I suppose it is timely that I read this book over the weekend and today the NYT posted its own review of Case Histories. Janet Maslin and I agree on several points. “There’s nothing fancy about the way Kate Atkinson’s new novel unfolds. Ms. Atkinson simply starts her story, grabs hold of the reader and doesn’t let go.” I knew the basic plot before I even began the book. There are 3 unsolved cases: a 3 year old girl goes missing one hot summer night in 1970, an obese widower sets in motion the chain of events that leads to the death of his favorite daughter in 1994, and an 18 year old new mother finds the onus of mother-and wife-hood too much to bear in 1979. The main character of the novel that ties all these together is Jackson Brodie, private investigator. You know that he will investigate these cases and that is the plot of the book.

So what makes this book so special? It is Atkinson’s writing that helps make this book more than just a standard detective story. She has a keen eye for details and that helps when you are twining together 4 stories. The plots twist and turn in unexpected ways. But it is also her exploration of the characters that makes this a lovely book. Jackson Brodie, recently divorced, has moved into a non-descript cottage.

“When he moved out of the house he had shared with his wife and daughter, Jackson went round every room in the house to check that nothing had been left behind, apart from their lives, of course. When he walked inot the bathroom he realised that he could still smell Josie’s perfume—L’Air du Temps—a scent she had worn long before he had ever met her. Now she wore the Joy by Patou that David Lastingham bought her, a scent so old-fashioned that it made her seem like a different woman, which she was, of course……When he moved into the rented house he bought a bottle of L’Air du Temps and sprayed the tiny bathroom with it, but it wasn’t the same.”

Brodie emerges from this book as almost too gentle of a soul to be doing the work he is doing—but that is what makes him good at it. You don’t even discover until towards the end of the book why he works as an investigator and then his work becomes all the more meaningful.

There is no great evil in this book, but neither are the cases easily solved. The answer is teased out and there are surprised in there, even though you think you might have it figured out. Once you pick up this book, you can’t seem to put it down until you get to the end.

P.S. Go here for more reviews.

Manohla Dargis managed to articulate today precisely why I dislike the Bridget Jones books so much in her review of the sequel (which sounds awful). Now, Bridget Jones the movie I think was much better than the book. This is one of the few cases I can think of where the movie was better than the original book. But the book was not that good to begin with in my opinon. The movie managed to flesh the characters (no pun intended) out in a way that Helen Fielding was ubable. Bridget Jones seemed shallow and petty in the book, whereas in the movie, she seemed like a real person, albeit a really goofy one.

“I understand why otherwise reasonable, sensible women eagerly took to Helen Fielding’s original book, even if I couldn’t stand all the phony self-loathing and the irritating cutesy constructions like “singleton.” It’s one thing when Martin Amis renames a Fiat a Fiasco; he can write. And because Ms. Fielding can’t write a true, human-motivated character, I never understood why Hugh Grant’s and Colin Firth’s characters would be remotely interested in Bridget. My assumption was always that she must work some seriously strong dark magic in the bedroom (the sequel proves me right), though I have to admit the woman did look cute in that Playboy Bunny outfit in the first movie, even if I gasped aloud at a glimpse of cellulite. Ms. Zellweger’s dedication to her craft at that moment was totally awesome.”

The stupid constructions irritated me too. Who the fuck talks like that? Singletons? And sure some people worry about lack of men in their lives, but most of the people I know don’t obsess about it to this level. I am disappointed that the sequel sucks, but not too surprised.

“Americans were forever proclaiming their freedom and individuality, meanwhile settling for whatever was in fashion.”
——Christopher Benfey The Great Wave

Sarah Erdman wrote a wonderful book about her 2 years in the Peace Corps. Nambonkaha, in the northern part of Côte d”Ivoire, is a small village on the cusp between the old world and the new one; in the old world, sorcerers still practice magic and the women grind their corn daily with pestles. In the new world, they face some of the toughest obstacles—the coming of electricity, hunger, AIDS, and a growing unrest in the political climate. Erdman deftly weaves the tales of her days spent in this wonderful place. Instead of sounding like a condescending European, like many other memoirs of whites in Africa, she firmly melded herself into the village life. In the beginning, she had no idea how to help the people. As a health aide, she worked with the village nurse and learns about their customs. Eventually she sees a way she can help the village take control with their health care. Most of all, this is a beautiful story of a woman noticing all the details of life foreign to her. When her tenure in Nambonkaha was up, I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted her to remain in the village to continue writing about its inhabitants. With an eye for details, Erdman’s prose softly makes points about sharp subjects.