May reading roundup #2

Call Me Zelda, Erika Robuck
Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald were the darlings of New York and Paris society – for a while. This novel depicts Zelda in the years “after the party,” starting at a psychiatric hospital in Baltimore. Nurse Anna Howard, assigned to Zelda’s care, is drawn to the Fitzgeralds but wary of their magnetism. Anna is a fictional but wonderfully sympathetic character, who bears her own scars from World War I and the years after. An absorbing, bittersweet yet hopeful novel. (I also enjoyed Robuck’s previous book, Hemingway’s Girl.)

The Fleet Street Murders, Charles Finch
When two prominent London journalists are murdered in the same night, gentleman detective Charles Lenox can’t resist investigating – while also attempting to run for Parliament in the north. Dashing back and forth on trains, meeting villagers and reading news reports from London, Lenox has his hands full. A fun twist on a London mystery, and an interesting look at local elections in Victorian times.

Thinking in Numbers: On Life, Love, Meaning, and Math, Daniel Tammet
An autistic savant who has set a world record for the most publicly recited digits of pi, Daniel Tammet sees numbers a bit differently than most people do. In this essay collection, he explores math as it relates to family relationships, poetry, language, chess and other topics. Some of the essays get a bit abstract if you’re not a mathematician, but others are accessible and engaging. To review for Shelf Awareness (out July 30).

A Stranger in Mayfair, Charles Finch
As he adjusts to married life and attempts to launch his career in Parliament, Charles Lenox gets distracted by a case: a footman in the house of an acquaintance has been murdered. Soon, the man who asked Lenox to take the case begins warning him away: what is the family hiding? Cleverly plotted, with lots of twists and (of course) a bit of personal drama. Great fun.

Hungry: What Eighty Ravenous Guys Taught Me About Life, Love, and the Power of Good Food, Darlene Barnes
A former personal chef, Darlene Barnes never expected to become a frat cook. But the six years she spent cooking for the men of Alpha Sigma Phi (and insisting on fresh, local food whenever possible) taught her many lessons, not all of them about food. A fun, snarky inside look at fraternity life and communal eating (with recipes). To review for Shelf Awareness (out August 6).

A Burial at Sea, Charles Finch
Charles Lenox heads to Egypt on a clandestine government mission, only to assume his old detective role when two crew members are murdered. As the Lucy sails southward, Lenox must watch his step as he attempts to find the murderer. A fun journey in a different setting, though I missed Lenox’s family and friends who usually appear.

The Clover House, Henriette Lazaridis Power
Calliope Notaris Brown grew up spending summers with her mother’s relatives in Greece, but hasn’t returned in five years. But when her uncle dies, she must go to claim her inheritance, and try to unravel a web of family secrets. I found Callie frustratingly self-absorbed, but I liked the setting and her family, and enjoyed the flashbacks to the 1940s in Greece.

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What are you reading?

Things that make me feel unreasonably accomplished. A list.

• When I successfully hand- or machine-wash an article of clothing labeled Dry Clean Only, saving on present and future dry-cleaning bills.
• When I schedule a haircut, dental appointment or other nagging, grown-up life admin item.
• When I return all my library books on time.
• When I keep a plant alive through the winter.
• When I put together an outfit of which my fashionista sister and mother would be proud. (This often involves at least one piece of clothing or jewelry given to me by one of them.)
• When I have a successful phone conversation with someone I don’t know. (There are few things I dread more. Sometimes I actually pray for people not to answer the phone.)
• When I pull off a new, complicated recipe or knitting pattern.
• When I finish a difficult book.
• When I send off a well-written book review. (Extra points if it’s a review of a difficult book.)
• When I successfully navigate a new city, particularly if I do it by instinct.
• When I buy a gift for someone and they love it.

What makes you feel absurdly, disproportionately, proudly accomplished?

The semi-urban life

(Image from Hooked on Houses)

I have this fantasy of a life in New York or Paris, where I live in a walk-up apartment filled with light, which holds all my possessions but somehow does not feel crammed (except, of course, for the overflowing bookshelves). I dream of doing all my food shopping at greenmarkets, swinging a tote bag over my shoulder, or at impossibly chic, overpriced corner markets filled with exotic cheeses, meats and wines. I dream of living my life in one city neighborhood, like so many New Yorkers do, without a car or a basement or a long commute, able to find everything I need within a few square blocks. (Including green space, because woman cannot live on concrete alone.)

In my daydream, which is clearly a result of having watched a handful of Nora Ephron films many times over, I manage to jettison the boxes of extra things-I-might-need-someday, the odd items of clothing, kitchenware or nostalgia that clutter the cabinets and drawers and spare room in my current apartment. (As it happens, I live in a second-floor walk-up, filled with light and also with overflowing bookshelves.)

In this dream, I finally get a handle on buying and keeping only what I need; I do not spend hours on public transportation every day; and the places where I live and work are within walking distance of one another. And life is manageable, because it has shrunk to a radius described by the path my feet can take on a given day.

But of course that’s not how my life really is.

I was raised in a sprawling, midsize town in a part of the country where people do not take public transportation unless they cannot afford to drive, and where no one lives in adorable little apartments or shops at chic city markets for the simple reason that there are none. (The one exception to the first rule: my tiny, adorable garage apartment during my first year out of college.)

I grew up with an attic and a walk-in closet and several big-box stores within easy driving distance, and that is (mostly) how I lived in the first years of my marriage, when my husband and I rented a three-bedroom house in a town similar to (and only a few hours away from) my hometown. We drove everywhere and we shopped at Target and we had, as my mother never failed to remind us, way more furniture and household goods than she and my dad had when they started out as newlyweds.

When we moved to the Boston area in 2010, we struck a compromise: an apartment in the first ring of suburbs, splitting the distance between the city itself (where we couldn’t have afforded the rent anyway) and his new job 25 miles south of Boston. As a result, we – especially I – live a sort of split-personality, urban-suburban life.

I park my car on the street next to our house. I do laundry in our basement. I store Christmas decorations and boxes of oddments down there. I drive to the grocery store and the library weekly, to the hair salon and Target every couple of months, and we drive to church on Sundays. Most of my best friends live farther out in the suburbs than we do.

But every weekday morning, I walk two blocks and then take the subway to Cambridge, where I walk to work and to lunch, to the post office and the bank, sometimes to the overpriced deli/market, and (soon, I hope) to the farmer’s market. It was this way when I worked in downtown Boston, too: I had a beat, a neighborhood, a series of paths, a set of places I went to shop and eat and do business. It was limited in distance, and it felt – it still feels – manageable, somewhat close to that New York fantasy. And yet every day I commute home, and the contradictions – space, logistics, mindset – surface again.

Most of the time, I am grateful for my glimpses of both worlds: the glamour, culture and walkability of a city, combined with the lower rent, relative spaciousness and affordable parking of the suburbs. But sometimes I wish I could live wholly in one place or the other, instead of always having one foot in each. I think it might be easier, or at least simpler, and less exhausting.

What do you think? Do you live in the city, the suburbs, a small town? Or do you live a life in between, like me? Do you like the situation you have, or do you wish you could trade it for something else?

Mystery Monday: Maggie Hope

Last spring, I won an advance copy from Goodreads of Mr. Churchill’s Secretary, the first in a historical mystery series starring whip-smart, red-headed, mathematician-turned-spy Maggie Hope. Born in England but raised by an aunt in the U.S., she returns to London as a young woman, as the rumblings of war from Hitler’s Germany grow louder and more ominous.

Maggie intends to stay in London only long enough to sell her grandmother’s house and tie up the loose ends. But, loyal to her new friends and inspired by the determination of the British people, she stays on, longing to contribute to the war effort. Before long, Maggie is working for Winston Churchill, using her intellect and wit to convince him and everyone else that she’s more than just a secretary.

I enjoyed Mr. Churchill’s Secretary – meeting Maggie and her group of friends, then getting an insider’s look at life in the War Rooms under Churchill. Maggie also makes a few vital discoveries about her own history, and the tense finale paved the way for the sequel, Princess Elizabeth’s Spy.

No longer a mere typist, Maggie goes undercover at Windsor Castle to tutor and protect Princesses Margaret and “Lilibet,” as the future Queen was then known, helping prevent a kidnapping attempt. Susan Elia MacNeal ratcheted up the plot tension, character development and quality of writing in her second book, and the setting – Christmas at Windsor Castle! – was captivating.

Maggie’s third adventure, His Majesty’s Hope (out tomorrow), is the best yet. Now fully trained as a spy, Maggie parachutes into Berlin on a mission that will bring her dangerously close to both the enemy and her own past.

Susan graciously agreed to answer a few questions about Maggie – read on to learn more about Maggie’s origins and Susan’s research travels. (As a fellow Anglophile, I am so jealous of the latter.)

How did you come up with the character of Maggie Hope?

Maggie Hope is definitely inspired by my late friend and writing mentor, the novelist Judith Merkle Riley. She was, like Maggie, brilliant — and, also like Maggie, combated more than her share of sexism as she worked in academia in the ’60s and ’70s. Judith was an amazing person, and Maggie has her intelligence, her warmth, her sense of humor — as well as her impatience with red tape and bureaucracy.

Maggie’s name, Margaret, was a nod to Judith’s character Margaret of Ashbury, in her first novel, Vision of Light. Maggie Hope’s hair is red because Margaret’s hair was red — Judith based Margaret physically on her daughter, who’s a redhead (and is still a very good friend of mine!).

I chose the name “Hope” because of an actual conversation Winston Churchill had with one of his real wartime secretaries, Marian Holmes. When they met, he thought she said her last name was Hope — and was actually disappointed that it wasn’t. (Although he went on to call Miss Holmes “Miss Sherlock.”) I thought it was intriguing that Mr. Churchill really wanted a secretary with the surname “Hope.”

What drew you to write about World War II in Britain?

I was very lucky to be able to accompany my husband, puppeteer Noel MacNeal, on a business trip to London. I remember we went out to a pub with some British friends, and one handed me the latest Time Out London and said, “You might want to take a look at the Cabinet War Rooms — despite what you Yanks may think, World War II didn’t start on December 7, 1941.”

So I decided to have a look the next day, and had a completely transformative experience. The museum is in the actual underground bunker where Churchill and his staff ran the war during the Blitz, and there are many places where you can do a complete turn and see it just as it must have been during the war. For a moment I really did feel like time had telescoped in on itself, and I’d somehow been transported to the war rooms of 1940. And I knew I wanted to write about it.

Have you been able to visit the places depicted in your books – Bletchley Park, the “finishing school” for spies in Scotland, etc.? If so, what was that like?

Yes, I’ve been very fortunate to be able to travel to many of the places I’ve written about. It’s always thrilling to me. I usually travel alone (or at least do my research alone) and I feel like my characters come with me!

For His Majesty’s Hope, I went to Berlin and a good friend of mine, who’s also a working mom, came with me. So much of the research was disturbing, I was grateful to have someone to have dinner with and laugh with at the end of the day.

What made you decide to take Maggie to Berlin (and behind enemy lines) in this third book?

Well, Maggie has paid her dues, both psychologically and physically. She’s now exactly the kind of spy the SOE would have wanted to send behind enemy lines. She’s certainly come a long way since she started out as Mr. Churchill’s secretary!

Do you have a favorite period detail or incident you’ve come across in your research?

I love vintage perfumes and have been known to track them down on eBay. It’s like time travel in a bottle. Even though it doesn’t necessarily make it into the book, I know what perfume or cologne each character wears (or doesn’t wear).

Can you tell us a bit about Maggie’s upcoming fourth adventure?

Yes! In The Prime Minister’s Secret Agent, we follow Maggie to Scotland, where she’s become an instructor at one of the spy training camps, and is trying to make sense of her experiences in Berlin. And, of course, she’s pulled into a mystery. Meanwhile, diplomatic relations between the U.S. and Japan are eroding and the Japanese plan their attack on Pearl Harbor, using spies (one German, one Japanese) on the Hawaiian island of Oahu. The ultimate attack on the U.S., and the U.S. finally entering World War II, will have profound reverberations for Maggie.

Thank you so much for having me as a guest!

Thanks, Susan! Be sure to check out His Majesty’s Hope and Maggie’s other adventures.

*I received an advance reading copy of His Majesty’s Hope, but was not compensated for this review or interview.

May reading roundup #1

The Importance of Being Seven, Alexander McCall Smith
The sixth Scotland Street novel finds Matthew and Elspeth expecting triplets (!), Angus and Domenica traveling to Italy on holiday, and Bertie struggling, as ever, with his overbearing mother, Irene (and longing to turn seven). Fun and philosophical and gently satirical, like all the other books in this amusing series.

The End of Night, Paul Bogard
Our night skies are disappearing, due to the increasing brightness and volume of man-made light. Bogard visits a wide range of bright and dark places – from the dazzling Las Vegas Strip to Acadia National Park in Maine – to explore the effects of light pollution on our health, our public spaces and our society. His deep love for the night is infectious, and his interviews with folks ranging from astronomers to night-shift workers are fascinating. To review for Shelf Awareness (out July 9).

Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake, Anna Quindlen
I loved this warm, witty book of essays, in which Quindlen touches on everything from the importance of girlfriends to the profound changes wrought by the women’s movement during her lifetime. She writes wisely and often humorously about marriage, motherhood, family and aging – it felt like I was sitting across the table, listening as she shared her wisdom. Wonderful.

Someday, Someday, Maybe, Lauren Graham
Aspiring actress Franny Banks came to NYC after college, determined to make it big in three years – and she’s got six months left. Graham (whom I loved on Gilmore Girls) has created a fun first novel, full of New York moments, sly humor and wonderful mid-90s details (answering services, high-top sneakers, pay phones). Franny is funny, smart and full of spunk, and I rooted for her the whole way. The ending was a bit abrupt, but this was a wonderful ride.

The Romeo and Juliet Code, Phoebe Stone
After leaving England, 11-year-old Felicity is dropped off at her grandmother’s house in Maine while her stylish, mysterious parents return to Europe to pursue their secret work. When Felicity’s uncle starts receiving top-secret letters from her father, Felicity and her new friend Derek investigate. I found Felicity naive and bratty at first, but I did enjoy the story, and I eventually warmed to her. Fun weekend reading.

Calling Me Home, Julie Kibler
African-American hairdresser Dorrie is surprised when her favorite (white) client, Miss Isabelle, asks a big favor: she wants Dorrie to drive her from Texas to Cincinnati for a funeral. As the women travel north, Isabelle shares her story of falling in love with a black boy as a teenager in 1930s Kentucky. Meanwhile, single mom Dorrie is dealing with her own problems, and wondering whether she can trust the new man in her life. I found 1930s Isabelle a bit naive and selfish, but I liked both Dorrie and present-day Isabelle, and several plot twists kept me turning the pages.

Mrs. ‘Arris Goes to Paris, Paul Gallico
I loved this spunky, sweet tale of a British charwoman who saves her money for years so she can jaunt over to Paris and buy herself a Dior gown. The gown is exquisite, of course, but the people Mrs. Harris meets, and the connections they forge, are the best part of the story. (Also: the flowers.) Recommended by Jaclyn. Similar to Miss Pettigrew, shorter and simpler but just as charming.

The September Society, Charles Finch
Victorian gentleman detective Charles Lenox returns for a second case, investigating the death of a young man at Oxford (his alma mater). I loved the visits to 1860s Oxford, different from and yet so similar to the Oxford I know and adore. And I like Lenox, a thoughtful and principled detective, and his circle of friends. Great fun.

Ready for a Brand New Beat, Mark Kurlansky
Released at the beginning of the “Freedom Summer” of 1964, “Dancing in the Street” became the anthem of an unsettled generation. Kurlansky delves into the history of music in mid-century America, the origins of Motown, the civil rights movement and the continuing life of the song, which endures today. Fascinating and well-researched, with plenty of outsize personalities. To review for Shelf Awareness (out July 11).

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Weekend in the Berkshires

Since we moved to New England, people have been telling us we needed to visit the Berkshires, which is only a couple of hours from Boston but might as well be another world. We spent a recent weekend there, celebrating J’s birthday, exploring half a dozen charming little towns and touring a historic Shaker village. It was green and fresh and blooming, quiet and relaxed and charming, and simply lovely.

We stayed at the Apple Tree Inn, eating breakfast on the veranda, playing Super Scrabble in the living room, reading in the front yard, and taking deep breaths of the spicy, woodsy air all around.

Just up the road was Lenox, where we stuffed ourselves with pasta at Frankie’s, savored ice cream at The Scoop, and sampled a range of tapas (and sangria) at Brava. (Fried calamari + patatas bravas = YUM.)

Lenox boasts one bookstore, aptly named The Bookstore, where I found a wonderful old hardcover edition of Anne Frank’s diary (complete with newspaper clippings about Otto Frank) and a copy of a brand-new E.B. White collection on dogs. (He and I share a deep affinity for dachshunds.) They have a wonderfully eclectic selection and an enormous amount of poetry. I could have browsed for hours.

I spent far too much money at Colorful Stitches, a gorgeous two-story yarn shop, and we also stopped by the Lenox library book sale, where J and I each scored a $2 find. (We figured that balanced out the big yarn bill.) From there we drove to Lee, where we poked around a bit and had lunch at the Starving Artist Creperie & Cafe. (Delicious.)

We then drove up to the aforementioned Shaker village, where we saw medicinal herb gardens complete with cool old seed boxes:

There were also baby animals, and lots of old farm equipment, some of which J tried out:

I was fascinated by the looms and spinning wheels, once used by the women of the community:

On Sunday, after checking out, we drove to Great Barrington and enjoyed omelets at Martin’s, then spent a while wandering around Main Street and its environs. The sun was out and so were the locals.

Just before leaving, we enjoyed some (more) ice cream at the SoCo Creamery shop. This was the same brand served at The Scoop in Lenox, and it is delectable. That blue concoction you see below is called Cookie Monster. Nom nom nom.

All in all, a perfect (and delicious) weekend. We’ll be going back.

Cambridge haunts: Darwin’s

Since starting my new job at the end of February, I’ve been exploring my new Cambridge neighborhood, wandering through the bustling streets lined with shops and cafes (and taking refuge in the latter on frigid days).

I was already familiar with Crema and its delicious tomato soup, but I have a new favorite sandwich shop: Darwin’s, tucked away on Mt. Auburn Street right across from the yard with all the crocuses.

Darwin’s has two sides: one is a coffee-shop-cum-cafe, where you can get a hot drink and a pastry and take them to go, or settle down at one of the small square tables. The other, with a punched-tin ceiling painted red, is a sandwich-shop-cum-mini-market, where you can buy fruit, veggies, beer or even day-old breads while waiting for your order.

Behind the counter, a line of cheery, flannel-clad hipsters dance around each other, chopping and slicing ingredients and assembling sandwiches, most of which are named after nearby streets or Harvard campus buildings. As you move up the line, you have a clear view of a pastry case filled with tempting cookies and other treats.

My favorite sandwich so far is the Longfellow, which involves ham and cheese, sliced green apple, lettuce, tomato and spicy Dijon mustard. It’s delicious, even if the ingredients tend to escape from the bread after a few bites. But mostly I love the funky local vibe, the friendly staff, and the cafe walls painted the colors of a Texas sunset.

When I forget to bring my lunch (or we’re out of leftovers), you can often find me here, alternately reading my book and people-watching as I savor my sandwich and a cookie.