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A Wink and a Smile, Anthology

This anthology of short love stories, all guaranteed to end happily, is a charming read. I don't read anthologies often, but I'm always glad when I do because I find the variety of styles around a central theme fascinating. It's like watching eighteen writers show you their approach to solving a particular problem, in this case, what's called the 'meet cute' (girl meets boy, etc.), in a compact space.

I recommend the book as a whole, which is full of cute, funny moments. Several of the stories stood out for me on cleverness of concept ("Critical Error" by Meg Overman, "Cupid's Arrow" by Tricia Schneider), and then there are some that really melted my heart ("Afterlife" by Dev Bentham, "Damage, Cosmetic Only" by Anita Goveas, and "The Wheels On The Bus" by Ilene Goldman). Lots of fun, great read!

The Night Manager, John le Carré

Fathers' Day, in my memory as a child, was almost invariably marked by a ceremonial present of the latest le Carré novel from my dad to my grandfather. I had never read one, but I'm reading a mix of romance and espionage at the moment and had recently rented the 2016 TV miniseries, which is excellent. One of the absolutely fascinating things was seeing the way the 2016 miniseries had adapted le Carré's book, which was published in 1993: the primary action is moved from Panama to Afghanistan, for example.

Le Carré is a brilliant writer: not just in terms of the convoluted details of Intelligence bureaucracy, but his often unexpectedly poetic sentences (Jonathan is described as being a "graduate of a rainy archipelago of orphanages, foster homes, half-mothers, cadet units and training camps") , and then, of course, the dazzling way his characters talk to one another. Major Corkoran is priceless. Roper's language changes, depending on his mood, and the MI6 characters make me grieve for the British public school education I never had. One of my favorite bits is the interview in which Corkoran (who uses the plural) is grilling Jonathan about his past:

"Smoke ourselves, do we, heart? In better times?"
"A bit."
"What times are they, old love?"
"Cooking."
"Can't hear us."
"Cooking. When I'm taking a break from hoteling."
Major Corkoran became all enthusiasm. "I must say, not a word of a lie. Bloody good grub you ran us up at Mama's before you saved the side that night. Were those sauced-up mussels all our own work?"
"Yes."
"Finger-lickin' good. How about the carrot cake? We scored a bull's-eye there, I can tell you. Chief's favorite. Flown in, was it?"
"I made it."
"Come again, old boy?"
"I made it."
Corkoran was robbed of words. "You mean you made the carrot cake? Our own tiny hands? Old love. Heart."

All this combined with him being absolutely ruthless and Jonathan in danger of losing his life if his identity is exposed.

Here's what I'm not crazy about, and it's understandable, but le Carré comes out of a male-dominated world in which women are side characters who exist in the story primarily for the hero, and the older I get, the less I'm interested in "lone wolf" men with no familial attachments, who seem to find an attractive, willing 20-something in every port along their journey while cherishing some attachment to 'the one woman' they 'really' love (Charles McCarry's The Shanghai Factor does the same thing).

There is a very moving section at the end of The Night Manager where Jonathan draws strength and inspiration through his worst trials from his imaginary conversations with a madonna-like Sophie (now long dead), but he's been getting around quite a bit in the meantime and is in the middle of a relationship with Roper's mistress, Jed, the woman he'll go on to live happily ever after with. It's sweet, but one can't help reflecting it sucks to be Sophie. This idea that a man can be considered, without irony, to be faithful, in love, while sleeping with multiple (disposable) women, makes me wonder if a lot of men have a different concept of fidelity. The best I could do was to imagine mourning a beloved first wife while moving on to a second, but I struggled to emotionally connect with the otherwise appealing Jonathan because of this.

Still, it's a brilliant book, and I look forward to reading more by him.

A Study in Scarlet Women, Sherry Thomas

I've read four Sherry Thomas books now, back-to-back, and each one, I think "Okay, this is my favorite!" She is whip-smart, and she writes beautifully, and I quickly get sucked in and care deeply about her characters. I ADORE the late 19th century period, and Thomas writes with just the right balance of research and description: enough to make the setting real, but not heavy-handed.

I'm highlighting A Study in Scarlet Women, the first in her 'Charlotte Holmes' mystery series: it's fascinating and funny and very clever, with several interlocking mysteries. It captures the 'feel' and delight of reading Sherlock Holmes, but without the dated misogyny of the original that now subtly grates on me. I can't wait to read A Conspiracy in Belgravia, the second mystery in the series!

I also read her historical romances, My Beloved Enemy, Not Quite a Husband, and His At Night. Absolutely loved each one. Despite the 'breathless' covers, these are hands down the best romances I've read to date: smart, well-researched, and emotionally engaging. I loved the setting of the first two (colonial Chinese Turkistan and northern India, respectively), which I found fascinating and fresh, and the third (His At Night) is a clever 'spy vs. spy'-style romance that reminded me of everything I love about The Scarlet Pimpernel. Thomas is the latest addition to my favorite authors, and I'm in the middle of reading everything she's written.

The Ghost Shift, John Gapper

Contemporary spy novel/murder mystery set in Hong Kong. I thought there were two particularly brilliant things about this: 1) The protagonist finds herself reliving the steps (with small variations) of the murder victim's last days and hours; 2) The setting is incredibly creepy because there's this pervasive sense of being nobody, a person with no rights, whether that's the Guangdong factory, or the CIA black site. There's a nefarious mystery plot, of course, but the factory chapters with the description of the living and working conditions should be required reading for all Americans.

Beauty and the Clockwork Beast, Nancy Campbell Allen

The concept here is absolutely brilliant: setting a 'Beauty & the Beast' story in steampunk/Gothic. I have a weakness for all three, and I loved the feel of this world. I was hoping for a little more weirdness - too many inventions, like the mechanical horseless carriage, felt like easy equivalents for our own world, especially the ability to 'telescribe' other people, which sounded a lot like texting.

I like very strong plots with a clear sense of what we're doing and where we're going (while hoping to be surprised), and for me the first two-thirds of the book was missing that sense of urgency. But I kept going, because I liked the world and the concept; I did feel like it picked up, and I thoroughly enjoyed the last third.

The characters did not grab me by the heart, although this is probably no fault of the author's, and I really, really shouldn't complain, because Allen is well within the tradition. I'm personally fed up with Mr. Rochester-style heroes and spunky, liberated heroines. I suppose this is part of what you ask for when you pick up a 'Beauty & the Beast' story, but to me, the core of the story is the question whether Beauty will be able to see and love the Beast for who he is (how he acts, what he says), despite his repulsive exterior. It seems to me that this has been flipped, and what we get (over and over) are devastatingly handsome 'beasts' who behave rudely, and the question has morphed into something like whether Beauty will have the courage to stand up to this jerk and sass him right back. ARRG!

Again, I'm in the minority.

I do understand 'the beast' is a metaphor for overwhelming male sexuality, and we expect (at least in fantasy), that a spunky, liberated woman will be able to meet him at his level and transform the 'danger' into a mutually satisfying relationship. I think this is a rather limited view of male sexuality, however (physically dominating, inclining toward brutish).

I also think it's a rather narrow view of female strength: the heroines I really bond with, like Jane Eyre, like Marian Halcombe in The Woman in White, are not overtly pretty, they do not move freely in their society, they do not speak freely in front of anyone who will listen, they are incredibly vulnerable--and yet, they dig deep and find courage, against the odds, in the midst of their terror.

Beauty and the Billionaire, Barbara Dunlop

I'm on a 'Beauty & the Beast' retellings jag. Dunlop's novella is what I would call a 'fantasy romance' - he & his Platinum Amex take her off to Paris for a 'Pretty Woman' style high-fashion makeover - but it is textbook perfect for the genre and hits all the marks. The main characters are devastating good-looking, confident, and successful, which is almost a given for the genre (possibly a necessity); I tend to go for less showy protagonists, like Connie Willis' nerdy & sweet male leads. I know it's supposed to be fantasy (pretend he's gorgeous; pretend you're gorgeous), but people like this feel unrelatable to me and don't snag my heart. Still, Dunlop deserves credit for a well-executed, squarely-in-the-genre novella. There is a lot of verbal repartee filled with teasing innuendo along the way that makes it a fun read.