Monthly Archives: August 2025

Reading lately…fiction

Here are three very different novels–maybe something for everyone? 

Fagin the Thief by Allison Epstein. I never read Oliver Twist, so I only knew that Fagin was a criminal mastermind, a trainer and taskmaster of thieving children, an anti-Semitic character written by a racist author. So I opened the book, determined that if it didn’t grab me right at the beginning, I’d put it aside. I enjoyed it and I’m glad I read it, but it has completely satisfied my interest in Oliver Twist. (I’m not a big Dickens fan.) Books that are riffs on characters in novels are hard to pull off, but great fun to read when they are successful. Kudos to Allison Epstein for this one; it’s an absorbing tale with lots of atmosphere.

So Far Gone by Jess Walter. This was such fun to read, packed with humor, great characters, and a crackling story about love and loss. Crusty old Rhys Kinnick lives off the grid, preferring his own company to the craziness of the outside world. One day, without warning, his two pre-teen grandchildren show up at his door and the world crashes in on him once more. Their mother– estranged from Rhys since he sucker-punched her husband at Thanksgiving dinner–has gone AWOL and wants Rhys to take charge of the children. Garrulous nine-year-old Asher believes he’s a chess prodigy; Leah is a perceptive, wise-cracking twelve-year-old, an expert at eye-rolling. To avoid their angry father and his right-wing associates, the three take to the road, but here I must stop and let you have the pleasure of reading on. I read Walters’ first novel, Beautiful Ruins and loved it. His books are catnip for fans of Carl Hiaasen’s novels and the novel Norwegian By Night by Sheldon Horowitz. It also reminded me of the movie Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? in the best possible way. 

Love is Blind by William Boyd. Boyd is one of the great prose stylists of contemporary British literature. That doesn’t mean that his novels are stuffy, it just means he tells a great, beautifully written story. Years ago, I read his earlier novel, Any Human Heart and loved it; I’ve been waiting for another opportunity to read more of his writing. This new novel is a rich, absorbing tale, set in fin-de-siècle Europe. The main character is Brodie Moncur, a young Scottish piano tuner, talented enough to be just the least bit arrogant. He lands his first job, tuning pianos in Edinburgh, through a favor, moves on to Paris and impresses a piano virtuoso who hires him as his personal piano tuner. When he falls in love with the virtuoso’s lover, Lika, a beautiful seductive singer, his life becomes complicated. Their forbidden passion is more dangerous than Brodie realizes and it sets his life on a different course. 

Question 7 by Richard Flanagan

It’s hard to know where to begin describing this book. It’s a memoir, but a memoir unlike any other I’ve read recently. Flanagan’s Question 7 interweaves stories and incidents from his life with descriptions of some of the most destructive episodes in human history, including the bombing of Hiroshima, the Holocaust, and the eradication of the native population in  Tasmania. Like the chain reactions in an atomic bomb, Flanagan builds to a moving, haunted climax by building his narrative around these events of ruin and loss.

Flanagan opens the memoir by describing his trip to the site of a World War II camp in Japan where his father had been interned as a slave laborer in a coal mine. Guides at the camp deny the existence of slave labor there. Flanagan writes, “Sometimes I wonder why we keep returning to beginnings–why we seek the single thread we might pull to unravel the tapestry we call our life in the hope that behind it we will find the truth of why. But there is no truth, there is only why.” His father’s experience has been erased; it’s one of several lessons in the power and fragility of memory.

In exploring the “why” of memory, Flanagan ranges over various subjects, starting with H.G. Wells’ prescient novel The World Set Free, written in 1913, in which Wells predicted the creation of a weapon of more destructive power than any previously known. Flanagan links Wells’ novel to the scientist Leo Szilard, who helped create the atomic bomb, but then, terrified by what he had done, tried to stop its use in Hiroshima. Chapters about Wells, Szilard, and other scientists and writers (including Vonnegut) circle around sections devoted to Flanagan’s childhood. The last chapter is the harrowing story of his almost-fatal kayak journey down the Franklin River in Tasmania when he was twenty-two. The trauma of that near-death experience–which is foreshadowed from the beginning–informs the entire book and connects to the story about his father’s experience in the slave labor camp. Time, memory, destruction, and literature are all woven together. I also now have a deeper appreciation of the way colonial history is embedded in the DNA of Australians and Tasmanians. Living “down under,” with its unique and savage history, ethnography, and geography, has had profound psychological ramifications.

Kirkus Reviews called Question 7 “a haunting, jagged, sparkling narrative puzzle in which the pieces deliberately refuse to fit.” That’s a great description of this ruminative, absorbing, and unsettling memoir. Flanagan leaves us with lots to think about.