the only family and home she has ever known.

How the two grow close and how they begin to understand themselves and their shared family history is the strongest part of the book and yet it could not have its impact without having their lives before detailed.

This is a review of an ARC provided by BookBrowse for review

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Generations of Espositos on the Island of Castellamare Living in The House at the Edge of Night

The House at the Edge of Night by Catherine Banner
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

While interesting with relatable characters, the book was too long and repetitious. Castellamare and its inhabitants survive two world wars, gossip, superstition, secrets, scandals and family infighting over a period of several generations. Over it all devotion to Sant'Agata and her annual festival serves as the touchstone of the passage of time. That and the family residing in the house at the edge of night.

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