Jane Steele is a fun, action-filled homage to the Gothic triple deckers of the Victorian age. It has the classic tropes: Girl orphaned young, named Jane, abused by the wealthier kinfolk she lives with, sent away to horror-show school and becomes governess … I go into books labeled ‘reimaginings’ with gun-shy wariness. Like satire, it can be a fine line between brilliant and obnoxious, too cute or cloying. Steele is not a satire of the genre, but it is sly and winking, more like a quiet unspoken joke between old friends. Jane Steele is even published as a triple decker — thankfully under one cover. It’s action-filled and just tons of fun with some great characters I deeply hope to see again.
Steele, is also unflinching from the ugliness in ugly people, and hardships of the time. Some of that ugliness is only hinted at in those classic Gothic novels we love, but here if someone is a sexual predator, it’s said/shown.
Anyone shying away from the ‘serial killer’ tag — I think it’s not used well here. Jane Steele isn’t a serial killer. More like a vigilante, or frankly just someone who lives in hard place during a hard time. The violence is largely unflinching, but far from Tarantino-esque. This isn’t a cozy knitting mystery, but I think the majority of readers won’t be put off by the violence.
Faye’s descriptions are gold, building tension then giving readers that pinching little twist of anticipation making payoffs that much sweeter. Book to book, she just gets better and better.
I really enjoyed the Blake & Avery series of historic thrillers by historian M.J. Carter last year. And my (not so) idle curiosity went ahead and tweeted the author herself when one could expect Blake & Avery 3 —–
It wasn’t entirely presumptuous on my part she was working on it, she’s tweeted before that the manuscript was underway.
So, this is what I learned:
So, there we have it. It will hopefully be a later 2016 release, and not need to be put off further still. Until then, I hope M.J. Carter feels better!
It’s been three years since Jeremiah Blake and bibliophile William Avery teamed up in India for what was one of the most enjoyable books I’ve read recently (The Strangler Vine) — getting in on the ground floor as it were of a new series. The Infidel Stain takes us to London in the early 1840s, into the orbit of publishers and pornographers, dissidents and rebels. Oh, and of course, murder. It’s one of those novels that just oozes with atmosphere of dank and dark London, after a terrifying time in the dangerous jangals of India. Our heroes have become something of celebrities given their encounter with Xavier Mountstuart. We learn a little more about the mysterious Jeremiah Blake’s background in this novel, which was interesting, to say the least. We don’t get much more of Avery, which I would have enjoyed. Maybe the only thing I’d have expected was that ardent bibliophile William Avery, on a rare visit to The City would indulge himself in a visit to a bookshop.
Historically rich, and textured, a thriller that had me reading late in huge gulps.
Ok, an admission: I liked the first book better. But with reports of Blake & Avery 3 well underway, I can’t wait to see what happens next. This book was published as The Printer’s Coffin in the United Kingdom.
We read Station Eleven aloud, and … wow. My partner now wants to read more post-apocalyptic stuff (I recommended: Alas, Babylon). We follow the intertwining strands of several people’s lives who experience a nearly extinction level pandemic in the near future. I didn’t find it overly gruesome the way some books in the genre go, though there is death and injury, and other unsettling events, as anyone would expect. The book does a lot of slipping and sliding in the timeline, but these shifts are handled deftly by Emily St John Mandel. The post-apocalyptic chapters and scenes largely take place 20 years after the pandemic, which is very interesting. If you’re at all interested, I know you’ll look at more reviews, and have probably already heard of this book. I’m just adding my voice to the choir singing its praises. It’s a creepy, beautiful, touching story about family, survival, and at its core: art. I loved it.
If you’re a follower of many bloggers, talkers, and reviewers in the bibliosphere (i.e., booklr, bookstagram, et. al.), you’ve probably already heard about Charlie Lovett’s new book, First Impressions. I received a copy of Lovett’s latest bibliomystery from his publisher for review.
It’s good.
For a long time I was a “Decide to read a book, finish it no matter what” reader. If I chose poorly, it was an act of contrition to the bibliogods to finish a crappy book.
But, I began to feel like Life’s Too Short for that kind of strict observance. I asked around what other readers did. Some read to page 100, which seemed like a lot. I was surprised how many were like me — finish it no matter what. Those who would drop a stinker didn’t follow any guidelines, which should have been obvious had I also lead that kind of bohemian, lawless lifestyle like some kind of flamboyantly dressed Borneo ape-man.
Then I heard Nancy Pearl’s good advice, to subtract your age from 100, and that’s the number of pages you should give a book. As you age, and your reading time on earth shortens, and you become a better judge of literature, you don’t have to be quite so full of grace for books that don’t quite deserve to take up precious reading time.
So, for me, that means 66 pages.
By page 40, Fred got his answer:
Yes. Yes, it is a kissing book.
And by page 66 (actually well before page 66 …), I was hooked. But it was good I had adopted that guidance to give First Impressions a fair shake — the opening is cheesier than the pickup lines borne bravely by our protagonist. (An aside: I had a lot of terrible First Impression puns I’ve spared you. You’re welcome.) Not that I’m cheesy-opposed — I’m a big fan of the Aubrey-Mauturin series, but when it comes to romance, I prefer it given a bit more straight.
I found myself drawn in by Sophie Collingwood, a bibliophile in modern London who inherits an amazing library and far more trouble than she ever wanted. A curious bibliophile through and through, I was fascinated to tag along with her for a fun story, intertwined with a story about Jane Austen. I’m no Jane-ite, so I’m definitely not the best one to tell you how accurate/ fulfilling/ uhhh….. Janey(?) that part of the story was, which I know is why many readers will pick this one up. To be honest, I found myself frequently wanting to skip ahead to the modern side of the tale. Not because the Jane side of the story was not interesting, but that I identified more closely with Sophie and her side of the novel.
In the end, it was a good story I’d recommend especially to Anglophile bibliophiles, and I deeply hope it’s a dandy for the Jane Austen fans out there. After all, it’s probably been at least a week since the Jane-ites had a new book to read, which can be way too long for you people. Also in the plus column, I’d rank it highly on “bibliofactor”. The book stuff was meaty and not at all the simple McGuffin some authors try to foist off on us, rather the only setting in which this story could be told. Very good stuff.
Charlie Lovett‘s second foray into bibliomysteries is coming this fall (October it sounds like).
Last year I really enjoyed The Bookman’s Tale, which delves into Shakespeare, art, book collecting, and plenty of mystery and suspense. And a little romance, but not too much. I can be a bit like Fred Savage in The Princess Bride when it comes to the romance sections … Not that I don’t *like* kissing, I do!! It’s just sometimes in mysteries it can feel awkward, or somehow the author felt it was obligatory and characters go through passionless motions, or many other unfortunate experiences mirrored in my own life now now that I’m dating again and … Wow, I am derailed. Anyway….
The Bookman’s Tale was a good read, and includes a satisfying amount of biblio-ness (and art too!). It’s rooted around Shakespeare, which for me is honestly a strike against a bibliomystery (especially a new author!). There have been lots of real mysteries surrounding Shakespeare and his works, and some really exceptional fictional ones too. But, Bookman’s Tale holds up which isn’t surprising once I learned Lovett has a deep passion for rare books, and has spent time doing the necessary research to meet a bibliophile’s critical eye.
It wasn’t that books and the book world were merely the McGuffin to keep the plot plodding along, or that the main character’s employment tangentially involved books — so there’s a few scenes in a library (or the moon for all it matters) — NOT SO! Peter Byerly (the main character) is a rare book dealer who has lost his wife … with lots of flashing back to their early years together (which informs the mystery), which undoubtedly a devoted husband would do at such a time. It was good, not sappy, and certainly not a story that just happens to include a book or two to tell the *real* story of a man and woman falling in love. NOT HERE! The bibliofactor is on the same level of importance as the characters and the setting, which is what I look for in bibliomysteries. So, The Bookman’s Tale is a recommended read from me if you haven’t read it yet. Then you can join me looking forward to First Impressions.
First Impressions, coming out this fall, will also delve into authorship, Jane Austen, and more old books. And being rooted in Jane Austen, I bet there’ll be some kissing and I’ll like it.
Book lover and Austen enthusiast Sophie Collingwood has recently taken a job at an antiquarian bookshop in London when two different customers request a copy of the same obscure book: the second edition of Little Book of Allegories by Richard Mansfield. Their queries draw Sophie into a mystery that will cast doubt on the true authorship of Pride and Prejudice—and ultimately threaten Sophie’s life.
In a dual narrative that alternates between Sophie’s quest to uncover the truth—while choosing between two suitors—and a young Jane Austen’s touching friendship with the aging cleric Richard Mansfield, Lovett weaves a romantic, suspenseful, and utterly compelling novel about love in all its forms and the joys of a life lived in books.
This post was never published, and that was a mistake. And since I’m now planning to leave Montana, I thought I’d better post it while I was still here. The Book Farm may come back once I get settled in Nebraska … it was a lot of fun. So, cast your minds back to December 2011 —-
The snow is piling up this beautifully today, which means the tea kettle has been gurgling away and I’ve been reading. Time for a little break, and also a small realization. I was going to share something with you, dear readers, at the end of the summer, but forgot, and now it’s been months— You know how it is.
I sold books here and there online several years ago and it’s been a hard habit to break. I’ve heard bookselling gets into your blood, and I think it’s true.
As a book lover in a far-flung place without any bookstores, I get out to the garage sales, farm auctions, thrift stores, etc. when I can because that’s where the books are. Pickings ain’t great, but every so often I find something surprising. That’s why we all do it– Anything can be Anywhere.
I’d often find good books cheap — not collectible stuff, or even books I want to add to my shelves, but books that deserved a better home than the burn barrel. (We still burn garbage in Montana). Like the stack of decent hardback Cormac McCarthy for a dime each. I already have what I want of his, but these are books that need a home, and without a used bookshop in the area, there was nowhere to buy from or take them.
This summer I bought a book by Alan Armstrong called Off in Zora, about packing up a VW bus and setting up with his dog (Jefe) and his buddy Tom on the side of the road and sell books all over New England, but further afield too. Not just any books make it into the rolling bookshop. Books he believed in. Books they could talk about. Books worth passing on.
This appealed to me deeply. I also admit I was jealous of all the good bookish talk along the way. Being pretty new still, in my remote Montana community I’ve not met a lot of bookish people, or have many good book-centric conversations. That’s how Armstrong sold books — through conversation.
“I’ve learned from Tom that people need to be sold books. It’s a mistake to think that folks know what they want. Most readers are willing to have their susceptibility tried and even stretched a little. So we swell and puff like Falstaff to share enthusiasms and mind each other’s business, or what’s the passion for? Real booksellers at work glow like musicians when they’re making music.”
And it works. While reading Zora, I found myself with a book in one hand and my phone in the other, buying obscure, unheard of books online from Armstrong’s descriptions. Just wonderful. It also occurred to me, that if this method of selling books worked on me as a reader, perhaps I could make it work in person, though I’ve never been much of a salesman.
The problem is that I’m gainfully employed, and unable to sit at the side of a road somewhere, set up a stand, and wait for traffic. Where I live in northeast Montana, that could mean 5 cars all day.
So, The Book Farm was born. In northern Montana, we have a pretty short gardening season and an even shorter term for our local farmer’s market. It doesn’t open until mid- to late August and closes down at the first freeze, which is usually early October. So, maybe 8 Friday mornings, from 7:30 AM until noon where farm wives and widows come to town with pickups and SUVs full of produce, jams, and bread. I thought, this is where I could sell some books.
I slapped together a few wooden flats from scrap laying around from a few yard projects, and voila! I put a couple of shelves up in the garden shed to house my stock and hit the garage sales hard. I only had a couple of weeks, and had enough boxes to offer maybe 150 books. As any veteran used bookseller will tell you, the trouble isn’t selling books, it’s finding good books to sell.
But, fortune favored the bold — I started out with a little over 100 books that first Friday– and every one of them I could vouch for in some way. I tried to have something I could recommend to most readers, but I also wanted to be able to say — there is no junk here.
Wood book flats for hauling brain food to the farmers market in Sidney, Montana, 2011-2013.
About the Author: Benjamin L. Clark writes and works as a museum curator.
We learned earlier this week on Book Patrol, the long-time bibliophile favorite painting known as The Bookworm by Carl Spitzweg is coming up for sale. Maybe. Apparently there are three versions of the painting by Spitzweg. The one potentially coming up for sale is currently held by the Milwaukee Public Library. They have *not* come out and said they were definitely selling, just that it was something they were considering.
I wondered if this one was the one that hung at Leary’s Book Store in Philadelphia. Leary’s is remembered fondly and well by throngs of bibliophiles, and many remembrances can be found online. It closed in 1968 after operating for “nearly 100 years” and the building was torn down. The quotes are because no one is quite 100% sure when Leary’s was founded, but their history as a book selling operation certainly goes back well over 100 years.
Leary’s has a long history, and its archives are preserved at Temple University. I had no experience at Leary’s being born a decade after it closed, very, very far from Philadelphia, but sounds like a place I would have loved to visit. 500,000 books? Road trip worthy!
1893, Leary, Stuart & Co.
So I dug into my question about the painting, remembering it from Leary’s related ephemera. A cursory search online revealed (to me, and maybe I’m wrong!!), that Leary’s didn’t actually own a copy of the painting, but rather appropriated the image. They had a stained glass window created for the store interior, and incorporated the image as a huge sign on the exterior of the building. The sign, when sold at auction was acquired by the Gale Research Company where it went to Detroit. I wonder if its still there. Or with whoever owns Gale Research now.
1902, Leary, Stuart & Co.
I know I can’t afford the Milwaukee library painting’s auction estimate of $400,000 (and I wouldn’t be surprised if it went for more), but nearly anyone can afford cool Leary’s ephemera from their good-ol-days featuring the work!
1955 postcard featuring The Bookworm hung from mezzanine
On an unrelated note, I hope this post didn’t frighten anyone thinking I was long gone. I won’t get into gory details (this is a book collecting blog!), but shortly after the last post in Dec. 2012 my life exploded, what remained imploded, and then flipped upside down. I’ve been rebuilding since, wandering in exile. I’ll be landing in Lincoln, Nebraska (my hometown) this July, and hope to get settled in quickly, and maybe even get to posting here again on occasion! I’d like that.
The Bookworm sign on the exterior of Leary’s in 1920.
It’s *pouring* snow here in my little corner of Montana this morning. Was only supposed to be a skiff of snow, but it’s at least 4″ of heavy stuff and still pouring down. It’s a good day to take a minute and find my next read. Like many bibliophiles, I can’t help but turn to British “classics” in winter. I’m not sure what it is. Some sense of nostalgia for a place and time I’ve never experienced first-hand must have something to do with it. No matter, I don’t have to understand it to enjoy it. Personally, it’s not Dickens at Christmastime, but Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes, and PG Wodehouse that usually accompany me before my winter’s naps. A recent find was this unknown to me bookThe Mystery of Cloomber. I know nothing except a man (Santa?) is horrified by what he hears. I also happen to know this copy was once in West Virginia.
This copy includes a great book trade label from Bluefield Book & Stationery Company in Bluefield, West Virginia. Like many book stores approaching the 20th Century, they also sold other goods, like cut glass, china, office equipment, stationery along with “All The Latest Books.” I also wonder if this book was in a subscription library of some kind with the contemporary numbered label in the upper corner. Now, where did I put that list?
The Loeb Classical Library celebrates 100 years this year. You can read all about the history of this monumental series over at Wikipedia. But even better, you can start reading the classics themselves thanks to a cool site that has streamlined digital access to these wonderful books.
Also, you can share your love of Loebs in a new-ish Flickr group for folks who love the series.
There is lots of amazing work going on all the time to preserve and share these ancient texts– and more discoveries to be made! Here is William Noel from the Walters Museum of Art in a recent TED Talk about revealing Archimedes. PS, thanks TED people for getting a recording out shortly after it was actually made!
“Reader, I murdered him…., A reimagining of Jane Eyre as a gutsy, heroic serial killer….”
