(But, then, the right-wing outrage up here, over the use of the term ‘genocide’ in the discussions related to the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women report released in June, suggests nothing much has changed.)
You recommended the Grann volume later in 2017, so I reached back further for another title you recommended much earlier in our correspondence to read next: David Guterson’s Snow Falling on Cedars.
That was one of those on-everybody’s-lips titles that I probably did intend to read, but, then, it became so ubiquitous (a movie, even!) that I naturally drifted away. I remember we chatted about one of his later books (The Other, maybe? which sounds like another relevant read for our times) but I don’t think either of us read any others of his.
What I wouldn’t do right now for some “furious, wind-shipped flakes” against the windows though or the “gently implacability” of it falling in the distance. The other night it was twenty-six degrees overnight, whereas that would make a perfectly respectable daytime temperature, wouldn’t it. (What a relief that climate change isn’t for reals. *coughs*)
Cedars starts with atmosphere and description, but you know I have a soft spot for courtroom stories, so I’m not worried about the slow build. And I have just begun that Ann Cleeves series you suggested, the one they’ve made into Vera, so I do have a more gripping story at hand, for those reading spells which demand more action. Although The Crow Trap is all about setting and feel at this point too (except for that matter of the suicide-that’s-not-as-straightforward-as-it-seems). It’s mostly ground-cover plants and birds just now!
When I write next, I’ll have gotten further with the latest Barbara Kingsolver too. You were intending to get to that one, but I don’t know if you got there before everything took such a bloody awful turn for you. So far, it seems like a cross between the astute observations of The Bean Trees and the setting-soaked Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. You would have liked it.
My friend, Barbara – librarian and booklover – died shortly after Christmas. We met via a listserv dedicated to Canadian literature, a serious venture that inspired us to take our enthusiasm offline, where we exchanged proper letters – mostly about books and cats – for about 19 years. In my mind, our bookish conversation is ongoing. (Letter One of Four is here.)