Don't Eat Me by Colin Cotterill: A review

I did not enjoy reading this book. It was not that the writing was bad; it was more than adequate, up to Colin Cotterill's usual standards. It was not that I didn't like the characters; Dr. Siri Paiboun and his merry band of disrupters in mid-1970s Laos are among my favorite characters in today's fiction and they were all present here, although Dr. Siri was much less prominent than he is in many of the books in the series. No, my problem with the book was its subject matter.

I don't have many rules about what I will or won't read. I tend to be pretty eclectic in my choice of reading materials. But there are a few things that I try to avoid, simply because reading about them is so painful for me. Chief among these subjects are the torture, murder, and trafficking of animals and children. It is such crimes that are at the heart of Don't Eat Me.

You can't say I wasn't forewarned. The prologue features a young woman locked in a crate with starving civets with predictable results. When all that is left of the woman - essentially her skeleton - is later found propped up next to a monument in Vientiane, that is the starting point of the mystery that Siri and his coterie must solve.

The investigation, commanded by the new head of police Inspector Phosy, leads rather quickly to discovery of a major operation of trafficking in exotic animals, animals that are brutalized in captivity, a large percentage of them ending up dead before they reach their supposed destinations. There's also a side operation in the trafficking of young children for the sex trade. They are treated no better than the animals.

Phosy, in his new job, has been hard at work trying to root out corruption in the police force. He's fired people, put some in prison, and is hiring new people whom he can trust (he hopes) as quickly as he can. Now he has this huge investigation to conduct with a force that is, at most, half reliable.

Of course, he also has his volunteer force, the Siriacs. They save the day, as they always do.

A parallel plot line has Siri and his old friend Civilai coming into possession of a modern movie camera, which neither knows how to operate, and planning to film a Laotian version of War and Peace, which will, of course, win the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival.

I read this series for the humor and there are usually plenty of laughs or at least smiles and chuckles engendered by the plots. Not so much this time. Indeed, with such a serious main subject, the usual humor might have seemed a bit offputting. In a heartfelt afterword, the author offers more perspective on animal and human trafficking in Southeast Asia. It's a topic that he is obviously passionate about and is trying to do his bit to bring to the world's attention. I salute him for that. Still, I could not find this book as enjoyable a read as the Siri books usually are. Truth is, I rushed through it as fast as I could.

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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