Lory

Michelle Cooper takes the basic premise of I Capture the Castle (eccentric father and variously charming/feisty/driven/thoughtful children, including one compulsive diarist) in a crumbling castle, and plunks it on a fictional nearly-uninhabited island 200 miles south of Cornwall. Oh, and makes them royalty. Plus, there are Nazis, a Grail quest, ghosts, family secrets, an underground crypt, and more. It could have been a disaster, but Cooper's writing is so sure-handed I'd follow it anywhere. Her characters are believable and engaging, and their story is both funny and heart-rending. More! (Fortunately, there are two sequels.)

I have to mention, though, that I find it a bit odd that the Montmaravian “royals” never question their right to be rulers, although they essentially have nobody to rule over. What is the point of that, exactly? Maybe this will get taken up later in the series...

Entertaining mystery set in Sicily, with a structure that could have been too confusing and contrived, but somehow worked for me - the “author” is the title character's nephew, a writer working on a family saga that never gets off the ground, who visits Poldi periodically and ends up writing about her amateur sleuthing adventures instead.

Lots of local color and an eccentric MC (based on the real author's real aunt) make this an amusing way to while away a few hours. I might try reading the next adventure in the original German, hoping not to get too derailed by Bavarian dialect.

Also great to have an older woman as the energetic and sensual center of the story, egging her nephew on to live life more fully, but her periodic bouts of depression and recurrent wish to drink herself to death added a jarring note. Also, her wig slipping off kept distracting me. What did she look like without the wig? Did this not interfere with her amorous adventures? The nephew wondered this too, but she did not answer him.

See my full review at The Emerald City Book Review. I have to admit that I had a difficult time puzzling out what was metaphor, what was delusion, and what was reality, and that this made me uncomfortable. There were some indications that what certain characters described as otherworldly creatures or phenomena (e.g. ogres) had a more mundane explanation, and that the pre-conceptions of the characters determined the world they perceived. This is an interesting philosophical point, but disorienting when applied to a story, in which generally the author is performing the magic trick of making us believe in something that doesn't exist. It matters not whether that something is a dragon or a duchess or a dachshund; within the world of a story it must gain being and presence, or why bother with it?

This dis-orientation was inconsistent. There were times when it was very hard to imagine an alternative explanation for what the characters were describing, other than that they were all completely insane. And yet, if that were the case, what could be gained from entering into their fractured minds? Are we meant to reflect on our own self-delusional versions of an impenetrable reality? That's a stage on everyone's quest, but to me it cannot be the end. I believe in meaning and wholeness, and if that betrays my lack of sophistication as a reader and human being, but so be it. I'm not interested in subversion for its own sake, only when it helps to break us through to a higher level of understanding.

Though I enjoyed parts of the journey, and grew to care for some of the characters, in the end I was left frustrated and dissatisfied. Perhaps a reread will enlighten me further as to what Ishiguro might have been trying to say, but right now I'm not at all sure.