Editor's note: The opinions of the smart, well-read women in my Denver book club mean a lot, and often determine what the rest of us choose to pile onto our bedside tables. So we asked them, and all Denver Post readers, to share their mini-reviews with you. Have any to offer? Email [email protected].
Cyril Avery was not a real Avery. At least that is what his rather odd adoptive parents, Maude and Charles, remind him frequently. Indeed, according to Charles, they just took him in as an act of Christian charity back in 1945 post-war Ireland, a place ruled by priests who didn't take kindly to unwed, teenage mothers and, as he would discover, even less so to homosexuals. At 7 years old, a boy his age shows up at his house and Cyril develops a crush on him, eventually becoming an obsession, but their friendship can only remain platonic. Cyril denies, then hides his same-sex attraction, as homosexuality was frowned upon and anyone bold or unlucky enough to be discovered suffered discrimination and often, violence and ostracization.
After a short, ill-advised marriage measured in hours rather than years, Cyril flees the country and is finally able to find some degree of acceptance in himself and by others, in countries that seem more tolerant. It would be decades before he is able to return to his homeland, where some progress has been made, including the eventual legalization of same-sex marriage. It comes too late for Cyril, but a hopeful development for one of Cyril's young family members. - 3½ stars (out of 4); Karen Goldie Hartman, Westminster
Another pun-filled Jackson Brodie mystery romp, wrapped in tropes and strewn with red herrings galore, including a couple of art heists, a killer on the loose, mistaken identities, a doddering Marchioness, a voiceless vicar, a wounded war vet, and an unexpected snowstorm that strands all the players in the Big House while a murder mystery weekend unfolds with both expected and unexpected consequences. Atkinson tips her metaphorical hat to both Agatha Christie and the Keystone Kops in this highly entertaining melee. -- 3 1/2 stars (out of 4); Kathleen Lance, Denver
"Isn't connecting people to distant lands and culture one of the strengths of good literature?" Elif Shafak achieves this aim in "The Forty Rules of Love." (Don't let the title mislead you: This is not a rom-com.) Ella, a novice literary assistant, struggles to reconcile her midlife self with who she expected to be. She is previewing a manuscript titled "Sweet Blasphemy," about the 13th century Turkish Sufi and poet, Rumi. "Sweet Blasphemy" was my favorite part of this novel-within-a-novel, as it is related through the vivid impressions of multiple well-drawn characters. Ella's story, and the romance she pursues, was less engaging to me, but I found this book well written and well worth reading. If you collect quotations, you'll find a rich vein of them within Rumi's story, and the 40 rules of the religion of love are truly inspirational. -- 2 1/2 stars (out of 4); Neva Gronert, Parker
This ground-breaking speculative fiction is by one of our first widely popular African-American female writers. With little fanfare, Butler became the author by whom fans evaluate success in the genre. Unfortunately, she passed away unexpectedly, well before what might have been expected. The protagonist of this book is Dana, a young Black woman in California, who is suddenly whisked away to Antebellum South, where she's owned by Rufus, a young white man and his family. She won't exist in the future unless she saves him, which she does repeatedly. Full of intricacies and dire results of a slave-owning Southern culture, we read about the the honest impacts of Americans' collective heritage. Butler didn't rate this book as sci-fi, since no explanation is offered for the fantastic situations. However, the reader surely comes to see that one person's what-ifs are surely everyone's what-ifs. - 3 ½ stars (out of 4); Bonnie McCune (bonniemccune.com)