Willful Behavior by Donna Leon: A review

Claudia Leonardo is a student of English Literature at the university in Venice where Paolo Brunetti teaches. In class, Claudia is a very quiet young woman, seldom speaking, but the work that she presents to Professor Brunetti is exemplary. She shows an extraordinary understanding of the material and a particular admiration for Paolo's own literary hero, Henry James.

Paolo surmises that anyone with such an appreciation of James must be extremely intelligent. Thus, when Claudia lingers after class one day and asks to speak with Paolo, she is prepared to give her her full attention.

Claudia is aware that Paolo is married to a policeman, Commissario Guido Brunetti, and she wants her to ask her husband a question. She wants to know whether there is a process for obtaining a pardon for a long-dead individual who was convicted of a crime, perhaps unjustly. Paolo answers that she doesn't think her husband can answer the question without more information about what the crime was, when it occurred, etc., but Claudia refuses to elucidate and instead asks if she can speak to the Commissario herself. Paolo advises her to go to the Questura and request to speak to him.

When Claudia does go to speak to Guido, he, too, is very impressed with her intelligence and maturity and they bond over a mutual appreciation of ancient history, but in the end, she still refuses to give sufficient information for him to definitively answer her question. He's only able to give her generalities which is not what she had hoped for.

She goes on her way and Guido returns to his paperwork. But a few days later when the body of a young woman who had been savagely stabbed to death is discovered by her roommate, Guido is shocked to learn that the victim is Claudia.

Investigating the murder uncovers many secrets including the fact that the person whose name Claudia was interested in clearing was her grandfather who was an art dealer during World War II and was later convicted of having taken advantage of and cheated those, primarily Jews, who were desperate to escape the country during that time. Guido visits the home of his lover, whom Claudia referred to as her grandmother. In that home, on the walls and all around the house are art treasures of inestimable worth. The investigation is further complicated by the fact that the lover also is soon found dead in her home and her will reveals her heir as Claudia Leonardo. Guido at first suspects foul play but it seems that the woman who was quite old and ill simply died of natural causes.

In order to solve the murder of Claudia, Guido must untangle the mystery of the artworks and their provenance and find out who might have benefited from her death. As always, Donna Leon delves into the underlying social problems that contribute to this particular crime. In Venice, things are never straightforward and never quite what they seem. And as always, Guido's network of friends, family, and work colleagues assist him in uncovering the truth in his attempt to achieve justice.

Donna Leon's recurring characters remain as appealing as ever and the plot is sharp and well constructed. And her love of Venice, in spite of all its Machiavellian ways, shines through in the thoughts and words of the ever-honorable Guido Brunetti.

My rating: 4 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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