I got this book in a book swap at a book club meeting. I may not have otherwise discovered it so I’m glad the luck of the draw was with me that night.
A domestic suspense novel set partially in Italy and partially in Derby, UK. Chapters alternate between three women. Leah, Joanna, and Amy each tell their stories in turn and we root for each one.
The death of a young woman nine months before the story starts is integral to the book. A family torn apart by death, suspicion of a bartender who left Italy after the death and an aunt who wants answers mix together in Italy. A woman nursing a broken heart and beginning to recover from it in Derby is another mystery as the book opens. What she has to do with the family in Italy is one of the conundrums the reader is faced with in reading the tale. Figuring out her connection to a place far away where she’s never been is part of the initial fun of the read.
I liked the way the author alternated the story with present day Leah and Johanna and wove what they were going through separately eventually to the denouement. The flashbacks with Amy added a poignant element to the tale.
Both Joanna and Leah get into dangerous situations in the book, some due to their own making which ramped up the anxiety on their behalf. Some were due to their natural curiosity and helpful natures. Each of them acted in a way to endanger themselves on occasion. This reader enjoyed the anxiety for their safety in those scenes. The author did an excellent job crafting the suspenseful parts of the tale. The way she tied the diverse elements together was very satisfying.
I read this one in part of an evening and part of a morning. It was a quick read, yet packed with fully drawn characters, suspense and convincing action.
This is a fictionalized story based on the very real kindertransport trains and ferries taking Jewish children out of Nazi Europe. The real woman who convinced Eichmann to allow the first 600 children to be transported to London, when England agreed to provide visas for them, was named Geertruida Wijsmuller. She saved a large number of Jewish children’s lives, first by taking two and three, and sometimes as many as ten, out of Germany and into the Netherlands. She started doing this in the mid-1930s. The situation became more urgent after Hitler invaded Austria. Many countries closed their borders and refused to allow Jewish people entry visas. Tante Truus, as she had the children call her, worked with some highly placed people in England to pressure their parliament to allow children to be evacuated and held in two summer camps until foster families could take them in. After the war, she was granted Righteous Among the Nations status.
The story in this book centers on two families. One a wealthy Jewish chocolatier who has a wife suffering from cancer. They have two sons, Stephan and Walter. The other, a barber, a Christian grandfather who has a widowed daughter-in-law with two daughters. One is Zofie-Helene and the other Johanna. Their mother is a journalist who is very outspoken against the Nazis.
The story starts with both families living their normal lives and Zofie and Stephan becoming close friends. She’s mathematically gifted and he’s interested in being a playwright.
The chapters alternate between their stories and the story of Tante Truus and her rescues of small groups of children and the dangers she faces in that endeavor.
With Truus in the Netherlands and the others in Vienna, I wondered in the early parts of the book how she was going to help them being as they are quite a ways apart.
When Germany annexes Austria with not so much as a shot fired and seemingly overnight, Stephan’s family’s life undergoes a massive change. His father is taken to a camp and he goes into hiding as he is of an age where the Nazis want to inter him in a camp as well. His brother is only five and, at this time, they were not taking children that young to the camps.
Zofie’s mother, a Christian, eventually gets taken by the Nazis due to her unwelcome stories pointing out their conduct which she won’t stop writing even though she is pressured to do so. The two girls are left with their grandfather.
The story unfolded at a good pace. Some of the parts were very hard to read. The author depicted the utterly senseless cruelty of the Nazis and their adherents very well. It always amazes me how terribly awful these people could be to other people. And how the population turned on people who had been their friends and fellow citizens just days prior.
The author also did a good job showing the fear and terror of the ordinary citizen and why so many didn’t speak up to try to stop the atrocities they witnessed. A great part of the population was cowed and if they spoke up, they would be punished severely as well. Some of them tortured and murdered merely for voicing an opinion—or for nothing at all, even an imagined slight.
It was a harrowing read but one I recommend for several reasons. One, the story of the main characters in Vienna seems to be a reflection of what a lot of families went through during this time. Two, the story of Geertruida Wijsmuller is a story of how one person can make a massive difference in the lives of so many. One voice, one brave soul, she saved so many and gave them a chance at life and that is amazing. And third, with the seeming resurgence of some of the awful ideas the Nazi’s had, this is an important read. We must never, ever, let these things happen again and the author of this book makes what happened to Jewish people, as well as anyone who disagreed with the Nazi ideals in that time, all very real and relatable with the characters she created.
It’s release day for my new novel. The main character was inspired by my paternal great-grandmother and her tombstone.
No one is more surprised than sane, sensible Sophronia Neal when she inherits a Victorian manor from an elderly man she befriended at the bookstore she manages—except perhaps his two grandchildren who are outraged at the turn of events.
From that day, her existence becomes fraught with danger and intrigue. Not only does the house hold secrets Sophronia doesn’t understand, strange occurrences in her life make her question her sanity.
When she is attacked while walking her dog, she can’t decide if her life is in danger from a very real person intent on harming her or if there’s something more sinister at work—perhaps a restless spirit?
I went to a wedding a week ago in Tallahassee and, on my drive back, stopped at a couple of Goodwill Stores as they always seem to have a good selection of used books. One of the ones I purchased was The Family Upstairs. I hadn’t read any of this author before, but I’m a fan now. The book was intriguing as well as a quick read. A house with dark secrets is at the center of the tale.
The story is told from three points of view and I enjoyed all of them. Each had a distinctive voice and were compelling in different ways. The movement from each voice to the other was smooth and kept me turning pages.
In the author note, she stated her inspiration for the book came from seeing a woman in Nice, France sneaking her children into the public baths near the beach. From that, a tale of family terror, loss, and lives shattered was born. I loved how all the threads of the story came together. I figured out most of it, but a surprise or two in the pages made this reader happy as I usually solve it all before the end.
Each of the three protagonists were dramatically affected by their upbringings and the way the author showed how those experiences carried over into their adult lives was genius. It’s a dark tale, but moments of light and love shine through. I throughly recommend this one for a few hours of entertainment mixed with a little anxiety for the characters.
My grandfather, my mother’s father, was a kind, gentle soul. He was a soldier in WWI and worked after the war helping build the Wilson Dam in Florence, Alabama as well as other projects that needed manual labor during that time period. He also did work for the WPA (Works progress Administration) during the depression. He was also a tenant farmer who worked the cotton fields. He was eventually the father of ten children. My mother was number 8. All the children worked those fields to help support the family. It was a rough life, but they were full of joy. The children all remained close as adults. We had a slew of cousins to play with for sure. The house was always filled with laughter. Loud, fun, crazy family members.
By the time I knew my grandfather, he was in his sixties. He was a quiet man who didn’t say much. They lived in an old house with no indoor plumbing. There was a well for water and four buckets sat at the back door at the kitchen. Three were for cooking and the fourth had a beat up old ladle we all drank from. It was the iciest, coldest, water ever. My grandmother had a red pump to pump water into the sink. She also had one of those clothes washers that basically ran around the room. It was fun to watch that thing. She hung all clothes to dry and sheets as well.
We didn’t spend the night with them often—we usually stayed with my dad’s parents who had a bigger house in town—but when we did, we either had to use a chamber pot or run to the outhouse past the chicken coop which was a fair distance. I think that may be where I got part of my active imagination as I ran through the night in my jammies past those chickens. I imagined all kinds of demons on my tail. And man, if you’ve never smelled the inside of an outhouse, count yourself lucky. You’ll never forget it. It is a visceral memory to me to this day.
Anyway, back to my grandfather. The year I was going to turn 8, we lived in Virginia. We traveled down for Christmas—a14 hour drive—and arrived at my dad’s parent’s house around 7 pm on the 21st of December. My sister and I went to our room to put our suitcases down. My mother started screaming and crying so loudly, we were terrified.
We raced out to the den and found my mother hysterical. My grandfather had to break the news to her that her father died in his sleep and her mother found him when she tried to wake him for breakfast. He died 13 days before his 72nd birthday.
It was a terrible Christmas that year. I still remember my mother unwrapping the shirt we’d bought for him so she could take it back to the store. She helped my grandmother take back a lot of things that year. It was heartbreaking even for a little kid to see. I can’t listen to that song where the grandmother gets run over by a reindeer. Having lived a Christmas like I did that year, I can’t deal with that song.
There is a picture of me (wish I could find it as I write this) on my birthday that year sitting on the couch holding my new doll. It is a pitiful picture as I look so sad and alone.
He never said much—unless you thought you could turn the television channel because he was asleep. He’d mumble, “I was watching that.” He didn’t get mad, but we never changed it when he said that. He always had a spittoon by his side and always wore a fedora. He also cooled his coffee by pouring it into his saucer once he’d added his cream and sugar. It made me laugh.
I could say a lot more about him and his life, but I’ll save some stories for another day. Suffice it to say, I miss him even after all this time, and for some reason, I’ve felt him close to me this year. I sense him, watching out for me, as I make my way through this tough year.
My great grandmother, Mallie Phillips Fowler wasn’t your typical sweet little old lady. She was a ball of fire and very sassy. I like to think I inherited some of her moxie. I was in my 20s when she died and she was in her 90s. One of the last times I saw her, she was in her yard with her cane in one hand and a rake in the other and my grandfather, her son, was begging her to go inside and let him do the raking. No way. She was adamant she could do it. He threatened her with the nursing home, but she just laughed and kept on working. She lived a number of months after that. Sadly, I lived over 360 miles away so I didn’t see her as often as I’d have liked.
Two things stand out in my memory of my whole life visiting her. She always, always, always—even those last visits—had a coconut cake on her dining room table. It was the best cake ever. She used fresh coconut and shredded it herself and used the coconut milk in the batter. None of us in the family have ever been able to duplicate it. One of a kind—like her. She also had one of those glass chicken candy dishes and it always had those hard candy mixes in it —you know, the kind you get at Christmas and they get all stuck together? My sister and I spent many hours tugging that junk apart. We each have a candy dish like that in our homes now. Mine holds loose change, though. Lol.
Why am I yakking about this lady? Well, my new book that’s out tomorrow and up for preorder now has a character who has some of my great grandmother’s characteristics. Miss Hattie in my story is one of the minor characters who plays a role in assisting the detectives in solving the murder at the heart of the story. She happens to be pretty sassy and makes a divine coconut cake (I almost said a to-die-for cake, but thought better of it 🙂 )
Overkill is available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Black Opal Books, among other retailers. As an ebook or paperback.
This story is set in my hometown, Pensacola, and features many local landmarks as well as restaurants I love to visit- all local owned and operated, some by more than one generation! It’s a tour of my town as well as a bit of a thriller with some romance woven in. Buy link
The e-book is available today and the print book should be out by the end of the week. So excited to have this one out in the world. Cali is a sassy teenage witch who has so much personality, she was a joy to work with on this story. I hope readers like her as much as I do.
Blurb:
One chaotic week in October, former friends, a guardian angel, and a secret prophecy cause turmoil in the life of a teen-age witch-in-training.
Cali French, a high school senior, is cut out of her inner circle when she refuses to participate in a spell her friends want to cast. Cali fears the dark magic and the unknown consequences of the shortcut they want to take by casting the spell.
Unbeknownst to her, Cali is the subject of an important prophecy. Her former pals have discovered this and have an even more sinister motive in forcing her to cooperate in their work than Cali can imagine.
Her very life in peril, the young witch-in-training faces unknown dangers relying only on her unpolished skills and some assistance from a guardian angel and a gentle giant.
Today’s word is a fun one. Its meaning is comparing horoscopes between two (or more) people to determine if they are likely to be compatible or have a good relationship. The word is SYNASTRY.
Have you ever done that? I’ve done it in a few Chinese restaurants where they have the years on the paper placemat. We always check that out with the people we’re with to see if we’re supposed to even be at the same table. I’m a Rat. Next time you’re in the mood, research your animal and see if we’d be compatible. Check it out here– Seems like Rats make good lawyers. Who knew? LOL!
In the last week, I’ve had a lot of sadness in my life. It’s weird how it comes in spurts like that. It started with the death of the man who rented office space from me. He’s been ill for a while so even though we all knew he was not doing well, it was a bit of a shock to hear that he passed away in his sleep during the day on last Friday. His family has decided to have his services in the town where he grew up instead of here where he lived for over thirty years. This saddens me as he was a big part of the community here and they are robbing us of the chance to say goodbye.
In the last day, I learned that a friend’s son was killed when a car backed over him. He was only seven. I’m utterly shattered for my friend and her family. I know how much they adored that little boy and I can’t wrap my head around such a devastating loss. I don’t know how they’re going to make it from day to day with this hole in their lives. There’s nothing I can say or do to make it better. I wish there was.
Death really puts things in perspective. I know I let things bother me and I get hurt easily but as I think about these people -both too young to go- being gone and no longer able to enjoy time with family and friends, I find myself hoping that the life I lead in the time I have left is one such that my family and friends will be as bereft as I am at the loss of these two. I endeavor to be as good a person as they both were.
Ramblings of a Writer 