Dressed for Death by Donna Leon: A review

A dead body is found in a field near a slaughterhouse in Marghera, near Venice. At first glance, it appears to be one of the prostitutes who work the area around the abbatoir. But on examination, it turns out to be a man dressed in a woman's red dress and underwear and red silk shoes. The victim has been beaten about the head and face so badly that he is rendered unrecognizable.

When his gender is discovered, the assumption becomes that he is a transvestite prostitute and the investigation of the death at first proceeds on that theory. But you know what they say about assuming things...

It is the middle of August when all of this happens, vacation time for Italians. Commissario Guido Brunetti and his family have plans to escape the oppressive heat of Venice for two weeks on a refreshing trip to the mountains where, even in mid-summer, sweaters are required. Then he gets "the call." He has been assigned to head the investigation of this appalling murder. His wife and children go on to the mountains without him and he is stuck in the steamy, suffocating atmosphere of Venice trying to, first of all, learn the identity of the murder victim and then find out who killed him and bring that person to justice.

As the investigation proceeds, the body count mounts and Brunetti must once again wrestle with the corrupt bureaucracy of Italy where powerful people are able to buy the police and ensure the outcomes that they desire from government offices. Hmm...that does hit a bit too close to home.

Brunetti, of course, will not be bought. He is an upright and honorable man who loves his wife and children and goes home at night to eat peaches and read from Tacitus' Annals of Imperial Rome. While his wife is gone, he cooks wonderful, healthy meals for himself and cleans up after himself. What a man!

I really like the characters of Brunetti and his family. This is the third book in the series and the third one I have read and I find my affection for the characters growing with each installment.

That being said, this particular entry was not my favorite. I think I was put off in part by the constant references to the oppressive heat and humidity. I do know something about oppressive heat and humidity. It's late May here and our daily temperatures in Southeast Texas hover in the upper 90s F with humidity to match. Working in the garden for an hour requires a complete change of clothes when one comes inside else one drips all over the floor and furniture. So, yes, I do understand the pervasiveness of that particular climatic feature and how it dominates every other consideration, and I can understand that the author felt the need to continually refer to it. I guess I just found that a bit of overkill since I was living it every time I stepped outside. Another reader might have a completely different reaction.

Donna Leon is a very good writer and this was certainly not a bad book. It's just that, on the whole, I found it a bit bland.

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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