Joanna Vander Vlugt believes that all books should be works of art. She’s got a leg up there, being an artist-illustrator as well as a fine writer. Her sketch of protagonist, motorcycle-riding lawyer, Jade Thyme, blasts off the page carried by the energy of the craft.
Spy Girls, book three in the Jade and Sage Thriller series, is a rollicking and relentless legal thriller that answers the question: Can justice really prevail? The plot begins when millionaire Chief Justice Chimera—a revolting toad who sexually harasses and abuses young women who have the bad fortune to end up in his courtroom AND who is destined to become Canada’s next Prime Minister—is found murdered in his hot tub. Is this poetic justice? The work of a vigilante? The problem is: Sage Thyme’s girlfriend was the last person seen in the hot tub with Chimera, and now she’s missing, off her medication, and a person of interest along with Chimera’s wife, Anya, herself a pastry-chef and Russian ex-double-agent. Complicated? That’s not the half of it.
A high-voltage spy thriller, fueled by insidious twists, deceptive characters, and high-stakes action, Spy Girls is played out at intimate settings in Victoria, B.C. and the Downtown East Side in Vancouver.
Things I liked about this book: Slick dialogue and intimate details, like a box of gold-plated teeth from a murdered preacher, that show up here and there as clues. The play on names. A chimera is a devilish, mythological creature formed from parts of various animals; for example, a goat and serpent. Fitting? Indeed. Katriona Kalocsay, the snazzy, psychopathic, Hungarian villain who uses pliers to deal out her own brand of justice (teeth and nails. Yikes!) The formatting: the book comes complete with a Table of Contents divided into four parts. Each chapter highlights a cheeky quotation to rev up the reader and catchy chapter heads.
Vancouver Island writer, Joanna Vander Vlugt has a unique writing style and experiments with fresh ways to use basic literary terms. Gems like “my caterpillar confidence” and “an onion of nerves” catch the reader’s eye. She does something interesting with verbs, adding “ing” in surprising places—“Adam marched in, slamming him against the inside wall,” and “Adam shouted, dropping Jan to the floor”—that complements the action.
Though Spy Girls is the third instalment in the series, this novel can be read alone. There are enough mentions of backstory to piece together the intimate web that connects the characters, be they ex-CIA spies and their handlers; fathers and daughters; sisters, lovers, and friends. The first two novels, The Unravelling and Dealer’s Child, were Canadian Book Club Awards finalists. Joanna worked in the prosecutor’s office for thirteen years and spent another ten working in the Office of the Police Complaint Commissioner, so has plenty of fodder for her novels. She is also a wonderful interviewer and editor of SAM Magazine. Her motorcycle illustrations have been purchased world-wide, and her Woman Empowered motorcycle art series has been featured in on-line art and motorcycle magazines.
Reading Spy Girls is like running a marathon. It will leave you breathless, yet satisfied.
There’s an ongoing argument among writers about what makes a novel literary rather than genre. This novel, which I picked up in one of my neighbourhood little libraries, solved it for me.
It’s in the voice.
Voice is how an author writes—what they choose to say and how they choose to say it. Voice is the one quality that can slow down my reading because I want to wallow in it, rather than race to find out what happens next.
Sointula is an older novel, going on twenty years, but I don’t feel it’s dated in the least. Vancouver Island and its wild places are still here echoing in the mist. Sointula, for those of you who’ve never heard of it, is a seaside town on Malcolm Island (just off the northeast coast of Vancouver Island). It’s built on the unceded Kwakwakw’akw Territory of the ‘Namgis, Mamalilikala, and Kwakuitl Nations. Sointula was created by a group of Finnish settlers in 1901 as their Utopia.
Bill Gaston weaves his awareness of the island through the experiences of Tom, a rough-edged, damaged, young man who’s there recovering from a near-wack by a Vietnamese gang. Something to do with drugs. Tom is living alone on the beach, observing and counting orcas. He’s also involved in getting drugs into B.C. — something about hearing boats on his orca sonar and building a big old bonfire when the coast is literally clear for the drug boats to come through.
Tom’s life story is described in wistful detail through his mother’s memories.
Evelyn has left her privileged life as the wife of the Mayor of Oakville, Ontario to join her dying ex in Victoria, B.C. After Claude’s passing, she puts his ashes into a glass vile, steals a double kayak, and heads north on her own. Evelyn has no money, no food, no clothes other than the ones she came with. She hasn’t seen her son Tom in a decade but she needs to now. She needs to tell him about his father’s death.
En route, Evelyn meets Peter Gore, whose gall bladder is literally killing him. Still, he joins Evelyn in her stolen kayak with his rum and his desire to write a book. Over many pages, Peter falls in love with Eve and with life.
All three characters are flawed. It would be hard to even sympathize with them if it weren’t for the elegant backstories Gaston weaves throughout this masterful story. I see myself in Evelyn’s estrangement from her grown son and her desperation to find peace in the wild hollows. I love her outlaw spirit. Sointula means “place of harmony” and in all the chaos of travel, sickness, grime, and starvation—traveling without funds is not clean nor romantic—it seems that harmony prevails. Even Love.
Reading Sointula was almost enough to make me get in the car and drive north two hours to Port McNeill. From there it’s only a short ferry ride to Malcolm Island. The land itself plays a character in this story and the tale borders on travel writing.
It was enough to make me look for more Gaston books and take a deep dive into Can Lit.
If you’ve never read Jackie Elliott’s Coffin Cove cozy mysteries you’re in for a salty treat. Each story in this, currently four-book series, builds off the last and draws us deeper into the endangered and fearsome lives of Coffin Cove’s venturesome journalist/sleuth, Andi Silvers, along with her friends and neighbours. Imagine Murder, She Wrote liberally sprinkled with the grit and ferocity of The Shipping News, then nuanced with the history and atmosphere of Vancouver Island small town smack.
Elliott doesn’t shy away from shining a spotlight on political, social, and economic issues common to small provincial towns—especially those whose livelihoods were based on the forestry and fishing industries. We find fishers vs. loggers vs. environmental greenies, as well as rampant sexism, racism, and homophobia. When the tide turns and raw materials are depleted, a town must adapt or die— a sentiment Mayor Jade Thompson wears etched across her forehead. Jade beat out one of the oldest boys in the club to spirit Coffin Cove—a small town near Nanaimo—into the 21st Century, despite almost dying herself. Now, she’s turning the fish plant into a trendy tourist attraction and organizing an Indigenous cultural centre on offshore Hope Island—both gestures that have the locals pointing pitchforks.
The Vile Narrows refers to a treacherous stretch of sea bordering Quadra Island that hid Ripple Rock, “an underwater mountain with two peaks which caused dangerous eddies from the strong tidal currents that ran through Seymour Narrows” in Discovery Passage. On April 5, 1958 the government blew it to bits. Also on that day, Randolph Weber rescued a young boy—an act that comes back to haunt him decades later when, at the age of one hundred, he’s murdered in his home on Quadra Island. Soon after, his son, archaeologist Gerald Weber is murdered in Coffin Cove. Seeing an obvious connection, Andi Silvers sends a young reporter to Quadra to parse out the story for the Gazette. Meanwhile, a psychopath from earlier in the series resurfaces in Coffin Cove and Andi’s father, himself a journalist, disappears. The RCMP are hard into it as Elliott piles body on body with the precision of the most intimate executioner. Her murders are brutal and visceral. Why shoot someone when you can bash in their skull with a cast iron pot or stab them gleefully multiple times with a homemade knife?
Elliott’s strength lies in her ability to twist fact and fiction, past and present, into a pretzel of a tale. I’ve just read all four murder mysteries—though not in order—and had no problem following along, although I drew visual mind maps to connect the characters like Elliott’s detectives do. Each chapter introduces a character with a full-on backstory that situates the reader in the midst of their life, their trauma, and their agenda. Elliott’s writing is fluid, sensory, and descriptive, and she has an excellent ear for dialogue. Moreover, you will learn things, like the difference between a purse seiner and a packer, and what it’s like to live aboard a boat in January.
Elliott writes with all the earthy charm of Anne Cleeves—perhaps the blood of the gritty English murder mystery writer runs through her veins. It’s where she began. Since marrying a Canadian West Coast fisherman in 2004, she’s become enamored with the charm of Vancouver Island’s harbour towns. Book two in this series, Hell’s Half Acre, was shortlisted for the Crime Writers of Canada 2022 Whodunit award for best traditional mystery. Take a chance on this rivetting cozy mystery series that won’t disappoint. The nautical lover in each of us will enjoy exploring Coffin Cove.
For most of us insomniacs the night is no gift. Even if we’ve done our best to follow a sleep-inducing routine, we may not fall asleep or stay asleep. Many of us sleep soundly until two or three a.m. only to awaken and lie tossing and turning until morning.
What psychotherapist Philip Carr-Gomm proposes in his latest book is a six-step program to cultivate better sleep. Based on the latest sleep science and tested through his sleep clinic, he offers understanding and relief. I’ve been following Philip since he was Chief of the Order of Bards, Ovates, and Druids, a position he held for thirty-two years (1988-2020). I participated in his sleep clinic a few years ago, so was pleased to see the outcome of his studies appear in the form of this book.
What Philip proposes is a shift in our attitude toward sleep. Those of us who suffer from insomnia know that lying in bed worrying about all the things we have to do tomorrow and how wretched we’re going to feel, is the absolute worst thing we can do. The shift is this: Think of the night as a magical time when “the conscious and unconscious minds, the ego and deep self can cooperate to give you the fullest possible experience of life” (20.)
Sleep is not time wasted nor is the time we spend trying to sleep. Rather than suffer, we can transform it into a magical time using a set of tools and techniques. What occurs at night while your body is at rest is: healing, problem-solving, creativity, inspiration, and spiritual development. What Philip outlines in this book is a way to encourage and allow that shift in consciousness so the magic can happen.
His work is both scientific and spiritual. You will learn about your body but also about your mind and spirit. What does he suggest will lead to a generally good night’s sleep.
Spend time daily with Nature. Communing with trees, plants, and animals and spending time in the sun helps put our Circadian rhythms back on track.
Address your stress levels through daily practice: mindfulness meditation and visualization, yoga, tai chi, qi gong, sophrology, or yoga nidra. Philip has studied these practices and leads weekly meditations on “Tea with a Druid.”
Tend to your emotional life in whatever way works for you (counselling, journaling, dealing with your stuff, etc.)
Part 1 of the book is structured in six steps. Briefly:
Stop fighting and reframe the night. If you can’t sleep, then rest and meditate. This alone will induce a shift in consciousness. Something that I’ve researched myself is how meditation lowers the speed of our brainwaves from beta (jumpy, monkey mind) to alpha and theta (a blissfully creative state.) I use this technique to write novels.
Tune in to your personal sleep story, your patterns and nature, and your chronotype. Are you a lark or a night owl? When is your optimal bedtime?
Understand the body and how it’s affected by various substances. Here, Philip provides his opinions (based on facts) about what works, what might work, and what doesn’t work.
Create a sleep-inducing setting.
Experiment with techniques. He describes thirteen methods to either send you to sleep or into a creative mode.
Explore rituals and routines that work for you.
In Part 2, Philip answers most every question ever asked regarding sleep.
All in all, The Gift of the Night is a step forward in sleep consciousness. If you find one or two things that help you personally, it’s worth the cost. For me, it’s visualization and binaural beats; for you it may be hypnotherapy, EFT, or a daily yoga practice. Note that if you purchase the audio edition, Philip will read the book to you in his soothing British voice. For a sample, join him for “Tea with a Druid”—live-streamed every Monday at 8pm UK time (noon on the Pacific Northwest coast)—for a conversation and meditation lasting 20-30 minutes. You’ll be in the good company of hundreds of druids from around the world who meet together in the sacred grove. You can find recordings of over 250 of these programs on his YouTube channel. And you can read or listen to interviews here.
One more thing. This lullaby from the Highlands of Scotland is one of the most beautiful and relaxing pieces I’ve ever heard. You can listen to it here. It’s called “Healing Sleep.”
Over the holidays, I discovered this used book in our local bookstore and decided to read it. This is the kind of story one can call delightful. It was written by Edith Nesbit who wrote under the pen name E. Nesbit. Her biography says: “She was a mischievous, tomboyish child who grew into an unconventional adult. With her husband, Hubert Bland, she was one of the founder members of the socialist Fabian Society; their household became a centre of the socialist and literary circles of the time. The chaos of their Bohemian home . . . was regularly increased by the presence of their children and numerous friends, among whom were George Bernard Shaw and H.G. Wells.
Like Mrs. Barnstable, the mother of The Railway Children, Edith was a published writer, and a good one. This Puffin Classic (first published in 1906 and this edition republished in 1994) has several full pages of pen and ink sketches that are remarkable. The writing voice reminded me of C. S. Lewis and the children of the Pevensies. Since the Chronicles of Narnia weren’t published until the 1950s, I can’t help but wonder if Lewis read and liked Nesbit’s books. Perhaps some of the Railway Children adventures rubbed off on him.
The three children: Roberta (Bobbie) who turns twelve, Phyllis who seems to be around eight years old, and Peter who turns ten, have all sorts of adventures after their father mysteriously disappears and they have to move from London into the countryside. They are suddenly impoverished, so their mother spends long hours writing and selling stories in order to make ends meet. With all kinds of free time at Three Chimneys, their new cottage, the children make friends with the locals—particularly Perks the Porter and the Station Master. They also befriend a wealthy and wise old gentleman who regularly rides the train and helps them solve the mystery of their father.
Things I loved about this story:
The trains of course. Who doesn’t love the old fashioned “Harry Potter” trains winding their way through the English countryside.
The innocence of it all. The children were allowed to roam free and get into mischief, as I did as a kid. This was a time in which a man could kiss a young girl on the cheek in the spirit of friendship and gratitude and not be maligned for it.
The writing, so clear, detailed, and descriptive.
“There was a cake on the table covered with white sugar, with ‘Dear Bobbie’ on it in pink sweets, and there were buns and jam; but the nicest thing was that the big table was almost covered with flowers — wall-flowers were laid all round the tea-tray — there was a ring of forget-me-nots round each plate. The cake had a wreath of white lilac round it, and in the middle was something that looked like a pattern all done with single blooms of lilac or wallflower or laburnum” (73).
The strength of character in all whom we meet.
Frank discussions about the differences between boys and girls, and corrections made with regard to stereotypical statements. (The doctor is somewhat old fashioned.)
A film of this particular story was produced in 1970 and the trailer seems quite true to the book. Apparently, the children returned recently in another film: The Railway Children Return (2022). This one concerns a different group of children and is set in 1944, when the children are evacuated from Manchester to East Yorkshire because of the bombings.
Thank you, Miss Nesbit for bringing your stories to the world.
Please no. This might well be my favourite Dr. Ruth Galloway mystery. Book number fifteen in a succession that spans twenty years of the characters’ lives, also reads as if it may be the last. The way things land between Dr. Ruth and DCI Nelson both romantically and professionally, leads them on a new trajectory and Griffiths confirms, it is the last book “for now.” I can’t imagine what it’s like for her to say goodbye to these characters.
When the last remains of Emily Pickering, a young Cambridge archaeology student who disappeared in 2002, are discovered walled up in a café, Ruth is called in to investigate. She gets involved, though she’s busy at UNN, her own university, as the archaeology department for which she is the head is about to be closed down. Naturally DCI Nelson is involved as well as the charming DCI Clough, as it’s happened on his patch. Then our old friend, Cathbad, who nearly died in book fourteen and is suffering from long Covid disappears, leaving everyone devastated. The usual players are involved, along with Ruth’s new sister Zoe, and there’s even an unexpected and timely cameo by an old victim.
Ruth and Nelson struggle with the intricacies of their longtime relationship, given that it’s coming around to Father’s Day and he has two families: the first who seem to take precedence and the second, Ruth and their daughter Kate, who get Nelson time when he’s willing and able. I found myself wanting to bat them both upside the head a few times. Nelson can be thoughtless and Ruth indifferent. The combination leads to romantic stasis, which is why old David, her colleague at UNN archaeology thinks he has a shot.
I think what really draws me to this series besides the archaeological and mythological references are the small towns and cities in the north and east of England, some of which I’d like to visit because of Griffiths’s descriptions. Norfolk, where Ruth lives on the Saltmarsh and King’s Lynn which looks particularly charming, Lincoln and Durham; as well as Blackpool, a northwest coast town billed the UK’s favourite playground. Grimes Graves, a Neolithic flint mine is a creepy setting in this story. I’ll take a pass on climbing down one of those shafts, even though Griffiths’s made the decent herself.
One day, I’d like to begin at the beginning and reread the whole series in order. Why hasn’t this series been picked up for TV yet? Don’t you think it’s about time?
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