Doctored Evidence by Donna Leon: A review

I haven't visited Venice and the Brunetti family for a while, so let's hop a vaporetto and check out what the good Commissario Brunetti is up to.

Well, it seems he's up to the same old thing - fighting the good fight (usually a losing fight) against the endemic corruption in Venetian and Italian society. This is the thirteenth in Donna Leon's popular series and it was published in 2004, so we are slowly getting closer to the current day.

The case that is drawing Brunetti's attention this time around is the brutal murder of an old woman in her apartment. The murder had happened a few weeks before and had been quickly "solved" by the odious Lieutenant Scarpa. It was determined that the woman's Romanian carer had killed her and then she herself had been killed when struck by a train while fleeing police. Brunetti's fatuous superior, Patta, is, of course, delighted with the quick result.

Then a neighbor who has been out of the country contacts the police to provide an alibi for the Romanian. She knows that she could not possibly have killed her employer. Scarpa is not happy and doesn't want to hear it, so he passes her off to Brunetti. Brunetti listens to her story and believes her. He decides to investigate but will have to do it on the sly since Patta considers the case closed.

He soon learns that the woman was universally despised and there are any number of people who might have wanted to kill her. As he and Vianello and Signorina Elettra dig into the background and finances of the victim, searching for a possible motive, they find several bank accounts with a substantial sum of money. Money is always a good motive, but Brunetti suspects something more personal and keeps digging.

While he digs, of course, he still goes home for lunch and dinner each day, prepared by his gourmet cook wife, Paola, and enjoys his meals with her and their son and daughter, now teenagers. The family's interactions around the dinner table are always some of the best moments of these books. His conversations with his wife keep him grounded and give him and the reader a lot to think about - in this case, it's the Seven Deadly Sins!

Maybe the deadliest sin of all is pride and the fear of being shamed. It's the cause of much misery in the world.

The play on words behind the title of the book becomes clear near the end and brings a smile. Clever plotting and a quick and undemanding read.

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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