Late October Book Lore--Christmas Preview Not So Hot

Tess Gerritsen's The Shape of Night was  a rewarding read for me. I do love it when suspense writers try their hand at a gothic novel. (Remember Elly Griffiths' achievement published early in 2019--see my "Books Read in 2019" booklist in the sidebar.)
And, you know, even though I guessed early on who the murderer was, (NOT because of any sleuthish abilities on my part), I enjoyed the ride just as much because it was so wonderful watching it all come together, or to put it another way, to watch it all fall out.
Dyed-in-the-wool mystery hounds may well disagree with me on this, and I value their opinions. And I suppose I do wish it had been a bit harder to guess, but that doesn't take away from what I loved about the book. The old Maine house on the coast. The ghost who promised to protect, but who also promised pleasure and pain. And the characters who seemed culpable but were heroic.  

Late this afternoon I finished Friday the Rabbi Slept Late by Harry Kemelman, which was published in 1964. It was very good, largely because it was so different from the standard mystery. I appreciated learning more about the unique role of a rabbi in a Jewish congregation, as opposed to a Protestant minister or a Catholic priest in their congregations. The early 1960s setting reminded me of what might be incorrectly called "a simpler time." And as this book proves, and as a close examination of the times and my life as a youngster proves, there was absolutely nothing simple about the early 1960s, nor the 1950s. I am sure I will read another in the series. Probably the Saturday volume.

And in seasonal news, I have started reading a Christmas novel or two or three,  and so far they are not hitting the mark, not by a long shot. They have been downright DULLSVILLE as compared to previous years.
So I sample a book, sigh a lot, and toss it aside.
Then sample another and toss aside again, extremely disappointed.
(Lots have come from the library, so I am thankful I didn't invest in them.)

Then I started reading my very first Nancy Thayer novel of all time--her Christmas title for 2019, set on Nantucket Island, entitled Let It Snow. I've managed to get to the one-third mark and it is SO BORING. I keep thinking the excitement is starting to get off the ground, but it's a tepid glow, like sitting in lukewarm bath water in a frigid bathroom.
And now this passage has made for some very dull reading indeed. I tell you what--When I find a really good one, I'll let you know. Until then, just picture me frisbeeing Christmas titles across the reading loft! Fetch, Sandy!


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