Dilettante's Diary

Spring Reading 2015

Who Do I Think I Am?
Index: Movies
Index: Writing
Index: Theatre
Index: Music
Index: Exhibitions
Artists' Blogs
Index: TV, Radio and Misc
NOVEMBER 3, 2023
Aug 2, 2023
July 4, 2023
Apr 21, 2023
Feb 10, 2023
Jan 24, 2023
Jan 11, 2023
Dec 2, 2022
July 26, 2022
July 4, 2022
June 2, 2022
March 25, 2022
March 11, 2022
Feb 14, 2022
Nov 19, 2021
Oct 2021
Sept 16, 2021
July 21, 2021
July 15, 2021
June 11, 2021
Apr 23, 2021
March 12, 2021
Feb 13, 2021
Jan 5, 2021
December 2020
Autumn Mysteries 2020
Aug 12/20
May 25/20
Apr 30/20
March 12/20
Dec 6/19
Jan 29/20
Nov 10/19
Oct 24/19
Sept 30/19
Aug 2/19
June 22/19
May 26/19
Apr 22/19
Feb 23/19
Jan 15/19
Dec 20/18
Dec 3/18
Oct 3/18
Sept 9/18
Aug 9/18
July 19/18
June 2/18
May 14/18
Apr 23/18
Feb 22/18
Dec 13/17
Nov 22/17
Nov 3/17
Oct 5/17
Sept 21/17
Aug 3/17
June 16/17
Mar 21/17
Feb 26/17
Feb 9/17
Jan 30/17
Dec 19/16
Dec 11/16
Nov 20/16
Sept 17/2016
Aug 21/16
July 17/16
June 29/16
June 2/16
Apr 23/16
Feb 28/16
Feb 1/16
Jan 27/16
Winter Reading 2016
Dec 15/15
Nov 19/15
Fall Reading 2015
Oct 29/15
Sept 16/15
Sept 4/15
July 29, 2015
July 1, 2015
June 7/15
Summer Reading 2015
May 19/15
Apr 30/15
Apr 19/15
Spring Reading 2015
March 23/15
March 11/15
Winter Reading 2015
Feb 20/15
Feb 8/15
Jan 29/15
Jan 20/15
Highs 'N Lows of 2014
Dec 19/14
Dec 2/14
Nov 10/14
Oct 29/14
Fall Reading 2014
Sept 17/14
Summer Reading 2014
Aug 22/14
Aug 8/14
July 11/14
June 16/14
May 28/14
Apr 30/14
Apr 16/14
Apr 2/14
March 21, 2014
March 13/14
Feb 11/14
Sept 23/13
Favourite Works: 2004-2013
Two Novels by BARBARA PYM
Sabbath's Theater by PHILIP ROTH
July 18/13
Summer Reading 2013
June 19/13
May 30/13
Spring Reading 2013
May 10/13
Apr 18/13
Mar 29/13
March 14, 2013
The Artist Project 2013
Feb 25/13
Winter Reading 2013
Feb 7/13
Jan 22/13
Jan 12/13
A Toast to 2012
Dec 19/12
Dec 16/12
Dec 4/12
Fall Reading 2012
Nov 17/12
Nov 6/12
Art Toronto 2012
Oct 23/12
Oct 4/12
Sept 28/12
Summer Reading 2012
Aug 26/12
Aug 8/12
Toronto Outdoor Art Exhibition 2012
July 14/12
June 28/12
May 27/12
May 20/12
May 4/12
La Traviata: Met's Live HD Version
Apr 21/12
Apr 6/12
Mar 22/12
Mar 9/12
The Artist Project 2012
Academy Awards Show 2012
Feb 26/12
Feb 11/12
Jan 23/12
Jan 15/12
Jan 7/12
Dec 20/11
Dec 12/11
Nov 27/11
Nov 18/11
Nov 7/11
Art Toronto 2011
Oct 22/11
Oct 17/11
Sept 30, 2011
Summer Reading 2011
Aug 11/11
July 28, 2011
July 19/11
TOAE 2011
June 25/11
June 20/11
June 2/11
May 14/11
Apr 29/11
Toronto Art Expo 2011
Apr 11/11
March 24/11
The Artist Project 2011
March 11/11
Feb 23/11
Feb 7/11
Jan 21/11
Jan 17/11
Dec 21/10
Dec 6/10
Nov 11/10
Fall Reading 2010
Oct 22/10
Summer Reading 2010
Aug 9/10
Aug 2/10
TOAE 2010
July 16/10
The Shack
June 27/10
June 3/10
May 5/10
April 17/10
Mar 28/10
Mar 17/10
The Artist Project 2010
Toronto Art Expo 2010
Feb 22/10
Feb 3/10
Notables of '09
Jan 11/10
Dec 31/09
Dec 17/09
How Fiction Works
Nov 24/09
Sex for Saints
Nov 11/09
Oct 22/09
Oct 6/09
Sept 18/09
Aug 23/09
July 31/09
July 17/09
Toronto Outdoor Art Exhibition 2009
Toronto Fringe 2009
Zen Wrapped In Karma Dipped In Chocolate
June 28/09
June 6/09
Myriad Mysteries 2009
May 10/09
CBC Radio -- "The New Two"
April 14/09
March 24/09
Toronto Art Expo '09
March 1/09
The Jesus Sayings
Feb 8/09
Jan 26/09
Jan 10/09
Stand-outs of 2008
Dec 24/08
Dec 4/08
Nov 16/08
Oct 27/08
Oct 16/08
Sept 26/08
Sept 5/08
July 21/08
Toronto Outdoor Art Exhibition 08
July 5/08
June 23/08
June 4/08
May 18/08
May 4/08
April 16/08
March 26/08
Head to Head
Feb 26/08
Feb 13/08
Jan 30/08
Jan 17/08
Notables of 2007
Dec 30/07
Dec 8/07
Nov 22/07
Oct 25/07
Oct 4/07
Sept 18/07
Aug 29/07
Aug 8/07
Summer Mysteries '07
July 20/07
June 28/07
June 8/07
May 21/07
May 2/07
April 14/07
March 23/07
Toronto Art Expo 2007
March 8/07
Feb 16/07
Feb 2/07
Jan 24/07
Notables of 2006
Dec 27/06
December 11/06
November 28/06
Nov 8/06
October 14/06
Sept 22/06
Ring Psycho (Wagner on CBC Radio)
Sept 6/06
August 12/06
July 18/06
June 27/06
June 9/06
May 23/06
Me In Manhattan
May 2/06
April 12/06
March 17/06
March 9/06
Feb 16/06
Feb 1/06
Jan 11/06
Dec 31/05
Dec 12/05
Nov 25/05
Nov 4/05
Oct 24/05
Sept 7/05
Sept 16/05
Sept 1/05
Aug 10/05
July 21/05
Me and the Jays
July 10/05
June 15/05
May 18/05
April 27/05
April 18/05
April 8/05
March 21/05
Feb 28/05
Feb 21/05
Feb 4/05
Jan 28/05
Jan 19/05
Jan 5/05
About Me
Dec 20/04
Dec 5/04
OTHER STUFF: Art Exhibitions, Concerts, etc.

Reviewed here

  • Doors Open
  • Ladies' Man
  • The Girl Next Door

Lots more to come!

Doors Open (Mystery/Crime) by Ian Rankin, 2008

Although Ian Rankin is one of the most highly rated mystery writers of our time – thanks to his very successful series of novels featuring Inspector Rebus – I haven’t read much of him. The one Rebus book that I do remember reading struck me as clever and well-constructed but a little too complicated in the way it delved into nefarious events in the past as explanations of present wrong-doing. So maybe this non-Rebus book would please me more....?

It’s set in contemporary Edinburgh. Three pals – an art professor, a bored millionaire and a banker – decide to steal some important paintings from the storehouse of the National Gallery. By way of motivation, there’s the fact that they’d each like to own some works that they could never buy. But the more decisive thrust comes from the professor, who likes to think that they’re "liberating" these works which would otherwise be cooped up in darkness forever. Although the social positions of these guys would seem to give their project the status of "white collar crime," they do have to solicit the participation of some members of the underworld of Edinburgh.

I found the first part of the book, the setting up and plotting of the crime, rather laboured and slow. It seemed that the writer was having trouble getting the wheels in motion. It particularly bothered me that the somewhat unusual motivation for the theft never seemed quite convincing or plausible. But the book had opened with a flash-forward to a very violent scene. You knew, then, that things were going to go badly. My curiosity about how that would come down was enough to make me hang in. Once the thieves’ plan is activated, Mr. Rankin has a knack for making things more and more complicated, for throwing in twists and surprises that increase the tension and make the story more compelling – with the result that the book turns out to be a very good read.


Ladies’ Man (Novel) by Richard Price, 1978

I’d never heard of Richard Price until The New Yorker recently published a rave write-up about his work. Turns out he’s a very successful author of several novels and screenplays; he has also written for the acclaimed TV series, The Wire. Most of his books, it appears, have to do with crime and the underside of life in the New York area. This early one, published nearly forty years ago, isn’t about crime, as such, but it certainly does dwell in the seedier environs of New York, such as they were in the 1970s.

Our hero and first-person narrator is Kenny Becker, a thirty-something guy who is living with a woman he calls La Donna. She wants to be a club singer but Kenny, with his sardonic humour, lets us know that she sucks when it comes to performing. Still, he’s trying as well as he can to support her in her ambition. Kenny has some far-fetched hopes of becoming an English teacher some day; meanwhile he’s schlepping through life as a door-to-door salesman. It would be giving away too much to say anything more about what happens, other than that his life is starting to fall apart around him.

At first, I was wary of some aspects of the book that made it seem rather dated. For instance, that gig of Kenny’s as a door-to-door salesman. He peddles various kinds of household gadgets that housewives would presumably find enticing. Was it possible than anybody was making a living doing that in the 1970s? Maybe in Manhattan. I dunno. Then there’s Kenny’s attitude to his girlfriend. It was looking like this was going to be another instance of the old narrative clich, wherein you have this hunky, intelligent guy who’s stuck with this flaky female whom he can’t ditch because she stirs up such irresistible sexual passion in him. However, it would be fair to say, to Mr. Price’s credit as a writer, that the situation becomes more complex in this case and that the female figure does turn out to be a strong individual in her own right, not just a figment of a male writer’s imagination.

Another feature of the book that might be considered pass – offensively so – would be Kenny’s attitude to gay men. He scoffs at them and frequently refers to them as "faggots." Again, however, without wanting to give away too much, it has to be said that Kenny’s views on gay culture come in for a thorough revision. Granted, some of Kenny’s exploration reads a bit like a touristic visit to some of the most titillating hot spots of the day. His take on all that looks a bit sensationalist now; I don’t think any of us need to be informed about some of the wilder things going on out there. But it’s not hard to see how this stuff would be quite the eye-opener for lots of readers back in the 1970s.

Which is not to say that it doesn’t still have a legitimate artistic purpose in Mr. Price’s novel. Kenny’s encounter with that scene has much to do with his development as a character. And Mr. Price keeps us reading eagerly to find out just where the next turn is going to take Kenny. This, my first encounter with Mr. Price, shows him to be a superb narrator.


The Girl Next Door (Mystery/Crime) by Ruth Rendell, 2014

Rather than the typical whodunnit, this book is more like the novels that Ruth Rendell writes under the pseudonym "Barbara Vine." In those books, we often know at the outset what the crime is or who committed it; the intrigue has to do with how the crime is eventually discovered, or how the perpetrator is uncovered, or consequences further down the road.

Here, we open with a double murder around the time of the Second World War. A man kills his wife and her lover. On a whim, the murderer cuts a hand off each of his victims’ bodies, then places the two hands in a tin biscuit box and stashes it in an underground tunnel (which turns out to be part of an abandoned building project). Subsequently, he marries into money, becomes a widower, and lives in a posh retirement home. Seventy years after his dastardly deed, the severed hands are discovered in the tunnel. DNA is used to try to identify the deceased. Some adults who had played in the tunnel as kids are brought together to see if they can come up with any helpful clues about who might have deposited the hands there.

Up to the halfway point in this book, I was hoping to be able to report the good news that Ruth Rendell, at the age of eighty-something, can still turn out a very good mystery. As a crime story, with its multiple facets, this one is fascinating. However, it gradually becomes less and less of a mystery. After we’ve met the detective who is investigating the puzzle about the hands, there’s no mention of him for more than a hundred pages. Instead, we focus on developments in the lives of the people who had been playmates in the tunnel many years ago. They meet, they chat and an old passion is re-kindled; some of them get sick, some of them die, they go their separate ways, they move on. In the way that these people are so available to each other for frequent meetings, the book reminds me very much of the oeuvre of Iris Murdoch. In her books, you sometimes wonder if people have anything to do – any jobs, any duties or responsibilities – other than kibitzing with each other. But their exchanges and the complications in their relationships make the books very worthwhile.

The same cannot be said for these people. Their affairs are never more than mildly interesting, their pronouncements seldom thought-provoking. It is rather engaging, mind you, to follow the unconventional life of the son of the murderer. And Ms. Rendell has some things to say about contemporary attitudes to marriage and gender roles in her account of the old love affair that's re-ignited. But some members of the group – two brothers and their wives, for instance – never come into focus as people you can care about.

Too often, one or another of the members of the group marvels at the fact that the discovery of the two severed hands brought all these people together after so many years. Unfortunately, their reunion doesn’t prove to be so marellous for the reader. Admittedly, the thread of the mystery about the hands still runs through the story. We do wonder how the nasty old codger who did the deed will be caught. And there are a few neatly contrived developments leading to his being found. Since the book is much less about that story, however, than about the not-very-gripping lives of the former playmates, I would have to say that it’s not a great success.

You can respond to patrick@dilettantesdiary.com