Tag Archives: RB Media

Murder in an English Garden, by Carlene O’Connor***-****

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Murder in an Irish Garden is the eleventh in the Irish Village mystery series by Carlene O’Connor, but I haven’t read any of the earlier books. My thanks go to Kensington Books, RB Media, and NetGalley for the review copies; this book is for sale now.

I was drawn to this book because it features three of my interests: mysteries, Ireland, and gardening. On the downside, it’s definitely a cozy mystery, and I am generally not a fan of cozies, except for the ones that have a bit of an edge, the sort that make true cozy readers complain. I mention the latter because for me, this felt too sedate; on the other hand, true cozy fans may find it is just about right for them.

The premise is that the annual gardening contest, which features a significant cash prize and a great deal of prestige, is about to take place. The village’s most serious gardeners have spent considerable time, effort, and money preparing their gardens for the event, but then one of the displays turns out to have a corpse inside it; the body is that of an entrant who isn’t from the village, an outsider who’s using the competition as a stepping stone to get her admitted to another contest that has a massive cash prize. Cassidy Ryan, the outsider, has been murdered. Village cops Siobhan and Macdara, who are a married couple, are tasked with solving the crime.

As the story opens, we find the two cops—called garda—in a marital dispute, and our protagonist, Siobhan, has an internal monologue that switches back and forth between murder and her pique at Macdara. I felt the latter was overdone, but I also wonder if I had read some of the earlier books, whether I would be more invested in their romance. Of course, they eventually resolve their dispute, and they crack the case.

I was lucky enough to have access to both the digital and audio versions. This proved to be even more helpful than usual, as I was able to hear the story through the delightful Irish brogue of reader Caroline Lennon, and at the same time, I learned the pronunciation of a few common Irish names that I’d only seen in print until now. Between these things and the fact that the narrative is linear and lends itself to the audio format so beautifully, I recommend that interested readers select either the audio alone, or a combination of both. I read multiple books at a time, and because it is easily followed, it’s the story I have chosen to hear while driving.

The characters felt poorly developed to me, with external qualities—this gardener loves goats, that gardener is formal and rather picky—serving as the only development that I found. I would have liked to see some dynamics, and some agreeable qualities for the deceased included. There was almost nothing about gardening, which would have been fine, had there been character development, but alas.  For this reason, I rate the digital version 3 stars, but for the reasons mentioned earlier, the audio version is elevated to 4 stars.

Left for Dead, by Eric Jay Dolan***-****

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When I saw this book, I was eager to read it. Shipwreck, treachery, and survival? It doesn’t get a lot more exciting than that. I signed myself up for both the digital and audio galleys, and settled in to immerse myself in history.

My thanks go to NetGalley, RB Media, and W.W. Norton and Company for the galleys. This book is available for purchase now.

The book is well paced and well researched, with plenty of quotes from primary sources. The events described take place during the War of 1812, and involves British and American ships and crew members, none of them particularly lovable, but definitely resilient and ingenious at surviving in extremely dangerous conditions. The men on the American ship have been at sea since before war was declared, and are astonished to find themselves prisoners of war when they are rescued by the British at one point. There are a great many twists and turns, and this is one of those stories that would be considered completely unrealistic if written as fiction. What an experience these sailors endured!

Nevertheless, I am not the best audience for this story after all. I came into it thinking of history and survival, but when I applied for the galleys, I didn’t appreciate the word “sealer” in the ship’s description. Sealer, as in clubbing the seals to death. Hundreds! So easy! Filling the hold of the ship and…I will spare you the rest, since I was unable to spare myself. I sternly reminded myself that this was a different time period with different societal expectations. No animal had been declared endangered, and there had been no technologies that would render the need to wear animal skins for warmth obsolete. People need to stay warm and dry; seal skins will do that for them. I vowed to let it slide past and focus on the rest of the book; but it never slid past, because it was mentioned again, and again, and again, not with a tremendous amount of detail, yet far more than I needed or wanted to hear.

Yes, a baby is born on the ship, but that babe gets about three sentences. Yes, there’s a dog on board, and he saves the crew members many times over, but his heroics don’t show up until the last portion of the tale, and although other reviewers have said that the book is worth reading for this alone, I must respectfully disagree.

Clearly there are a number of people that appreciate and enjoy this book, and I agree that it’s important to document historical events, but I finished reading this thing weeks ago, and I still get a sour gut remembering. If you still want to read it, then do so, but it’s important to go in with your eyes wide open.

The Meth Lunches, by Kim Foster****

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Kim Foster and her husband, David, create a food pantry in front of their house—and later, inside it—during the pandemic. It begins with the employment of one hungry handyman who’s also an addict, and from there, it mushrooms. This is her memoir of that time, and also a philosophical treatise on poverty and hunger in the United States.

My thanks go to Net Galley, RB Media, and St. Martin’s Press for the review copies. This book is for sale now.

When Foster’s family moves from New York to Las Vegas, one of the first thing she notices is the meth. It’s everywhere. Perhaps it is the milder weather; addicts in New York have to find a spot out of the weather during much of the year, but Vegas is in the desert, mild enough for the unhoused to sleep just about anywhere, warm enough that addicts don’t have to hide themselves away to get high.

The pandemic hits Vegas hard. So many people make their living from some aspect of the entertainment business, and for a while, it is a dead industry. And so, after hiring a man with an obvious dependency to do work on their property—work that he never completes—and hearing his story, the Fosters decide to convert the little free library in front of their home to a little free pantry. And from there, it mushrooms.

The pantry begins small, but Foster is a chef, and she can’t stand the notion of just putting out pre-packaged crap when she can cook food with fresh ingredients that will make others feel better. And as the book takes off, I momentarily regret taking this galley, because I generally hate stories that drop recipes into the middle of the plot. If I want cooking information, I’d rather go to a cookbook, or to a recipe website. And it was right there in the title, after all: The Meth Lunches. It’s pretty obvious from the get go that lunch is going to be juxtaposed with social issues.

But as the story continues, I don’t hate it after all. For one thing, this whole book is nonfiction. There’s no plot that is sidelined by a recipe. The whole point is that that Foster considers food, and the act of feeding others, to be a sort of therapy. She makes the point well.

Eventually, the scale of the operation becomes mind boggling. Multiple freezers to hold meat; trucks that deliver food. The pantry begins as an out-of-pocket gift from the Fosters to the down and out of Las Vegas, occasionally supplemented via Venmo from friends, when they are able to help. Inevitably, the pantry finds its way into the local media, and networks form with other food banks and nonprofits.

In between all of this, Foster develops relationships with some of the people that come by. She and her husband are foster parents—ironic, given their name, right? And we hear not only about what the children they house and love have experienced, but also about the children’s biological families. Because although it’s officially discouraged, Kim strongly feels that the children heal best if their biological parents are in their lives in whatever limited way is possible. So before we know it, she is deeply involved with some horribly dysfunctional adults as well. And it is the stories she tells about interacting with them and the children, two of whom she and David eventually adopt, that make this story so riveting.

At the outset, she intends for the pantry to be a resource for local families that have homes and kitchens, but whose finances have taken a huge hit due to the pandemic. The very poor already have resources, she reasons. But of course, the homeless find her, and she doesn’t turn them away.

And here is the rub, the only aspect of this book that I dislike. She tells us that one unhoused person in four is mentally ill, and she believes that this official figure is low, at least in Las Vegas. And then she talks about those with addiction issues.

But what she never gets around to discussing at all—unless she does it so briefly that I miss it—is the unhoused people that are not chemically dependent on anything, whose mental health is stable, but who don’t have a permanent residence because they straight-up ran out of money. To hear her tell it, you’d think they don’t exist, and you know that’s not so. So many American families live from paycheck to paycheck, even when the economy is said to be booming. And I feel that she has left these people without faces or voices. And that, in turn, perpetuates a stereotype, the one that suggests that everyone that is homeless is there because they’re either crazy or junkies or both. I use the offensive terms intentionally, because that’s how the stereotype works. 

And the stereotype in turn begets a lie, the insinuation that nobody has to be unhoused. Don’t use drugs. Get mental health care. Get over yourself. And whereas I can see that Foster doesn’t intend to promote such thinking, and in fact takes a hard line over poverty existing at all in such a wealthy nation, when she doesn’t give space to the many, many individuals and families that are out there because the wage earner was laid off, or because they were just squeaking by but then the rent increased, it does distort her overall picture. I don’t come away from this book thinking that most of the homeless are not using meth or any other dangerous, life-altering street drugs, even though it’s true.

Nevertheless, this is a poignant, stirring tale that won’t be told by anyone else, because it can’t be, and bearing in mind the caveats above, I recommend it to you, both as audio and print.