A World of Curiosities by Louise Penny: A review

It is always a pleasure to spend time in the cozy little village of Three Pines and that continues to be true in Louise Penny's latest addition to her Inspector Gamache series. This is the eighteenth in the series and the stories have lost none of their freshness.

In this entry, we find two young people, a brother and sister, who had entered Gamache's and Jean-Claude Beauvoir's lives several years earlier when they were children. Their mother had been murdered, shattering her children's lives. And now they have returned to the village but the question is why? This is a complicated tale that has its roots in that long-ago tragic event.

Of the two, the brother and sister, the sister seems to have survived the tragedy with greater resilience. Her name is Fiona and she has lived with the Gamaches and now is graduating from school. Her brother, Sam, also attends the ceremony and seems determined to stay in Three Pines. This concerns Inspector Gamache because Sam is a very disturbed individual, possibly even psychopathic.

In another offshoot of the story, a historical letter written by a long-dead stonemason leads to the discovery of a walled-in attic space that contains some hidden treasures including a grimoire (which I learned is a book of spells and invocations) and a version of a famous painting called the Paston Treasure with its illustration of "a world of curiosities." The painting contains hidden messages and puzzles that alarm Gamache, alerting him to a possible danger to the village which he holds dear.

This was another entertaining read in this long and much-loved series about ordinary people living their lives in an ordinary village. All the beloved residents of that village are present once again to entertain the reader with their interactions, including my favorite, the prickly poet, Ruth Zardo, and her duck, Rosa. Everyone should have a Ruth and Rosa in their life.

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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