The Ladies Auxiliary, book review

The Ladies Auxiliary by Tova Mirvis is not new on the scene (published in 1999), but I picked it up because I wanted to know more about the novel’s backdrop – the Jewish Orthodox community in Memphis, Tennessee. I’d never heard of such a thing. (Had you?)

When Batsheva, a free-spirited Jewish convert, moves to Memphis’ insular Orthodox neighborhood, she makes the women of the Ladies Auxiliary question things they’d never thought to question before. As Batsheva’s popularity waxes and wanes, everything about her life is examined by the Auxiliary – her friendship with Yosef, the Rabbi’s handsome, learned son; her teaching methods at the school; and – most alarmingly – her increasingly influential relationship with the community’s impressionable teenage daughters.

In The Ladies Auxiliary, Mirvis employs a literary technique I’d never encountered in modern literature: the use of first person plural (“we”) as her narrator – a collective voice, like a Greek chorus. It took me a while to get used to this, but I thought it worked – mostly. The most significant downside was my inability to “see” who was speaking. The device might also have more effective had Mirvis not dipped occasionally into a weirdly jarring third-person POV.

That said, I found Mirvis’ insider’s take on this exclusive society fascinating, and her characters well-drawn. Though the plot faltered toward the end, and the conclusion lacked satisfying closure, it was an eye-opening glimpaw into the modern American Jewish Orthodox community.

A Girl Named Zippy, book review

My neighbor, who’s as indefatigable a reader as I am, handed me this book by Haven Kimmel and said, “I think you might like this one.”


In A Girl Named Zippy: Growing up Small in Mooreland, Indiana, the author shares stories of her 1970s childhood, from birth until about age ten. Kimmel was born as an afterthought into a family that included an aloof, much-older brother; a beguiling sister, as beautiful as Kimmel was funny-looking; a mom who, when not mired in depression, loved books, her family and God; and an atheist, cigarette-wielding, gun-toting-but-devoted father.


Talk about fodder for Midwestern drama.


In this mostly sweet, often quirky memoir (once a Today’s Book Club pick), Kimmel achieves an artful retelling of a contented childhood. How she manages to turn that into a page-turner still eludes me. Tension surely exists – between Zippy and her family, between Zippy and her fellow townsfolk (especially the grownups who don’t know what to make of this odd little girl with the too-big teeth and the barely-there hair). How Kimmel weaves these conflicts together to propel her characters forward is a testament to her skill as a storyteller.


In getting her memoir published, Kimmel defied the odds. She’s not famous; neither is Mooreland, population 300, which in this book stands as a character on its own. Plus, Kimmel writes of a happy childhood. How does this form the basis for a bestseller? Perhaps the secret lies in Kimmel’s prose, which, though unadorned, rings clear and true. I challenge any reader to not find something to enjoy about A Girl Named Zippy.

Beside Still Waters: Author Interview

Still Missing, book review

In her book Still Missing, newcomer author Chevy Stevens uses a technique I've seen few novelists pull off - second-person point of view. She writes to you. The you is not you, the reader, however; it's the psychologist to whom the protagonist tells her tale. Does it work? I'll get to that.

Annie O’Sullivan is waiting…alone…at an Open House, hoping to make a sale when a white van pulls into the driveway. She thinks her luck is about to change when instead, it’s her life that changes – hideously, forever. Abducted and imprisoned for a year at a remote mountain cabin, she endures unthinkable acts at the hands of a man she calls The Freak. Not until after her escape, however, does she grasp the whole horror of what she’s been through – for though she’s managed to break free from The Freak, she cannot so easily untangle herself from her own memories. The story that unfolds, as Annie shares her living nightmare with her shrink, is of her struggle to piece her life together as the investigation continues its attempt to identify her captor.

Still Missing is one of those rare debut novels that knocks you off your feet. What drives the story – what makes it both chilling and universally fascinating – is Annie’s quest to find hope, healing and wholeness following a devastating trauma. A lesser protagonist would crumble, but Annie O’Sullivan manages…somehow… to hang on. Stevens uses shocking language to tell Annie tale, but – and I don’t say this lightly – it’s not gratuitous. Stevens’ trick of using Annie’s shrink sessions to tell much of the story is also masterfully done - so yes, the risky POV works. My only complaint (spoiler alert) is when Annie has sex with the lead investigator on her case. The act is supposed to show progress in Annie’s character development, proof that she can be intimate with a man again. But no – this is too cheap and easy. It also completely (and unsatisfactorily) deflates the element of romantic suspense that Stevens, until this point, nurtures exquisitely.

Nonetheless, if you have the stomach for it, Still Missing is an edgy, spell-binding tale you won't want to put down.

Ice Cold, book review

When I’m looking for a thrill ride of a book, Tess Gerritsen seldom fails to deliver, and so I was pleased to check out Ice Cold, her latest. It’s the eighth of her novels featuring the tried-and-true duo of homicide detective Jane Rizzoli and medical examiner Maura Isles.

While at a medical conference in Wyoming, Maura is surprised to encounter a college acquaintance, who persuades her to join him, his daughter, and another couple on a spontaneous ski trip. An accident soon derails their adventure, however, and they seek refuge in the village of Kingdom Come, a cult’s home that’s been mysteriously abandoned. Jane, meanwhile, becomes concerned when she’s unable to reach Maura, and when local police find five charred bodies at the scene of a vehicle accident and identify one of them as Maura’s, Jane travels to Wyoming to investigate.

Though there were a few plot holes that I would have liked filled, Ice Cold offers satisfying depth in both story and characters, neither of which ever feels cardboard or contrived. In this way, Gerritsen remains true to form. Even so, the suspenseful thrills here weren’t as gratifying as those which I’ve experienced in many of her other works. This novel felt too commercialized, actually. I had the same reaction when Mary Higgins Clark relaxed into her role as Queen of Suspense. In Gerritsen’s case, perhaps the fact that TNT recently launched a TV series based on Maura and Jane had something to do with it. Perhaps the speed with which she must now produce her work makes the quality suffer. Which is not to say that Ice Cold was poorly written. It wasn’t. But if you’re looking for the full-on, goose-bump-raising effect of Tess Gerritsen at her finest, I’d suggest you start with one of her earlier works.