Mysteries I Would Re-read

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Mystery Writers,” by Nana B Agyei licensed under CC BY 2.0

In the second installment of “books I would re-read” I consider mysteries. This strikes me as perhaps a peculiar category because once you’ve read a mystery, you know how it turns out. That is, unless you’ve forgotten, which for some of the mysteries on this page, is the case for me. For all of them, it is the mastery of the story-telling, how the author has woven the plot. So here are some mysteries so good, I’d be happy to enjoy them again.

G. K. Chesterton, The Man Who Was Thursday. This fantastic story, subtitled “A Nightmare” concerns the infiltration of an anarchist group, where nothing that occurs is as it seems. A wild romp!

Agatha Christie, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. Many consider this one of her best. Poirot comes out of retirement to solve this murder, and I loved the surprise ending.

Agatha Christie, 4:50 from Paddington. Mrs. McGillicuddy is sure she has witnessed a murder, yet no body is found. Enter her good friend, Miss Marple! With Agatha Christie, I just had to include two to get in a Poirot and a Marple.

Wilkie Collins, The Moonstone. This is considered the first and one of the greatest mysteries, centering around a diamond from India. Collins created the art. Another of his masterpieces is The Woman in White.

P.D. James, A Taste for Death. James’ Adam Dalgliesh, a poet and detective, has some of the most penetrating insights into the human soul of any detective. This is one of the best in the series, but it might be time for me to re-read them all!

Charlie Lovett, The Bookman’s Tale. Peter Byerly has recently lost is wife at a young age and moved to the village of Kingham, England, living in the cottage he and Amanda renovated just before her death. In an effort to resume his bookselling career he peruses the shelves of a local bookseller. Inside a volume on literary forgeries, he discovers a watercolor that must be a hundred years old that could have been a painting of his wife. His quest to find the origin of this work results in his being framed for a murder.

Louise Penny, Still Life. This work introduces us to Chief Inspector Gamache and Three Pines. I am new to this series and only beginning my first reading. But I can tell there is plenty here for re-readings should I live that long!

Elizabeth Peters, The Crocodile on the Sandbank. This is the first of Elizabeth Peters’ (Barbara Mertz) Amelia Peabody stories. My wife and I had ten years of delight reading through this series, but that was a decade ago.

Dorothy L. Sayers, The Nine Tailors. The setting, in a country church, the nine bells that are the nine tailors, provide a wonderful backdrop for a mystery regarding a mysterious scrap of paper, a grave with the wrong body in it, and an absent-minded rector. Many consider this Sayers’ best. I concur.

Josephine Tey, Brat Farrar. Brat Farrar is an orphan, a doppelganger of Simon Ashby’s missing brother Patrick, and is persuaded by a former friend of Simon’s to impersonate the brother. He succeeds, yet unknown to him, Simon is on to him but does not say anything. The plot hinges on discovering why.

I’m sure you will have many others to add to this list and that you might have a few of your own. But these, especially the ones that are part of a series, offer the promise of many diverting evenings sheltering at home.

 

Fiction I Would Re-Read

close up of books on shelf

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

I wrote yesterday about having a hoard of books to read during stay at home orders or whatever they are called in your part of the world I suggested that at least part of our hoard might be those that you would want to re-read. Here are some of the fiction titles I have loved that I want to come back to and give another read.

Wendell Berry, Hannah Coulter. Really I could have included any of the Port William stories, but this one of tracing a love, the scars of warfare, and generations was quite wonderful.

Anthony Doerr, All The Light We Cannot See. This story of a German boy and a blind French girl whose paths cross as the Germans occupy Saint Malo is one of the most stunningly beautiful books published in the last ten years in my opinion.

Charles Dickens, David Copperfield. A big book. Memorable characters. The mirror image of Dickens (Dickens initials reversed).

Fyodor Doestoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov. For the depths of psychological insights into family and the philosophical explorations of the book.

C.S. Lewis. Till We Have Faces. The book Lewis thought his best, that readers thought his most difficult, and that has grown with each reading.

Alan Paton, Cry, the Beloved Country. Paton’s novel, set in apartheid Africa, focuses on love of country and land and the possibility of reconciliation despite grievous loss.

Wallace Stegner, Angle of Repose. The writing of a history of family becomes the summing up of one’s life. I love all of his writing about the American West.

John Steinbeck, East of Eden. Steinbeck considered it his magnum opus. I would agree.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings. People hate Tolkien or love him. I’m in the latter camp, and find each reading richer than the last. My first was in college. My last was around the time of the movies. It might be time again

Homer, The Odyssey. One of the oldest works of fiction and one of the longest journeys home.

These ten books could carry me a long way through this quarantine (which for me really means until there is a vaccine). What books would be on your list?

Forgetful Reading

Anna KareninaHave you ever had this happen to you? You are talking with a friend about books and a title comes up that you remember really enjoying, but darned if you can remember much of what it was about? And yet, when watching the Lord of the Rings movies, I could spot every deviation from Tolkien’s text. How can this be?

New York Review of Books blog article by Tim Parks titled “Reading is Forgetting” helped make some sense of this for me. He quoted Vladimir Nabokov, who once commented, “Curiously enough, one cannot read a book: one can only reread it.” Nabokov observes that the physical effort of reading line by line down a page and absorbing what is there makes it almost impossible to fully grasp the meaning of what we’ve read on a first reading. In fact, I can never fully recall all the richness of any book, even with multiple readings. But what happens with re-reading is that I’m reminded of some of what I’ve forgotten, I begin to make connections, and see more of the depths of what came out of the writer’s mind.

I wrote yesterday about reviewing, and I can see how we reviewers can sometimes get a book wrong. Most of the books I read, I read only once. And many books don’t deserve more than one reading. I can see particularly how reviewers who are assigned books and must review a number of so-so, or outright bad books may get a book wrong, even if they’ve read it through. We may miss or forget important things on a first reading. What we most remembered was our affective response to the book–how we felt about it. And, at least for me, that lingers long after my reading, and long after I recall the details of characters, plot, and quality of writing.

Reviewing, as I’ve commented before, is partly a memory device for me. That works in two ways. One is that it actually makes me more attentive while I’m reading. I’m thinking, what are the main points of the writer’s argument? What are the main elements of the plot, the significant characters? And I’m thinking about my reactions. Why don’t I like this writing? Where am I in agreement and where not with the argument of this book? I don’t tend to take notes or write things down as I read so much as have a continuing mental dialogue with the book. Then, writing the review serves to crystallize this mental summary of and dialogue with the book I’ve been reading. Almost always, I will write the review after one reading, unless I feel I just haven’t grasped the book and yet think it worth writing about. I will skim most books again before writing to try to get the book as a whole in clearer focus.

Then there are those treasured few books that I read and re-read. Tolkien is one, that I’ve read about five or six times over forty years. Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Life Together is another that I’ve read four or five times over about thirty-five years. Alan Paton’s Cry the Beloved Country seems to engage me in new ways each time I read it. The Bible falls in this category as well. It is a massive work written over a thousand years by numerous human writers and yet continued reading and grasping more of the connections between parts of the text make this an ever-rich encounter for me.

One of my vacation book buys was the new Pevear and Volokhonsky translation of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. Like so many, I read this book back in high school. I’ve also gathered from many (including the bookseller who rang up my purchase) that re-reading this work is an engaging experience. We’ll see, and see what memories, hopefully good ones, it brings back of my high school reading.

Have you had this experience of forgetting a book you liked? And are there books you remember, that have become friends as you’ve read and re-read them?

Re-reading by Mistake

Have you ever had this happen? You picked up a book that looked interesting, began reading it and had this vague suspicion that the book you thought you were reading for the first time was in fact one you had read before? And as you go along, suspicion becomes certainty. This is what happened to me recently when I started reading an edition of John Steinbeck’s The Winter of our Discontent. Not only did the plot seem familiar, but I discovered I had read this book a couple years ago and had written a Goodreads review.

Sigh! I suspect this reflects one of the hazards of reading lots of books! From the date of the review, I’ve probably read over two hundred books since then. I suspect the different edition may have thrown me, leading me to believe I hadn’t read this book. At least my memory isn’t totally failing–I recognized the plot and characters as familiar once I began reading!

John Steinbeck during his trip to accept Nobel Prize in 1962 Attribution: By Nobel Foundation [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

John Steinbeck during his trip to accept Nobel Prize in 1962
Attribution: By Nobel Foundation [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

So what do you do? Do you lay it down because you’ve already read the book? There are probably some books where the answer would be yes. But this is Steinbeck and I’ve come to love his writing. I know that I would someday like to re-read East of Eden for example. In the case of this book, Steinbeck explores the issue of personal integrity and the choice many of us wrestle with between integrity and “playing the game” where one maintains a veneer of being upstanding while cutting all kinds of ethical corners because that is just what it takes to get ahead.

I’m glad I’ve re-read the book. My previous reading focused on the main character, Ethan Allan Hawley, and his personal “winter of discontent”. What I’ve noticed this time through is social context and Steinbeck’s treatment of the hypocrisies of prevailing morality and the ironies of who is really “honest”.

There are books I’ve re-read intentionally, sometimes four or five times over the years. I do so because of their richness that seems to grow with each re-reading, perhaps because I’m at a different place in life as well, and the book reads me differently. I think something like that is going on with my “accidental” re-reading of Steinbeck.

Have you ever had this happen? What books have you come back to and re-read and what was that experience like for you?