Exiles by Jane Harper: A review

Exiles is an atmospheric mystery set in the wine country in the south of Australia. We find investigator Aaron Falk there as he attends the christening of the son of his friend, Greg Raco. Aaron has been asked to be his godfather, so he is there in a completely civilian and social capacity, not as a financial federal investigator.

However, there is a mystery here to be investigated. A year previously, a young mother had gone missing from the area, leaving her baby in a stroller in the parking lot at the annual wine festival. She has not been seen since and the mystery of her disappearance still troubles the community.

The mother had been married to Greg Raco's brother Charlie and voluntarily leaving her baby behind would have been completely anomalous behavior for her. The family asks their friend Aaron to look into the case further for them and try to find out what has happened to the missing mother.

This is a complicated mystery with multiple layers and it develops slowly, flowing between past and present timelines. Jane Harper takes great care in describing the personalities of the characters and the geography of the area in which the action takes place. Her descriptions of the vineyards and of the sunrises and sunsets there are quite vivid and memorable. I imagine it as a really beautiful place.

Aaron Falk is an interesting character and in Exiles we see him torn between different possible career paths. Is there a career change in the offing for him? Guess we'll have to read the next installment to find out.

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: 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. ...

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 ...

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