One By One by Ruth Ware:A review

Ruth Ware's homage to Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None is set in a remote chalet in the French Alps instead of on a mysterious island, but the air of mystery and dread that slowly descends on the place is much the same. In this case, the chalet is cut off from civilization by an avalanche that knocks out the electricity and phone service and the wi-fi connection to the outside world. Thus a weekend that was meant to be an off-site retreat for a tech company in order to promote mindfulness and collaboration becomes a struggle for survival, made more urgent when people start dying. It is soon evident that the deaths are not natural or accidents and there is a killer among the group. Who will be left alive when the weekend ends or when rescuers manage to make it to the chalet?

The chalet is staffed by a chef and a concierge who are good friends. They and the group of co-workers from the tech company are the only people on site. It is soon evident that there are strains in the relationships of the co-workers, mostly related to the possibility of a buyout of the company. Some who own stock in the company stand to make a great deal of money. Or not. The uncertainty is enough to put people on edge.

Ware builds her story slowly and carefully. She tells it primarily through two characters - the concierge and a former employee and current stockholder of the company who has been invited along for the weekend. We soon suspect that things are not entirely as they seem with either of these characters.

It was a bit difficult at times to keep up with the plethora of characters and their interactions. We get to know the chalet employees, Danny the chef and Erin the concierge/manager really well. The only one of the guests that we really get to know well is Liz, the former employee/current stockholder who is the second point of view through which the author tells the story. The other guests become known to us mostly through their relationships with Liz.

As the dead bodies begin to pile up, it becomes a race to figure out whodunit and for survivors to decide whom they can trust - if they can trust anyone. It's not clear that the outside world knows their situation and that any help is coming for them and they have no way of communicating. The chills are not just due to the weather.

This was my first experience reading Ruth Ware and it was a quick and entertaining introduction. It was an intriguing idea for a book. The plot development was a strong point; the character development less so. It seemed pretty evident from fairly early on who the killer was, even though the motive and means were not necessarily clear until later. So, I was not really surprised when all was revealed. Still, it was a diverting read and I would definitely pick up another Ruth Ware book.

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...

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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. ...

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