Wednesday, March 27, 2024

'Black Narcissus' by Rumer Godden


Under the guidance of Sister Clodagh, the youngest Mother Superior in the history of their order, five European Sisters of the Servants of Mary leave their monastery in Darjeeling, India, and make their way to remote Mopu in the foothills of the Himalayan Mountains. There, in the opulent, abandoned palace where an Indian general housed his harem, the holy sisters hope to establish a school and a health clinic. Their aim is to help combat superstition, ignorance, and disease among the mistrusting natives in the village below, and to silence the doubts of their royal benefactor's agent, the hard-drinking and somewhat disreputable Mr. Dean.

MY THOUGHTS:

This is Rumer Godden's classic tale about an Anglo-Catholic order of nuns who intend to start a convent high in the Himalayan mountains, from which they'll teach and evangelize the locals and also run a medical dispensary. The building, once a harem, is bestowed on them by General Tada Rai, an elderly, wealthy philanthropist who's deeply embarrassed by his father's original use for it. 

But the big mystery is why had the Brotherhood of Saint Saviour's School, to whom he'd bequeathed it before, quit after just five months? Their only excuses were, 'No scope,' or, 'We weren't needed.' Regardless of their true reason for pulling the plug, the Sisters feel confident that they'll succeed where the Brothers failed. 

Sister Clodagh is put in charge as the youngest Sister Superior in their order. She's a bit of a know-it-all whose flashbacks suggest that she became a nun just to save face when a love affair went sour. Sister Briony, the key-bearer, is in charge of storage and the dispensary. Sister Philippa does the laundry and garden, and Sister Blanche is considered an asset because she's a chatty and sentimental 'people' person. To Sister Clodagh's secret dismay, the intense and uptight Sister Ruth has been sent along as a teacher, because Mother Superior deemed the responsibility would be good for her. They're later joined by the dour and inflexible Sister Adela who wants to do everything strictly by the books. 

Mr Dean is the General's somewhat bumptious and cynical English agent, who is called on often to help the Sisters out with structural problems or interpretation emergencies. It all goes against his grain, since he doubts they'll last long. But never does he dream he'll make such a huge impression on at least one of the nuns!  

My favourite character isn't either of the main pair. So not the abrasive Mr Dean, whose method of dealing with problems is to get himself totally plastered. And not Sister Clodagh, whose main talent seems to be rebuking underlings, although I do understand her growing sense of helplessness. To me, this book's ray of sunshine is Dilip Rai, the General's teenage nephew and heir. This original young man eagerly wants to Anglicize himself, but is already shaped by his formative culture. He's always disarmingly respectful to the Sisters, but has no idea that his sunny openness about unmentionable subjects presses their buttons. 

I love it that the novel's title comes from the scent of his cologne, Black Narcissus, which becomes their snide nickname for him. The innocent 'Young General' becomes the embodiment of all that's sensual and erotic, a perfect match for his environment, yet symbolizing all that makes the nuns feel awkward. He justifies his arousing scent by cheerfully observing, 'Don't you think it's rather common to smell of ourselves.' 

Comparing this novel to other books I've read by Godden, I think In This House of Brede introduces more situations in which characters must draw upon the tenets of their faith to make decisions. And perhaps Kingfishers Catch Fire has more plot points where two juxtaposing cultures clash heads. In Black Narcissus, fractures often (but not always) come more from within, although they are undoubtedly triggered by the strange new setting. 

Although I prefer In This House of Brede, I still rank this book highly because the questions it raises gives it plenty of depth. 

Can it really be labelled faithfulness, to recklessly barge into a different culture and begin trying to superimpose your ways without fathoming theirs? Should an evangelistic religious order be flexible enough to take into account the worldviews of the people they live among? If so, where do you draw the line so that you retain the parameters of your prescribed faith without morphing into something entirely different? If you blur the lines, are you still effective as a Christian witness? 

I don't think Rumer Godden really intends to answer any of these questions, but just set us pondering them. The way her plot plays itself out suggests that she has no easy answers anyway. I think books like this should be mandatory reading for every wannabe missionary, and perhaps every wannabe nun.

 (A bit off topic, if I'd ever considered such a career, or more correctly, experienced such a calling, their tight wimples might be a definite deterrent, since I feel hot and constricted with fabric around my neck and throat, and find having my ears covered impedes my concentration.)

Of course, if you like pure drama, spare a thought for Mr Dean, who has a crazy, love-sick nun throw herself at him. I'm guessing this might be a main reason why Hollywood latched onto the story for their 1947 film, which I don't think I'll bother tracking down at this stage.

🌟🌟🌟🌟 

Wednesday, March 20, 2024

'The Alice Network' by Kate Quinn



In an enthralling new historical novel from national bestselling author Kate Quinn, two women—a female spy recruited to the real-life Alice Network in France during World War I and an unconventional American socialite searching for her cousin in 1947—are brought together in a mesmerizing story of courage and redemption.

MY THOUGHTS:

This book was a birthday present from my sister-in-law, and it has two of my favourite literary conventions going for it. Firstly, it's one of those historical novels with dual, intersecting timelines, and secondly, it weaves three real-life heroes among the fictional main characters. They were such secret, unsung heroes, I hadn't heard of them until beginning this novel. The best spies received no acclaim or praise, since their work had to be so hush hush, and this carries over into the twenty-first century. Part of Kate Quinn's aim, I think, is to finally give credit where it's due.   

Now for the story.

For the more recent thread in 1947, we're with Charlie St Clair, a 19-year-old American girl being dragged by her mother to a Swiss abortion clinic where they can get rid of Charlie's 'little problem.' However, Charlie's ulterior motive is to track down her beloved cousin, Rose, who disappeared somewhere in France. Her first port of call is connecting with a frowsy, wasted woman named Evelyn Gardiner, who works on a bureau to track refugees, and signed a report on Rose. 

The earlier thread begins in 1915 and introduces the same Evelyn (Eve), as a beautiful, newly recruited spy aged 22. World War One was a time when female spies sometimes managed to sneak beneath the radar and Captain Cecil Aylmer Cameron (one of the true historical figures) takes advantage of this. He helps train Eve for the job and sets her in France with the code name Marguerite Le Francois. 

Eve becomes part of the Alice Network, a real life group of female spies based in Lille, France, who sneakily gather information about German troop movement and battle plans. Her undercover job is to wait on Nazi clientele at Le Lethe Restaurant, run by detestable enemy sympathiser, RenΔ“ Bordelon. 

Eve's close comrades are the jaunty and talented courier Lili (real life Louise de Bettignes) and the grim and glowering Violette (real life Leonie van Houtte). Since our impression of the wide-eyed, lovely Eve of 1915 differs so much from the grumpy, drunken recluse of 1947 with her painfully crippled hands, of course we are driven to find out what happened. 

Whew, it's a wild ride and an eye-opener alright, but parts of this novel don't sit well with me.

(There are some minor spoilers here, but I can't discuss this book without brushing over them. So proceed carefully.)

1) The whole thing becomes an intensely bitter, personal revenge mission. Haggard 54-year-old Eve decides she absolutely has to be the one to kill her old nemesis, RenΔ“, with her own busted hands. This blinkered drivenness, against the sound advice of the young couple she has come to love, may seem impactful plotwise, but it's also pretty darn creepy to me, suggesting she's become unhinged.

2) The story feels somewhat contrived to give Charlie as good a personal reason to hate RenΔ“ as Eve does. It's farfetched to believe that RenΔ“ could possibly have his dirty fingers stuck in two evil pies spanning both wars. But according to the story, this fictional baddie is pivotal in two crucial historical events about 30 years apart. Come on! 

3) I thoroughly hate that Eve would even for one moment consider herself a failure for supposedly blurting secrets to the enemy while she was unconscious. Coming after the sacrificial charade she played for so long, plus having her hands mangled and opium forced on her, it's appalling to imagine she wouldn't extend herself an ounce of grace or forgiveness. Not to mention Violette resenting her for being a 'Judas Bitch.' This harsh attitude sets our minds against Violette, whose real-life counterpart may not have been so unreasonable at all.  

4) All that sleeping with the enemy is just horrifying and icky. I know it's meant to signify just how much a great spy like Eve was willing to sacrifice, but it leaves a bad taste.

5) I find it just a bit slick and stagy at the end. And dare I say easily done. That Baudelaire bust just had to be in the right place at the right time. Whenever life does deliver such poetic justice, I doubt it's quite so pat.

All up, I think Kate Quinn crosses a line to melodrama and staginess, which is a shame about such a huge, ambitious writing project that had so much going for it. Still a well flowing, easy reading, often enjoyable read. 

🌟🌟🌟 

Wednesday, March 13, 2024

'The Shipping News' by E. Annie Proulx


At thirty-six, Quoyle, a third-rate newspaperman, is wrenched violently out of his workaday life when his two-timing wife meets her just deserts. He retreats with his two daughters to his ancestral home on the starkly beautiful Newfoundland coast, where a rich cast of local characters all play a part in Quoyle's struggle to reclaim his life. As three generations of his family cobble up new lives, Quoyle confronts his private demons--and the unpredictable forces of nature and society--and begins to see the possibility of love without pain or misery.

A vigorous, darkly comic, and at times magical portrait of the contemporary American family, The Shipping News shows why E. Annie Proulx is recognized as one of the most gifted and original writers in America today.

MY THOUGHTS:

 This was the Pulitzer prizewinner of 1994. I grabbed a copy from a free street library, planning to add it to the small pile I intend to read.

Its hero, Quoyle, is a shy and self-conscious social misfit. Taking up far more space with his gauche and ugly self than he'd like to, Quoyle has just been widowed. His villainous wife, Petal, is killed in a car smash as she cheats on him. Meanwhile, his parents have made a successful suicide pact. Poor Quoyle takes off with his two young daughters and his aunt to Newfoundland, the icy cold province of their ancestry.

Quoyle acquires a job as a reporter at The Gammy Bird, a rickety local rag staffed by a couple of rough-as-guts old men. We're told it's 'a tough little paper that looked life right in its shifty, bloodshot eyes.' At the age of 36, Quoyle will be the youngest on the team. The founding editor, Jack Buggit, assigns him the job of reporting car wrecks plus the shipping news. Quoyle will have to list arrivals and departures, and is later assigned to write feature articles about one vessel each week.

Poor Quoyle feels in way over his head, from his grief-triggering reporting role to the prospect of getting around in a boat. What's more, he discovers that he comes from a wild and disreputable bunch of ancestors whose 'filthy blood runs in his veins.' Yet in this daunting new setting, he somehow finds his stride and gains confidence. There might even be a bit of romance in store for bereft Quoyle. 

His aunt's words prove true when she says, 'Of course you can do the job. We face up to awful things because we can't go around them or forget them. What we have to get over, somehow we do. Even the worst things.' It's gratifying to see things turn out well for these longsuffering characters, although I can't imagine how Quoyle and his aunt muster so much money to spend on costly expenses like major house repairs, boats and trucks. After all, he works at a modest local newspaper with a piddling staff and she has set herself up as a yacht upholsterer, a niche business if ever there was one. Still, at least they pay lip service to having to watch their expenses.    

What strikes me most is the fine line between beauty and ugliness. On my back cover, the Sunday Telegraph calls this book, 'As stark and ruggedly beautiful as the storm-battered coast of Newfoundland itself.' Yet Proulx consistently uses repugnant imagery. How about, 'The bay crawled with whitecaps like maggots seething in a broad wound.' Or, 'The rock was littered with empty crab shells, still wet with rust-coloured body fluids.' It took me no time to realise that reflecting the harsh events of life with the most sordid minutiae of nature is simply Annie Proulx's style, for Quoyle, his aunt, his love interest and even his young daughters all have horrific backstories. Well, if others want to call it beautiful, I won't argue.

She does something similar with characters. I started to notice early on that nobody is ever depicted as nice looking, but written with every wart, wrinkle and blemish mercilessly highlighted, even those their owners would prefer to keep hidden. Quoyle himself is described with, 'features as bunched as kissed fingertips, eyes the colour of plastic, monstrous chin a freakish shelf jutting out from his lower face.' He still manages to win the love of a good young widow. Perhaps compared to everyone else we meet within these pages, Quoyle is actually a Casanova, or at least the handsomest guy to be found. 

Ranking this book is a challenge. I really like Quoyle. His mild surprise at finally getting something right after 36 years of being called a screw-up and a failure is heartwarming. I love the chapter in which he sticks up for himself when Tert Card, the second-in-charge under Buggit, attempts to change Quotle's article about the infamous oil rigs. And it's satisfying to see how his earnest and gentle parenting style breaks through the hang-ups his girls presumably inherited from their uncaring mother. Perhaps most of all, it's great when it strikes Quoyle that he can break the mould set by his no-good ancestors. For all that, I never really looked forward to picking this book up to continue the story but felt as if I was forcing myself to do it. And I was puzzled as to why I kept wanting it to finish, when there is such a lot to like. 

I've decided all the small talk, coarse joking and lengthy anecdotes tend to drag on a bit. It's the sort of realism we all get such a lot of in our actual lives. I want books to help me escape from that sort of tedium instead of shovelling on more. Maybe Proulx has succeeded in making these in-your-face Newfoundlanders so real that they come across as a bit boring. Or I'm willing to admit that perhaps I'm just one of those people who could never assimilate easily into the Killick-Claw community. 

🌟🌟🌟   

 

Wednesday, March 6, 2024

'Jonathan Livingston Seagull' by Richard Bach



This is a story for people who follow their hearts and make their own rules...people who get special pleasure out of doing something well, even if only for themselves...people who know there's more to this living than meets the eye: they’ll be right there with Jonathan, flying higher and faster than ever they dreamed.

MY THOUGHTS:

This was the bestselling fiction title for consecutive years 1972 and 1973, and its popularity spread by word of mouth through a world that was supposedly starving for its message. I was a toddler during its heyday, but I remember some of my unimpressed friends being forced to study it at High School in the mid eighties. I was in a different English class. Now, at last I've decided to put this runaway bestseller to the test.

It's all about how the intrepid Jonathan shuns the breakfast flock of birds to practice maneuvers way out of their league, such as eagle swoops. If there was a seagull Olympics, he would absolutely ace it. But instead he becomes a feathered pariah, since his peer group simply can't understand him. To them, eating is the most important part of life, not flight. 

 If I hadn't skipped reading this as a teenager, I might've easily been fired up by its message. It's hard to say in retrospect. At my current stage of life, I probably gravitate more toward the breakfast flock, whose lifestyle brings its own type of satisfaction if you manage to snag a chip or two. I guess as we age, a life of normalcy in which we feel no need to stand out from the crowd gains more appeal every day. The fact that this little fable sold like hotcakes in the early seventies suggests to me a horde of readers who each considered themselves to be radical, far-reaching Jonathans; lots of wannabe high-flyers who shunned the notion of simply scrambling after fish heads. In other words, few people admit to belonging in the breakfast flock, even though it contains millions of members. 

I believe we can still take the story's basic message on board, although some of us may choose to turn it upside down. I tend to think after decades of inundation with bestselling literature like this, it's now more radical to embrace a lifestyle of ordinariness without growing restless. Instead of speedy stunts in the air currents, we understand the peacefulness of bobbing in the shallows.  

This book really evokes the psychedelic seventies in which it took off. The story gets all spacey and strange, introducing notions of different incarnations, astral travel and higher spiritual planes until we finally reach some sort of enlightenment. And our friend Jonathan learns so much, he gets to skip several evolutions. It's all a bit way out and esoteric the further on we read. 

I can see how people call the book beautiful. The photos by Russell Munson are evocative and gorgeous. Jonathan belongs to a species of gull with golden eyes, yet most of the southern hemisphere seagulls I'm familiar with have either white or beady black orbs, so it increased my education. And the author Bach himself was a pilot, so he wrote his knowledge of aerodynamics into Jonathan's specky stunts, which is also pretty cool. 

But on the whole, I tend to think I'd be nowhere in this seagull centric world. I'm probably not aggressive and pushy enough to survive for long in the breakfast flock after all, yet I'm certainly not ambitious and driven enough to be a super flyer like Jonathan. Hi to any of my fellow lone, retiring gulls who may be reading this. 

Even though it surely helped define a decade's heartbeat, I can't quite bring myself to give this story three stars since I felt like putting it down several times. A bit too woo woo for me. 

🌟🌟½     

Wednesday, February 28, 2024

'Pollyanna's Door to Happiness' by Elizabeth Borton


MY THOUGHTS:  

It's a pleasure to get back to the Pollyanna books after a break of several months. 

This time Jimmy sets off for a year on an engineering job where Pollyanna and the kids can't follow. He's an eleventh hour team member joining a high-profile expedition to the South Pole. I must say, he breaks the news to his wife in a tactless, un-Jimmylike way, along these lines. 'Chance of a lifetime... make or break career opportunity... but if you say the word, Pollyanna, I'll turn it down right now.' What does he expect her to do?

Alas, Pollyanna is true to character. Remember in Pollyanna of the Orange Blossoms when she didn't tell Jimmy she was pregnant before he shipped off to the war? This time she hides info she's just discovered that their bank has gone broke. Jimmy assumes his family will live off his savings. It seems strange that he wouldn't check such a vital detail, even with just a day's notice, but oh well, whatever. 

The upshot is that Pollyanna joins the jobseekers in Boston. A lot of her desperation makes no sense in the context of the whole series. Why look for modest rooms to rent, instead of staying with Aunt Ruth and Uncle John, who are loaded with dough? Even if the older couple are away on one of his research trips, isn't that all the more reason why their close family members should move into that beautiful mansion? But John and Ruth don't even get a mention in this story. Again, oh well, whatever. 

Pollyanna ends up as the non-professional assistant of Dr Bennet, a psychiatrist. Her job will be regular chit chat with several selected patients to work her Glad Game magic on them. It sounds dodgy to readers in our era, for somebody with no training whatsoever in the mental health sector to be hired for such a responsibility, but this was the 1930s. Dr Bennet even sets her up in an apartment conducive to entertaining. In other words, Pollyanna will be getting paid for being herself.

At first I facepalmed, for Dr Bennet is doing the very thing Aunt Polly dreaded during Pollyanna's childhood; that is making Pollyanna feel self-conscious and put on the spot. Surely monetizing Pollyanna's gift will take away her beloved spontaneity, especially now that she has to write up formal reports on her new 'friends.' I expected it to destroy the whole spirit of the series, but somehow it works! 

Pollyanna has a humble, caring attitude, holds the doctor's trust seriously, and the job takes a great toll on her. The patients themselves are an interesting bunch. There's a novelist, Rada Masters, who has a complex that people are stealing from her. Deborah Dangerfield is a poor little rich teenager who keeps running away from home, and bereft Mrs Garden keeps shoplifting baby clothes without even realizing. Then there's poor Mr Bagley, a transport company director whose wife and son both die in separate accidents on his vehicles! No wonder Pollyanna gets a bit burned out. 

She has some wise insights about how the human mind works, after all her years of fascination with people.

Pollyanna reflects:

 'Curbed and exercised for our entertainment, the imagination gives us pure happiness. Running wild though, and substituting itself and its manufactured dreams for reality... it plunges us into problems, despair, mental troubles. It's a thing like fire; capable of infinite good and comfort if harnessed and guided and understood, and capable of injuring us in uncounted ways if we permit it to rule us.' 

And again:

'Sometimes we think strange things. They are like little sores on our minds, like measles or chicken pox. We get over them. They aren't natural things... don't last forever.'

Pollyanna's children are 13, 10 and 7, which is a few years younger than they were said to be in the previous book (Pollyanna's Castle in Mexico)! Elizabeth Borton messes up her own timeline, but the kids ring more true at these younger ages. Junior acquires a part time job, helping a newspaper office with his photography skills, and grapples with his own conscience crisis of whether or not it's ethical to throw in his lot with the snoopy paparazzi. Delicate Judy aspires to be a professional dancer. At this stage I wonder whether sturdy Ruth, the plain little plodder, will blossom out and eclipse her talented brother and sister in some remarkable way. Time will tell.

Here's a funny speculation. When Ruth assumes her daddy will be working close to Santa Claus, Junior and Judy exchange amused glances because she still believes in Santa Claus, yet neither seem to twig that she's chosen the wrong polar region. Since Elizabeth Borton has got so many other things wrong within her own stories, I can't help wondering if she realised it herself.   

Overall, I enjoyed this far more than Elizabeth Borton's two previous Glad Books, in which she went off the rails, turning the stories into sensationalist adverts for their lavish settings. There's been some much-needed course correction here, and she's finally writing more in the initial spirit of Eleanor H. Porter and Harriet Lummis Smith. This book takes place in a normal city suburb with several people walking around beneath black clouds of depression and despair which Pollyanna helps them clear. Hooray, that's all we really want from a Pollyanna book. It's formulaic maybe, yet not predictable, because there is so much scope.  

🌟🌟🌟½  

Next up will be Pollyanna's Golden Horseshoe (the last of Elizabeth Borton's offerings, whew!)

Wednesday, February 21, 2024

'The Secret Adversary' by Agatha Christie


Tommy Beresford and Prudence 'Tuppence' Cowley are young, in love… and flat broke. Just after Great War, there are few jobs available and the couple are desperately short of money. Restless for excitement, they decide to embark on a daring business scheme: Young Adventurers Ltd.—"willing to do anything, go anywhere."

MY THOUGHTS: 

We are introduced to young job-seekers Tommy and Tuppence, the only Christie characters destined to age through the decades in real time alongside their author. In this debut they are babes in their early twenties, broke and anxious for work. The year is 1920. Tuppence Cowley possesses elfin charm and oodles of self confidence and energy. Tommy Beresford is a 'pleasantly ugly' young ginger who prides himself on his common sense. Friends since childhood, they agree to start a new business venture named 'The Young Adventurers', in which they'll hire themselves out to anyone who needs them.

An eavesdropper soon plunges the pair deep into espionage and danger. These kids must think on their feet and rely on their wits more than they'd ever expected. (So one moral is don't start a business unless you're certain you can deliver on your hype.) 

Tommy and Tuppence find themselves embroiled in the search for Jane Finn, a young passenger aboard the sinking Lusitania in 1915, who was entrusted with some vital documents as she boarded a lifeboat. Neither Jane nor the precious, inflammatory papers have been seen for five years and foul play is suspected. 

Hot on the trail of the two Ts, who are hot on Jane's trail, is the titular secret adversary, a criminal mastermind who goes by the modest alias, 'Mr Brown.' This slick crook is renowned for popping up in unexpected places, posing as a nonentity. But although others know his methodology in retrospect, nobody has caught him at it. Can the formidable Mr Brown be foiled by a couple of green youths like Tuppence and Tommy?  

One intelligence agent tells them, 'My experts, working in stereotypical ways, have failed. You will bring imagination and an open mind to the task.' Perhaps the enjoyment of this novel hinges on the willingness of us readers to accept that reasoning for involving total noobs. 

If we are happy to swallow that premise, it's a fun read! The story sets us on edge, looking for Mr Brown in the unlikeliest places. Breakthroughs sometimes rely on the slightest details and surprises follow on the tail of each other. And perhaps because Christie isn't a deft hand at writing romance, the romantic snippets are sort of awkward and endearing.

The story takes place only five years after the disaster it draws from; the sinking of the passenger ship Lusitania by a German submarine during WW1. I guess Agatha Christie joins the ranks of opportunistic fiction authors who profit from still raw grief, for over 1000 passengers were drowned in this tragedy. But hey, Covid pandemic novels started hitting our shelves barely three years after 2020, so story fodder is still being left to the discretion of writers and publishers. 

Although this story is not totally flawess, relying heavily on coincidences a few too many times, I think it still deserves full marks for its wonderful twists and subtle clues, especially considering Christie was still quite young and this was just her second novel. She was excellent at anticipating not only my initial suspicions but even my subsequent guesses when I thought I was being smart. 

One thing that puzzles me is why characters such as Tommy initially find the name 'Jane Finn' so outlandish and remarkable. It strikes me as quite a fine and run-of-the-mill name. Would you pause in amazement if you heard some stranger refer to 'Jane Finn'? I wouldn't. If I was able to step into the pages, I'd ask him why he found it so odd.

As for Jane herself, wow, what a memorable character. Talk about taking a trust seriously on behalf of her country. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟  

Wednesday, February 14, 2024

'Romancing Mark Twain' novels by E. E. Burke


I'm surely not the only reader who finds Mark Twain's famous boy duo lingers in our imaginations long after we finish the books. He wrote two very different classics about two equally divergent boys. It has become easy for Twain fans to ask others if they'd choose 'Team Tom' or 'Team Huck.' The only thing these two characters have in common is that they greatly admire each other. 

Tom is a power personality while Huck is a peacemaker.

Tom is choleric, while Huck, I think, slides into phlegmatic.

Tom crams his head with fancy and folklore to arguably unhealthy levels, while Huck tends to be more practical and hands-on, which, I think gives him the survival edge the poor kid needs.  

Tom revels in being the centre of attention while Huck shuns the spotlight. 

Tom is a controller while Huck hates making waves. 

While searching for any fan fiction, I was delighted to stumble across these two books in my scrolling. E.E. Burke has written two bona fide romances about Tom and Huck as adults - the perfect indulgence to feature for Valentine's Day. Kudoes to her! I enjoyed them both immensely. And it's fitting that just as Mark Twain's own two books about this duo differ markedly from each other, so do Burke's. 

Check out my initial reviews of Tom and Huck

Now for what I dare to call these sexy spin-offs :) 

Tom Sawyer Returns

This novel embroils some of our favourite characters in Civil War espionage.

We readers are probably all sentimental enough to imagine Becky and Tom end up tying the knot, even though as tweenies they infuriate and offend each other quite as often as they are friends.

Becky Thatcher has grown into an attractive but deeply troubled young woman, whose father has been accused of treason; namely printing and distributing seditious propaganda. And her cousin, Jeff, although dearly loved, has placed his uncle, the judge, in some hot water. 

Tom Sawyer is the sudden arrival Becky never expected to see again. He's a spy who gets knocked unconscious as he heads straight for the Thatchers' house. Tom knows he was sent there for a reason, but partial amnesia has obscured whatever it was. With his attraction to Becky rekindled, he fears it won't be anything that will endear him to her. Especially since his cryptic orders were, 'Bring in the evidence you were sent to collect against Judge Thatcher.' Is it possible Tom could be involved in an evil mission and not even remember it? 

This story brings out a pleasing vulnerability in Tom which Twain never really taps into. Yet I can fully believe that with Tom's orphan background, it always existed. Another thing I love is how Tom's secret agent duties prevent him from boasting about his own heroism in the old way. Enforced modesty must almost kill this famous show-off. 

Becky fights her love for the unwelcome Tom, especially now that she's engaged to his old rival, none other than the smug and dapper Alfred Temple. Alongside the main couple, I love the reappearance of other familiar faces from The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Intervening years have turned Alfred into a man whose motivation Mark Twain surely never foresaw, yet I'm willing to bet he'd be a big fan of the direction in which Burke takes Alfred in this story. Then there's Amy Lawrence, a dour and reclusive young woman who now resents Becky for another reason than her sway over Tom's fickle affection. 

A couple of faces I missed were Joe Harper and Aunt Polly, although I can see there was no place for them in this tightly woven plot. (It's easy to assume Aunt Polly must have passed away.)

I think most of all, I love how E. E. Burke has developed the character of young Sid. Far more than Tom's insipid, goody-goody, tell-tale little brother, he is now the youngest ever appointed Provost Marshall, or head of local police. Sid is shown to have an intriguing inner life of his own. It's a hard pill for Tom to swallow to accede to Sid, whether or not he can figure out if he's even trustworthy. 

There is plenty of action which proves lethal for some and a close shave for others. Some sneaky disguises are also in order, some on the spur of the moment. A very clever book which I thoroughly enjoyed.

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Taming Huck Finn

A romance featuring a disgruntled and heart-torn Huckleberry Finn that takes place largely on an old paddle steamer. Yes please! 

The story begins at Atchison, Kansas. Huck Finn, having recuperated from a serious gunshot wound, is almost ready to seek work as a steamboat pilot for which he's been trained. There, he receives a bombshell in the form of a lawyer accompanied by a friendly little boy. Huck's one-time guardian, Widow Douglas, has passed away and left custody of her only grandson to him. While he's still reeling from this news, an intense and bitter young woman shows up. Hallie MacBride wants to claim her nephew, who is her only remaining family member. 

This spurs one of Huck's famous conscience issues. Although he considers himself an unfit guardian for a child, bad memories of his personal experience with Miss Watson drive him to look out for young Tad. He wouldn't forgive himself for leaving an impressionable and lively young lad with another sour spinster - which is his initial impression of Hallie. Huck has no idea that a deeply hurtful experience has branded its mark on her soul. 

For her part, Hallie never anticipates how disarming and irresistible she'll find her infuriating adversary.

And for the record, young Tad badly wants to stay with Huck. He seems by far the cooler option for an eight-year-old. 

There's a lot of fascinating detail about the major responsibilities of a riverboat pilot, including subtle peril spotting in the water and interpretation of other signs, such as wind direction. These days are long before motor cars, so steamboat pilots were really the only drivers as we know them. I didn't miss the nice little Easter egg that Huck started learning his skill under an old pilot named Samuel Clemens. 

The chemistry between Hallie and Huck is sizzling hot, and a formidable enemy posing as a friend raises the danger stakes sky high. My only misgiving at the very outset was scepticism that Widow Douglas would assign guardianship of her precious grandson to Huck without ever telling him beforehand. But before long the convincing storyline won me over. I'm willing to believe that desperation and fond nostalgia made her do it. 

And what a swoon-worthy ending, as our heroine Hallie might say herself.   

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Oh, by the way, do you consider yourself to belong in Team Tom or Team Huck?