Crossed Skis by Carol Carnac (1952)

A murder in London leads to the investigation of an English skiing party in Austria.

Mystery Review: Crossed Skis is the perfect book for that mystery-loving skier in your life, while still accessible to non-skiers. Part of the excellent British Library Crime Classics series, the story bounces back and forth between the initial investigation in London and the holiday celebrations of the 16-strong British skiing party in Austria, until the two lines converge in a worthy climax. In Crossed Skis Carnac eagerly shares her vibrant enthusiasm for the sport while providing intense and detailed descriptions of the discomforts of traveling across the Continent, the difficulties of changing money, and the restrictions posed by the occupied countries of Cold War Europe and the recent iron curtain. There's a persistent undercurrent of dislike for foreigners and the Irish in particular (exemplified by the single Irish member of the party) come in for heavy slagging with nary a mention of 800 years of oppression. The mystery aspects of Crossed Skis are a well done police procedural with an interesting discussion of profiling the perp. On the other hand, there are too many characters to follow comfortably (I gave up) and the number of suspects soon becomes unwieldy. This is my second book by the highly prolific Edith Caroline Rivett (1894-1958), better known as Carol Carnac or E.C.R. Lorac among other pseudonyms. One small note, "skiing" is written as "ski-ing" throughout suggesting that an accepted spelling for the growing sport hadn't yet been established.  [3★]

The Walls of Jericho by Rudolph Fisher (1928)

In Harlem, a lawyer moves into a white neighborhood as a furniture mover looks for love.

Book Review: The Walls of Jericho is light on plot but rich in character, atmosphere, and color. The first novel by Rudolph Fisher (1897-1934), a member of the Harlem Renaissance, who provides an energetic and insightful view of the black mecca of America. The lengthy centerpiece of the novel is the Annual Costume Ball, which all Harlem, high and low (literally), attends. As well as showing the caste system in Harlem, Fisher presents the good guys and bad guys of black society and the mostly clueless white visitors. The protagonist hates white people and the white people want to help black folks in the worst way. Climate change and 1619 get mentioned along the way -- everything old is new again. Comic relief and subplot in The Walls of Jericho is provided by BFFs Bubber and Jinx, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in different clothes. The characters reappeared as suspects in Fisher's later mystery novel, The Conjure-Man Dies (1932), and in a short story, "One Month's Wages" (2008), generously included as a bonus in this volume by the British branch of HarperCollins. The story is enjoyable, and includes a version of a scene in Conjure-Man. In addition to a Preface and Introduction, this volume also contains "An Introduction to Contemporary Harlemese, Expurgated and Abridged," which includes such words as "belly-rub," "dickty," "K.M.," "salty dog," and "tight." Curious whether Fisher aimed this novel more at a black or white audience, I found The Walls of Jericho to be quick, entertaining, and educational all at the same time.  [4★]

Pnin by Vladimir Nabokov (1957)

A Russian immigrant struggles to find his place in American academia.

Book Review: Pnin is a story made of incidents found in the middle of the life of a fumbling Russian émigré of the same name trying to make it in American academia. Sweet, gentle, sad, subtle, warm, loving. Moments found during a difficult time but the reader hopes he will survive. Intelligently written with wonderfully detailed descriptions. Little plot, more of a soft water color of a novel. Bittersweet -- pity the poor immigrant but admire his endless resilience and capacity for humor and friendship. Brief moments of intense sorrow, sometimes enormous and at other times quite small, that grab the reader's heart no matter what. Multilingually literary, but a simple story that should be read slowly. Historical moments of the time come into focus briefly, then are eclipsed by Pnin's life. What's occurring in the outer world isn't the subject, more a counterpoint to what's happening to our hero. And it's all too brief. Nabokov only gives us sketches and then is off sketching something other. Despite being repeatedly and cruelly abused, exploited, and manipulated by his ex-wife, Pnin keeps helping her and Nabokov doesn't make us despise Pnin for letting himself be used, but instead respect him for his generosity and ability to love. This reaches its apotheosis in his fondness for her son, Victor, which is the fleeting heart of the book. We want to know more about his interaction with his stepson in this anti-Lolita, we want to share the warmth and depth of their relationship, but Nabokov has already moved on somewhere else. This could have, should have, been the center of the novel, but it's not. For me Pnin was incomplete, undeveloped, too little. Many people think the novel is hilarious, but for me it was just a few chuckles because the humor seemed literal, so much of it was believable and real. A marvel of good writing (perhaps over my head), but too minimal a story.  [3★]

The Conjure-Man Dies by Rudolph Fisher (1932)

After the murder of a Harlem psychic a police detective and local doctor join forces to solve the mystery.

Mystery Review: The Conjure-Man Dies demonstrates that the Harlem Renaissance brought notable achievements in African American poetry, music, art, dance, theater, and … a murder mystery. Rudolph Fisher (1897-1934), a medical doctor, hung with the likes of Langston Hughes and Paul Robeson (Hughes said Fisher had "the wittiest and sharpest humor"). His varied and creative biography is worthy of a book despite his short life. In The Conjure-Man Dies a Harlem psychic is murdered and a police detective and local doctor form a crime-solving bromance. If Agatha Christie and Dashiell Hammett co-wrote a book it would look a lot like this as Fisher seamlessly combines their disparate styles. As might be expected with a doctor for a protagonist, medical and scientific techniques play a major role in resolving the case. Even more intriguing, the victim becomes a suspect! The conclusion was somewhat overdone and convoluted, but didn't detract from my enjoyment. As did Zora Neale Hurston, Fisher presents both the good and bad of the black community, painting an honest, realistic, and colorful  portrait. As far as I could tell there was only one white character in the book (a walk-on part, and not a villain). The Conjure-Man Dies features numerous humorous moments similar to what Chester Himes later did in his Harlem Detectives series featuring black detectives Coffin Ed Johnson and Grave Digger Jones, but considerably less violent. I can't help but think that Himes must've read this book. I read the Library of Congress Crime Classics edition which has helpful and interesting annotations, as well as an Introduction, bibliography, biographical chapter, and a reminiscence by his granddaughter. There are about a dozen novels in the series so far putting the spotlight on a widely diverse range of mystery authors from 1860 to 1960. The Conjure-Man Dies is also available in the Collins Crime Club edition, which isn't annotated but includes an introduction by Stanley Ellin and adds an excellent short story reuniting the detectives from this novel, "John Archer's Nose," in which an odor plays a key role. Rudolph Fisher also wrote one other novel, The Walls of Jericho (1928), and several short stories.  [4★]

The Door by Magda Szabo (1987)

The fraught 20-year relationship between an older woman and a younger one.

Book Review: The Door is the book for those who enjoy getting punched in the gut. I only find a couple books a year with that effect. This is the powerfully affecting story of two women, the strained relationship between a novelist and her cleaner (wow, that description does not do it justice). The women are opposites, the writer young, modern, educated, religious, artistic, while the domestic is old, rooted in the past, almost illiterate, impious, straightforward, immune to pretense. The center of the novel is the house cleaner, Emerence, who is difficult, mercurial, wholly independent, unpredictable, elemental, almost mythic, strong as an oak tree. The women form a tempestuous bond, neither willing to give in or appear weak (reminiscent of Elena Ferrante's My Brilliant Friend). Both women are proud, refusing to show vulnerability, and both can fly into sudden rages for little apparent reason (or perhaps that's a Hungarian stereotype). There are elements of The Door that seem distinctly Hungarian and outside my experience, but unlike some novels of this type the reader is not immersed wholly in an exotic ethnic and cultural world. The narrator, a woman whose biography is much like that of Szabó herself (named Magda, a writer prevented from publishing, married and childless), could be any modern European. This was my first book by noted Hungarian author Magda Szabó (1917-2007), who now has five novels published by NYRB. It took me a few pages to get into Szabó's rhythm, but then the story flowed effortlessly. Although in The Door Magda is the one who is church-going and a novelist, arguably Emerence is the more religious, the better Christian, the greater artist in her appreciation of the world, and the story digs into her history, which is essentially the arc of the whole novel as presented through Magda's memories. The novel can be appreciated and enjoyed solely on a level of human interaction between the women, Emerence and Magda can also be read as the contrast between the past and future. Emerence as the history of Hungary, as the past all crumbles (literally) in the end. There is much of history: the Second World War (Hungary was an Axis country), the subsequent Communist repression, the easing of the Iron Curtain. At times the story is mythic, or with a touch of magical realism, and even an ironic sense of humor. At times the story reminded me of Elena Ferrante and My Brilliant Friend (which here too leaves one wondering which is the brilliant friend). The Door has a refreshing maturity (much like Ferrante), or at least lacks the self-indulgence that I find present in much English language literature.  [5★]

Death on the Nile by Agatha Christie (1937)

Poirot foresees tragedy while alone on holiday in Egypt.

Mystery Review: Death on the Nile is one of her best and here Christie brings more big mystery energy than usual while simultaneously ramping up the romance. Sort of a three weddings and five funerals kind of thing. She presents a wide cast sprinkled with her effortless twists, turns, and red herrings. This is one of her overseas (or colonial) excursions where Christie seems to feel a little freer to let it all hang out. At heart this is one of her darker books. The characters get a little more background than usual and the mystery is top drawer. Two caveats. First, I guessed the perp early, which I don't usually do. If the solution is apparent to most readers I'd consider this a flaw. I assume, however, most won't solve it easily and I just suffered a misfiring neuron. Second caveat. Less than an hour after finishing Death on the Nile I watched the Kenneth Branagh adaptation. It's certainly Great Gatsby glitzy (for no obvious reason) and over the top, but very much a disappointment as there's little genuine Poirot or Christie to be found while the book's plot was needlessly modified and simplified. If not jarring, awkward, and pointless, the movie's Sister Rosetta Tharp homage would've been its only saving grace. Other than that Death on the Nile is the Queen of Mystery in top form.  [5★]

Men Without Women by Ernest Hemingway (1927)

Fourteen stories from Hemingway's early period.

Book Review: Men Without Women was published the year following The Sun Also Rises. As with all such collections some entries are good and some weak. A few are among his most acclaimed and popular: "In Another Country," on the vulnerabilities of strong men; "The Killers," which was the basis for a notable film with Burt Lancaster; and "Fifty Grand," the story of an aging and damaged boxer. Hemingway's favorite themes are here, bullfighting, love, and war. There's even a story about homosexuality (presented not unsympathetically) and a short play about the first Good Friday. The best story in the book is "Hills Like White Elephants," an example of his iceberg theory. Others are too obvious ("A Canary for One") and "An Alpine Idyll" seems more like a barroom tale than the work of a craftsman. Men Without Women was published when Hemingway was 28, yet several of the stories involve the travails of aging and end of life. Whether he was trying to present as tough or simply representing his characters and the time, there's more than a fair share of racial epithets in these stories. Men Without Women is also the title of a book by Haruki Murakami, which is unlikely to be a coincidence. Despite the uneven nature of this collection, it's well worth reading for the work of someone who labored hard over his sentences.  [3★]