Since it's almost time for my Books Read in 2024 list, I figured I should do my Books Read in 2023!  I've gone back over some notes so I could say a bit about some of them.

Fiction:

What You are Looking for is in the Library, by Michiko Aoyama

The Travelling Cat Chronicle, by Hiro Arikawa  

Both of these books are in the popular Japanese genre of linked short stories 

 

I Leoni di Sicilia, by Stefania Auci

L’inverno dei Leoni 

Auci's series about an entrepreneurial Sicilian  family in the late 19th-early 20th century.  Read for my Italian book club 

 

My Grandmother asked me to tell you she’s sorry, by Fredrik Backman:  

7-year-old Elsa's grandmother, who has created, through her stories, a fairy tale world, dies and leaves Elsa letters to deliver to people she believes she has wronged. It's not as good as I hoped it would be, but it's okay.

 

The Watercress Girl and other stories, by H.E. Bates: All the protagonists are young children, mostly in rural or small town England. Bates evokes the settings in beautiful language, and he really gets the psychology of the children

 

The Personal Librarian, by Marie Benedict:  

 This is a fictionalized version of the life of Belle da Costa Greene, and I was not impressed. The writing style, particularly the dialogue, was quite stilted; characters often seemed to lecture rather than converse. The narrative was flat, and often repetitive. Even though the story was told from Belle's point of view, she was drawn in a very superficial manner, seeing everything through the lens of trying to hide her race. But she was a much more complex person, and it seems unlikely that that was always at the forefront of her thoughts and the motivation for her behavior. The other characters, J.P. Morgan and his children, the Berensons, were also one-dimensional. Had the book been written in the third person, they might have been more fully fleshed out.

And the authors admit to something that I absolutely loathe in historical fiction, and that is "taking liberties with historical dates and details", for no apparent reason. Worst of these is their admission that they chose to create an end to Greene's relationship with the art historian Bernard Berenson "as we wished Belle had", rather than rely on the truth. They ignore Belle's ambivalence regarding women's rights; for example, she was, for a time, a member of the Anti-Suffrage League, though you'd never know it from this book.

If you really want to know about her, read Heidi Ardizzone's biography, "An Illuminated Life" Katherine Chaddock's biography of Greene's father, "Uncompromising Activist: Richard Greener, First Black Graduate of Harvard College" See My review of "An Illuminated Life"

 

La voce del violino, by Andrea Camilleri: a Commissario Montalbano book

 

L’acqua del lago non è mai dolce, by Giula Caminito

 

The Lovers / La Felicità del lupo, by Paolo Cognetti

 

Winter Swallows, by Maurizio de Giovanni: One of de Giovanni's Commissario Ricciardi series, a favorite of mine.

 

The English Understand Wool, by Helen DeWitt

 

The Likeness, by Tana French: Utterly ridiculous. Police officer just happens to be an exact double for a murder victim who used the same name the officer used on an undercover assignment, so they decide to embed her with the suspects. Oh, come on. And it just went on and on and got more and more illogical and unrealistic with every page.

 

Oro Puro, by Fabio Genovesi:  a really fine historical novel told from the point of view of Nuno, 16 when he joins the crew of the Santa Maria and, due to his literacy, becomes Christopher Columbus' scribe.

So Shall You Reap, by Donna Leon: a Guido Brunetti mystery, of course

 

You Are Here, by KariLin-Greenberg: 

The stores are emptying, the mall is closing. What will this mean for the people who work there and their families, and the people who shop there? This book reminded me a lot of Stewart O'Nan's Last Night at the Lobster, and was just as good.

 

The Last Watchman of Old Cairo, by Michael David Lukas: Years ago, I read "Sacred Trash: the lost and found world of the Cairo Geniza", by Adina Hoffman and Peter Cole. That led me to "The Sisters of Sinai: How Two Lady Adventurers Discovered the Hidden Gospels", by Janet Soskice, about two Scots Presbyterian "learned ladies" who assisted Solomon Schecnter in acquiring documents from the Geniza for Cambridge University.

Lukas' book is a work of fiction, moving between the story of the first watchman of the Ibn Ezra synagogue, a young Muslim orphan boy, set in the 11th-century; that of the discoveries at the Geniza in the late 19th-century; and that of an present-day American graduate student, son of an Egyptian Jewish mother and an Egyptian Muslim father, a descendant of the family that for centuries served as watchmen at the synagogue. Lukas does a lovely job of describing Cairo in these three vastly different periods. 

 

The Enigma of Garlic, by Alexander McCall Smith: a 44 Scotland Street book

 

Hello Beautiful, by Ann Napolitano:  

 

I don't get the hype for this book. It's a novel about the relations among four sisters, and has been described as an "homage" to "Little Women". Indeed, the sisters continually compare themselves to the March sisters (not the only repetitiveness in the book), but there really is no resemblance. It's an easy read, but the writing is pedestrian. Napolitano does a lot of "telling", rather than "showing". She doesn't sufficiently develop her characters, so that their behavior seems absurd and their motivations for their actions aren't clear or seem nonsensical.

On top of that, she obviously didn't do her research. The book is set primarily in Chicago and Evanston at very specific times (each chapter is headed with the dates in which it occurs). You can't just hop a bus from Pilsen to Northwestern University, and nobody in their right mind would walk from Northwestern to Pilsen, as she has one character do. There is no part of Chicago that is called "midtown". If you're going to set a book in a specific place and time, be accurate.

But her most egregious offense was to have one sister, Sylvie, work at the Lozano Branch of the Chicago Public Library, beginning in 1974. The Lozano Branch did not open until 1989. Napolitano says in her acknowledgements that she deliberately had it exist "a few years" before then (sorry, FIFTEEN years is not "a few"). This is absolutely infuriating. Rudy Lozano was a labor activist and community organizer who, in 1983, at the age of 31, was murdered because of his activism. The library is named in his honor and has a permanent exhibit celebrating his life. Napolitano erases that history, insulting his memory. I don't like it when authors play games with history, but I don't think I've ever been so angry about it as I am with Napolitano. She owes his family and the community an apology.

 

Il fu Mattia Pascal, by Luigi Pirandello: read for my Italian book club

 

The Key to My Heart: a comedy in three acts, by V. S. Pritchett

 

From Dust to Stardust, by Kathleen Rooney: when I was a kid, we'd go to the Museum of Science and Industry a lot, and one of our favorite things was Colleen Moore's Dollhouse. This is Rooney's fictionalized account of Colleen Moore's life. Not as good as Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk or Cher Ami and Major Whittlesey, but satisfying nonetheless.

 

Satan in the Suburbs and other stories, by Bertrand Russell: weird (and good) short stories by the philosopher

 

The Edwardians, by Vita Sackville-West

 

Important Artifacts and Personal Property from the Collection of Lenore Doolan and Harold Morris, including Books, Street Fashion, and Jewelry. by Leanne Shapton: This book follows the ups and downs of the couple's relationship, in the form of an auction catalog. It's very cleverly done, both text and images. 

 

Trust/Confidenza, by Domenico Starnone: read for my Italian book club

Pandora, by Susan Stokes-Chapman

 

Angel, by Elizabeth Taylor: Angelica lives above her mother's grocery shop, but dreams of being mistress of a grand house. She becomes a writer of popular novels, and her dream comes true, perhaps.

 

The Bookbinder, by Pip Williams: Set in the same Oxford as her previous book, "The Dictionary of Lost Words", we are now at the outbreak of World War One. The protagonist, Peggy Jones, is "Town", from Jericho, and works in the Clarendon Press Bindery, along with her twin sister, Maude, who is autistic? developmentally disabled? (it's not clear exactly what her disability is). Peggy has ambitions, she sneaks reads at the contents of the books she binds.
 

 Williams' portrayals of working class life in Oxford, the conflicts between "Town" and "Gown", and the war effort on the home front, are well-done. And, of course, as someone who used to do a lot of amateur bookbinding, I am enjoying the depictions of that work.

I did have to take a break about midway through. Williams is describing the war, in descriptions by survivors of destruction and carnage, in letters from hospitals at the front that made it past the censors. I was finding it very upsetting, in light of what is happening in Ukraine, in Israel and Gaza, and in so many places in the world.

 

I am reminded of how in each production of "An Iliad" that I've seen (three so far), the list of wars The Poet speaks gets longer.

 

And I cannot help but know that we have learned nothing, and never will.

Mr. Texas, by Lawrence Wright: a novel about a failing rancher who, after a feat of heroism, is recruited to run for the state legislature. Squeaking out a 27-vote lead, he heads to Austin, where with no political experience or knowledge of how the Lege really works, he has to navigate the power brokers, the lobbyists, and his own sense of ethics. Turns out, he's not the pushover his party thought he was.  

 

Molly Ivins (oh, how I miss her!) once said, "No one is safe when the legislature is in session."  And, boy, oh boy, does Wright lay out the truth of that.  Here's his description of Budget Night:  "the climax of the session, an all-night Walpurgisnacht, when deeds are done and blood is spilled and dead bills rise from their graves."   Here in Illinois, we just stop the clock.

Oh, and there's a battle for Speaker of the Texas House, too.  Just happened to read that part on the day Jim Jordan lost the second vote for Speaker of the U.S. House  Funny, insightful, and highly recommended.

 

Non-Fiction:

 

A Neighborhood finds itself, by Julia Abrahamson: a history of how my neighborhood (Hyde Park-Kenwood in Chicago maintained a stable, integrated community in the face of attempts at block-busting. It's really an interesting account, but almost too detailed (do we really need the names of everyone who came to work on a mailing?).

Emperor of Rome, by Mary Beard

 

The Politics of Court Scandal in Early Modern England: News culture and the Overbury affair, 1603-1660, by Alastair Bellany: looks at the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury not simply from a forensic viewpoint, but also how it shaped and reflected views of the Jacobean court. 

 

American Kingpin: the epic hunt for the Criminal Mastermind behind the Silk Road, by Nick Bilton: fascinating account of how Ross Ulbricht created the "dark web", a place for buying and selling drugs, guns, hacked software, etc., and how he was brought down by the feds.

 

All the Beauty in the World: the Metropolitan Museum of art and me, by Patrick Bringley

 

Remainders of the Day: A Bookshop Diary, by Shaun Bythell: another of Bythell's books about his life as a bookseller in Wigtown (known as Scotland's National Book Town). 

 

Thunderclap: a memoir of art and life & sudden death, by Laura Cumming: In 1654, a gunpowder storehouse in Delft exploded. One of the casualties was the painter Carel Fabritius, only 32 years old, but already one of the finest artists of the Dutch golden age of painting. Cumming delves into his life and art, and that of his contemporaries, as well as memories of her own father, the Scottish artist James Cumming.  Enjoyed tremendously

 

Once Upon a Tome: the misadventures of a rare bookseller, by Oliver Darkshire

 

A Glance at Private Libraries, by Luther Farnham: Written in 1855, it's an interest look at the libraries of a number of Boston collectors. 

 

The Art of Wagashi: recipes for Japanese sweets that delight the palate and the eyes, by Kimiko Gunji: In August, 2023, I spent a weekend at Taliesin, for a workshop "Kokoro", a Japanese concept that has no equivalent word in English, but you can find it discussed here  One of the teachers was Kimiko Gunji, who led us in tea ceremony and calligraphy.  At tea ceremony, we enjoyed Prof. Gunji's wagashi (confectionery), and I was delighted to find that she had written a book about it.

 

Once Upon a Prime: the wondrous connections between mathematics and literature, by Sarah Hart: Despite the fact that math is definitely not my strong point, I enjoyed this discussion of how math and literature complement each other. Hart is the Gresham Professor of Geometry, the first woman to hold that position since its founding in 1597.

Binga: the rise and fall of Chicago’s first Black banker, by Don Hayner

 

Frank Lloyd Wright’s Taliesin: illustrated by vintage postcards, by Randolph C. Henning

 

The Secret Lives of Buildings, by Edward Holllis

 

Goddess of Anarchy: the Life and Times of Lucy Parsons, American Radical, by Jacqueline Jones

 

Who is the City For?:  Architecture, Equity, and the Public Realm in Chicago, by Blair Kamin: Kamin was the architecture critic for the Chicago Tribune. This is a collection of his articles for the paper (the second such collection, following Why Architecture Matters), with photos by Lee Bey, architecture critic for the Chicago Sun-Times. They make a good team! The columns discuss issues about the effects of urban development choices, who benefits, what is the impact on the city and the people who live in it.

 

The World of Juliette Kinzie: Chicago Before the Fire, by Ann Durkin Keating: Kinzie arrived in Chicago in 1834 and died in 1870, so saw it grow from a community of approximately 300 to a city of more than 300,000. The book is based on Kinzie's correspondence, saved by her daughter.

 

A Factotum in the Book Trade, by Marius Kociejowski

 

Wandering through Life, by Donna Leon: It's really more a collection of very short vignettes than a full-blown memoir. They range from stories about her childhood and family to her first exposure to opera (Zinka Milanov as Tosca, at the Met).

 

The King is Dead: the last will and testament of Henry VIII, by Suzannah Lipscomb

 

A Burglar’s Guide to the City, by Geoff Manaugh

 

Kyoto: a Contemplative Guide, by Gouverneur Mosher: I read this prior to my trip to Japan in March, and took it with me. It's not your traditional guidebook, but, as the title suggests, provides a way of looking at the gardens and temples.

 

Bookshelf, by Lydia Pyne

 

The Loop: the “L” tracks that shaped and saved Chicago, by Patrick T. Reardon

 

Crying in the Bathroom: a memoir, by Erika L. Sanchez

 

The Dress Diary: Secrets from a Victorian Woman’s Wardrobe, by Kate Strasdin: Strasdin, who is a dress historian, was given a "diary" consisting of swatches of fabric collected by a woman in the mid-19th-century. She was able to identify the owner, and uses the diary to tell a story of textile manufacture, lives of expats, mourning etiquette, and all sorts of aspects of social history.  Fortunately, she includes images of many of the swatches.

 

Sherlock Holmes and Music, by Guy Warrack: A short book, discussing Holmes' musical life, his preferences, both as amateur performer and listener