Eliza Borné

by Eliza Borné

John Grisham’s first novel for kids, Theodore Boone: Kid Lawyer, provided young readers with a fast-paced mystery, an introduction to courtroom practices and a cast of memorable characters.

In that story, we met 13-year-old Theo, a kid who is so obsessed with the law that he has his own office at home and helps friends with their legal problems—from figuring out how to get a dog out of the pound via animal court, to explaining custody law to a kid whose parents are going through a divorce. Theo’s legal interest comes naturally; he is the only child of two attorneys, and he longs to become a lawyer (or a judge) someday himself.

In Theo’s first adventure, the plot thickens when he discovers an eyewitness to a murder trial, and the newest installation, Theodore Boone: The Abduction, is no less thrilling. The excitement grips readers from the very first page, when Theo’s friend April is abducted in the middle of the night—and it’s up to Theo to figure out what happened. Who says a 13-year-old can’t investigate a crime better than the police can?

If they haven’t already, readers young and old will embrace the smart and spirited Theo Boone—and eagerly anticipate future entries in this delightful series from the king of legal thrillers.

John Grisham’s first novel for kids, Theodore Boone: Kid Lawyer, provided young readers with a fast-paced mystery, an introduction to courtroom practices and a cast of memorable characters.

In that story, we met 13-year-old Theo, a kid who is so obsessed with the law that…

Fiction, Mystery & Suspense, Suspense

Mystery & Suspense Fiction Suspense

Evanovich delivers a new series with spunk

Review by Eliza Borné

by Eliza Borné

What's it about?
Lizzy Tucker has just moved from New York City to Marblehead, Massachusetts, to claim her inheritance—her great-aunt Ophelia’s house, built in 1740—and take a job as chief cupcake baker at Dazzle’s Bakery in Salem. A few months after her move, though, life gets difficult. A man named Diesel informs Lizzy that she’s an Unmentionable, “a human with special abilities,” and she must help him track down the SALIGIA Stones—seven stones holding the power of the seven deadly sins. If the Stones fall into the wrong hands, there will be hell on earth. Complicating matters is Wulf, an evil guy also on the hunt for the Stones; the unpredictable Carl the monkey; and Lizzy’s budding attraction to Diesel. In Wicked Appetite, the first book in Janet Evanovich’s Unmentionables series, can Lizzy and Diesel get their hands on gluttony, the first of the sins?

Bestseller formula:
Easy-to-love heroine + sexy male leads + suspenseful plot + romantic tension

Favorite lines:
Diesel hauled himself up behind the wheel and went to work shoveling locks. I watched him for a while, wondering who on earth he was. When I found myself fantasizing him naked, I gave myself a mental slap and looked for something else to do. If I’d had my computer, I’d have googled SALIGIA Stones. In the absence of the computer, I called my mom.

Worth the hype?
Her sentences may not be the most beautifully-crafted I have ever read, but Janet Evanovich knows how to write a page-turner. Readers looking for a fun new series about an independent and slightly frazzled heroine will not be disappointed with Wicked Appetite.

Fiction

Fiction

An intriguing tale in four voices

Review by Eliza Borné

by Eliza Borné

Fans of Julia Glass have come to love her stories of family relationships and the complexity of life’s small moments, most notably in Three Junes, winner of the 2002 National Book Award. Both funny and heartbreaking, her fourth novel will leave readers examining their own choices and priorities.

The Widower’s Tale is the story of Percy Darling, a 70-year-old man who has lived for decades in the same house in the same Massachusetts town. He has been a widower for 32 years, since his wife drowned in the pond behind their home. Percy raised their daughters Clover and Trudy alone, never loving another woman.

When Percy allows the progressive preschool Elves & Fairies to take up residence in the barn in his backyard, life changes in unexpected ways. Clover, who has recently left her husband and children in New York, works at the school. Trudy’s son Robert, a student at Harvard, helps construct a tree house for the school along with Guatemalan lawn-care worker Celestino, an illegal immigrant. Most surprisingly, Percy falls in love. His lover is Sarah, a 51-year-old mother at the school.

One of the most remarkable aspects of Glass’ novel is that she writes convincingly from multiple points of view, classes and stations in life. The story is told in four alternating voices: Percy, who is at the center of the narrative; Robert; Celestino; and Ira, a young gay man who teaches at Elves & Fairies, and who is newly employed after a damaging experience at another preschool.

A major theme of The Widower’s Tale is that of “shifting shape,” a description Percy gives to his newly populated barn, but which also can apply to Glass’ characters. For many years satisfied with solitude, Percy starts to laugh and love more as he gets to know Sarah—although he does not lose his sarcastic sense of humor or his old-fashioned sensibility. Robert confronts the demands of friendship and the authenticity of his convictions when he becomes involved with a radical environmental action group, the DOGS (“Denounce Our Greedy Society”). Celestino acknowledges his unrooted life when he revisits his first love. Ira faces the cynic inside of him and tries to embrace what he has.

The reader, in turn, will embrace these wonderfully developed characters as they transform and adapt. Satisfying and touching, The Widower’s Tale is a novel to remember and cherish.

Children's & YA, Middle Grade

Children's & YA Middle Grade

Theodore Boone: Kid Lawyer

Review by Eliza Borné

by Eliza Borné

Theodore Boone: Kid Lawyer, John Grisham’s first book for middle-grade readers—and book one in a planned series—will no doubt have wide appeal. Precocious tween bookworms will admire Theodore Boone, a 13-year-old wannabe lawyer, and reluctant readers will keep flipping the pages due to an action-packed plot.

The only child of two busy attorneys, Theo’s passion in life is the law. He hangs out at the courthouse in his small city, and he knows every lawyer, judge, court clerk and cop in town. In a closet-sized office, he gives legal advice to classmates when their parents are filing for divorce or their pets are charged with violating the leash law. When a big murder case goes to trial, Theo organizes a field trip for his government class to observe the first day’s proceedings.

Though Theo longs to be either a “famous trial lawyer” or a “great judge,” he knows he’s in over his head when he finds out about a mysterious eyewitness to the murder. No one else is aware of the witness’ existence, and it’s up to Theo to convince him to come forward and tell the judge what he knows. Otherwise, a guilty murderer will walk free.

Young readers will be intrigued by the showdown of the trial, and as Grisham explains the role of a jury, a district attorney and a bailiff, they’ll learn about some of the players in our justice system. But don’t expect a neat ending: Grisham leaves readers hanging before the lawyers make their closing arguments at the murder trial, setting the stage for Theo’s next adventure.

Fiction, World Fiction

Fiction World Fiction

Allende’s survival song

Review by Eliza Borné

by Eliza Borné

As a storyteller, Isabel Allende is concerned with the most universal of themes: spirituality, motherhood, love. And in Island Beneath the Sea, her first work of fiction since 2006, she asks us to confront a fundamental need that, for most, is taken entirely for granted: freedom—its cost, worth and meaning.

The novel follows the life of Tété, a slave in the colony of Saint-Domingue (now Haiti) at the turn of the 19th century. Her master is Toulouse Valmorain, a sugarcane plantation owner. Throughout their inexorably intertwined lives, he depends on Tété to care for his ailing, insufferable wife; act as a mother to his son; and satisfy his sexual desires, a horrific chore that leads to their bastard child—the beautiful Rosette, whom Tété loves unconditionally, in spite of her painful genesis.

After the death of Valmorain’s wife, during the slave rebellion led by Toussaint Louverture, Tété saves her master’s life: She warns him that the plantation will be burned by rebels, and they flee to Cuba, then New Orleans. As a condition for her favor, Tété asks Valmorain to sign a paper granting freedom to her and Rosette. He agrees, although it takes years for the promise to be realized.

Despite the tragic nature of the story, there are uplifting moments in Island Beneath the Sea, especially when Allende writes about female self-reliance and the power of Tété’s faith in the loa of Voodoo. Also deeply affecting are her portrayal of the madness of racism and the warped societal codes it engenders.

Island Beneath the Sea is classic Allende—sensual, gripping and infused with a touch of magic. And though she lives through many heartbreaking moments, Tété is nothing if not a survivor and an inspiration. She will take her place alongside her many literary sisters: Blanca Trueba, Eliza Sommers and the long line of resilient female characters from Allende’s boundless imagination.

Fiction

Fiction

Martel ponders haunting moral questions

Review by Eliza Borné

by Eliza Borné

In an early scene from Beatrice and Virgil, Yann Martel’s follow-up to mega-hit Life of Pi, a novelist, Henry, is stumped by a simple question: “What’s your book about?”

Henry’s book—or rather, his “flip book,” which is comprised of a novel and a nonfiction essay printed, in relation to each other, upside down and back-to-back—is about the representation of the Holocaust in stories. He points out that earlier artists, such as George Orwell in Animal Farm, had “taken a vast, sprawling tragedy, had found its heart and had represented it in a nonliteral and compact way.” He wants to do the same with his flip book, but his publisher doesn’t buy it.

In a later scene, when Henry encounters a taxidermist who is also an aspiring playwright, he says, “Let me ask you a simple question: what’s your play about?” The taxidermist’s play is narrated by Beatrice and Virgil, a donkey and a howler monkey whose namesakes are Dante’s guides in the Divine Comedy. The play is about “the Horrors”—tragic events that have happened to the animals—and the way in which Beatrice and Virgil will come to talk about them. “To talk-about so that we might live-with—I presume that’s why we want to do this?” asks Virgil in Martel’s play-in-a-novel. “Yes,” responds Beatrice. “To remember and yet to go on living.” But are the Horrors the murders of animals, and the play a call for animal protection? Or could the story be an allegory for the Holocaust, which Henry comes to suspect?

Martel’s short novel has many wonders: vivid, creepy images of the taxidermist’s shop; a lovely—and very funny—description of a pear for someone who has never tasted one before; and other strange and seemingly unrelated scenes. Readers who make their way through the story are bound to echo Henry and his publisher: What is this book about? What is this play about?

There is no straightforward answer to these questions. Beatrice and Virgil is a book about artists facing judgment for their work, or suffering from creative block. It is about the historical treatment of certain events, and the individual responses to mass tragedy. It is about how animals—standing in for people—can cause a “reader’s disbelief. . . to lift, like a stage curtain.” It is about the way we view and treat animals.

Beatrice and Virgil ends in a series of moral questions that will leave the reader perplexed and sad; this novel is not a fantastic adventure story like Life of Pi, which ends on a happier note. But Martel’s latest work does something extraordinary, too: It causes the reader to contemplate serious ideas, and to think. Beatrice and Virgil will haunt you long after the final page.

In an early scene from Beatrice and Virgil, Yann Martel’s follow-up to mega-hit Life of Pi, a novelist, Henry, is stumped by a simple question: “What’s your book about?”

Henry’s book—or rather, his “flip book,” which is comprised of a novel and a nonfiction essay…

Fiction

Fiction

Secrets of a small town

Review by Eliza Borné

by Eliza Borné

Luke May, the protagonist of Safe from the Neighbors,provides readers with a strange dilemma: as a character, he is hardly worthy of the masterful language that swirls around him. Luke is a high school history teacher in Loring, Mississippi, and though he seems to like his work—even going so far as to create and offer a local history course—he is a man without ambition or distinction. He is, as he says, “Mr. History.” He bemoans his life of discussing other people’s actions, rather than leading boycotts, taking a stand or otherwise creating history himself. Recently empty-nested, Luke and his wife, a passionate poet, have a ho-hum sex life and a predictable existence.

When Maggie, a childhood friend, returns to Loring to teach French, Luke’s life changes drastically and quickly. In 1962, on the night that riots erupted at Ole Miss on account of James Meredith’s enrollment, Maggie’s father killed her mother. Luke longs to get to the bottom of this years-old mystery, and Maggie provides clues to the puzzle. A sophisticated and single woman, she also adds excitement to Luke’s flat daily life. They have an affair, and their passion escalates as Luke delves deeper into events from the past.

Although the reader may sympathize with Luke’s desires, he is not a particularly likeable character. But that’s fine, because Safe from the Neighbors is not a character- or plot-driven novel. It’s a novel of memorable words and phrases; of intense introspection; of images depicting the way we interact with people, both today and during the Civil Rights era of the Mississippi Delta. There are moments in Safe from the Neighbors—quiet observations about a gesture or a scene frozen in Luke’s memory—that will stick with the reader long after the book is finished.

The murder mystery and the tension created by Luke’s adultery will draw readers in to this novel. But it is Yarbrough’s beautifully crafted sentences that will keep them riveted to the end.

Fiction

Fiction

No candy-coated tell-all

Review by Eliza Borné

by Eliza Borné

When Alice Tatnall Ziplinsky takes a job at Zip’s Candies, she sets in motion the events that will dominate the rest of her life: her leadership in a dysfunctional family business; her defense of accidental chocolate-provoked racism; her husband’s liaisons in Madagascar. Who ever knew that candy could cause so much drama?

True Confections is told in the form of an affidavit, and there is no shortage of scandal in this darkly funny novel. When we meet Alice, the affidavit’s author, she is deep in the middle of a family feud. Her father-in-law, the CEO of Zip’s Candies, has left her a considerable share in the business, and the family isn’t happy about it. To defend her stake in Zip’s, Alice writes a history of the company, emphasizing her devotion to its success.

Alice’s account is filled with absurdities. Zip’s founder, Hungarian immigrant Eli Czaplinsky, calls his candies “Little Sammies,” “Tigermelts” and “Mumbo Jumbos”—all references to characters from Little Black Sambo, the racially charged children’s book. After Alice joins the company, she helps create the ill-fated “Bereavemint” line, which is marketed to funeral homes. Later, an employee spots the Virgin Mary in a chocolate sculpture created from drips off of a production nozzle, and Zip’s makes local headlines. If these scenes sound bizarre . . . well, they are. They’re also compulsively readable, punctuated by Alice’s wry commentary and behind-the-scenes details of the candy industry.

In past novels, Katharine Weber’s narrators have communicated through a letter and a diary; in True Confections, Alice speaks through a first-person legal document. It’s an unusual medium, but one that succeeds—we like and trust Alice, our guide, but we suspect that her tale is a little tall. By the end of the novel, it doesn’t really matter whether Alice is telling the truth; her storytelling ability trumps our disbelief. Plus, “Candy makes people happy,” as her father-in-law would often say. It turns out that books about candy do, too.

Mystery & Suspense, Suspense

Mystery & Suspense Suspense

Scarpetta is back in NYC

Review by Eliza Borné

by Eliza Borné

Reading The Scarpetta Factor, Patricia Cornwell’s 17th novel about medical examiner Kay Scarpetta and her gang of detectives and forensic criminologists, is not unlike taking a 500-page romp on a Tilt-a-Whirl.

Diehard Cornwell fans already know the drill, but for the uninitiated: Expect plot twists to snowball at a rate of tricky-to-solve murders, bomb threats and mistaken identities popping up every few pages (with some mafia involvement thrown in, too). In other words, there’s no predicting what will happen to Scarpetta over the course of the novel. The plot loops, spins and changes directions until the very end.

In this installment, Scarpetta is working in New York City to crack the murders of high profile financial advisor Hannah Starr and beautiful waitress Toni Darien—all while serving as senior forensic analyst for CNN’s (fictitious) “The Crispin Report.” Her husband, forensic psychiatrist Benton Wesley, is caught up in the case of a patient who may (or may not) be connected to Scarpetta’s murders. Rounding out the crew are NYPD detective Pete Marino, who shares a sticky past with Scarpetta, and Lucy Farinelli, Scarpetta’s computer investigator niece.

Scarpetta is serious about her work. “The body doesn’t lie,” she thinks during an argument about the timeline of a murder. “Don’t try to force the evidence to fit the crime.” When the crime starts to directly involve Scarpetta—a mysterious package shows up at her apartment; Lucy’s past involves some dangerous liaisons—the plot gets complicated as we fear for our heroine’s life.

Although Cornwell’s prose can be corny and over-dramatic (“She was volatile, couldn’t settle down, and she hated it, but hating something didn’t make it go away . . .”), The Scarpetta Factor is still a rip-roaring read, in no small part because of explicit details and forensic jargon (perhaps aided by Cornwell’s six years as a writer and computer analyst at Chief Medical Examiner’s office in Richmond, Virginia).

The point of view alternates between the main characters. Because of these shifts and the multiple details to resolve, the plot can drag; just when we think we’ll get some resolution—bam!—the narrator changes and 200 pages later we’re still wondering what’s going to happen.

Although frustrating, this technique keeps us hooked and biting nails until the end, the objective of any good crime novel.

In her childhood, Eliza Borné read a Nancy Drew book a day. She can whip through a “Scarpetta” book in about the same amount of time.

Diehard Cornwell fans already know the drill, but for the uninitiated: Expect plot twists to…

Memoir

Memoir

Secrets from the upper crust

Review by Eliza Borné

by Eliza Borné

The economy has tanked, unemployment’s up and we’ve all got better things to do than read about the woes and ruminations of prep school-educated rich folks, right?

Not if Tad Friend has anything to say about it.

In Cheerful Money: Me, My Family, and the Last Days of Wasp Splendor, Friend, a staff writer at The New Yorker, writes a multi-generational portrait of his family, an impressive set of Wasps whose ancestors include a signer of the Declaration of Independence. Clearly an expert on the breed, Friend sprinkles hilarious aphorisms throughout the text: “Wasps name their dogs after liquor and their cars after dogs and their children after their ancestors”; “Wasps emerge from the womb wrinkly and cautious, already vice presidents, already fifty-two.”

Through it all, Friend falls in (and out) of love—multiple times—and deals with the knowledge that when his kids are grown, they won’t be Wasps . . . the family money will be gone. The memoir is most engaging when he keeps closest to home; the scenes with Friend’s parents are touching and poignant.

At the beginning of the book, Friend writes, “I am a Wasp because I harbored a feeling of disconnection from my parents, as they had from their parents, and their parents had from their parents.” Cheerful Money is Friend’s funny and enlightening way of piecing together that disconnect.

Eliza Borné recently graduated from Wellesley (and is not a Wasp).

RELATED CONTENT

An excerpt from Cheerful Money:

When I graduated from Shipley, a small prep school in Bryn Mawr, my father’s mother, Grandma Jess, wrote to congratulate me on my academic record: “A truly tremendous achievement — but then I could expect nothing less due to your marvelous background — Robinson, Pierson, Holton, Friend!” I remember scowling at her airy blue script, noting the point — after the first dash — where the compliment turned into a eugenic claim. As my grandparents happened to constitute a Wasp compass, the way ahead was marked in all directions: I could proceed as a Robinson like Grandma Tim’s family (loquacious, madcap, sometimes unhinged); a Pierson like Grandpa John’s family (bristling with brains); a Holton like Grandma Jess’s family (restless, haughty show ponies); or a Friend like Grandpa Ted’s family (moneyed, clubbable, and timid).

I believed, then, that my family was not my fate. I believed my character had been formed by charged moments and impressions — the drift of snow, the peal of church bells, the torrent of light cascading through the elms out front into our sunporch. Though my parents gave me love and learning and all the comforts, I believed I could go it alone. My grandparents were distant constellations, and as they wheeled across the sky I felt unshadowed by their marriages, their affairs, their remarriages, or their quarrels. On the question of how to pronounce “tomato,” for instance, the family was split. On my father’s side, the Friends and Holtons unselfconsciously said “tomayto.” On my mother’s, the Robinsons were staunchly in the Anglophile “tomahto” camp, while the Piersons, on the even more superior view that “tomahto” was pretentious, were ardently pro-“tomayto.” At the family beach house on Long Island, my great-uncle Wilson Pierson would rebuke my mother, a Robinson in such matters, if she asked for a “tomahto.” “Would you like some potahtoes with that?” he’d say.

Chapter 1 excerpt from CHEERFUL MONEY: Me, My Family, and the Last Days of Wasp Splendor by Tad Friend (Little, Brown and Company, hardcover, also available in e-book; pub date: 9/21/09).

The economy has tanked, unemployment’s up and we’ve all got better things to do than read about the woes and ruminations of prep school-educated rich folks, right?

Not if Tad Friend has anything to say about it.

In Cheerful Money: Me, My Family, and the Last Days…

Fiction, Women's Fiction

Fiction Women's Fiction

Grief and awakening on Mt. Kenya

Review by Eliza Borné

by Eliza Borné

There comes a point in Anita Shreve’s latest novel, A Change in Altitude, when we start to wonder when the plagues are coming—the succession of unfortunate events that befall the protagonist are that bad. It would ruin the plot to describe exactly what she must withstand, but suffice it to say that there is death, looting, political corruption and strands of adultery. (Not to mention fire ants and acute mountain sickness.)

It is a testament to Shreve’s storytelling that this soap opera of disaster does not come off sounding contrived. In fact, prepare to cancel all your appointments as you race through this dramatic saga set during Kenya in the late 1970s.

Americans Margaret and Patrick are in Kenya for Patrick’s work; a physician, he is researching equatorial diseases at Nairobi Hospital and offering free clinics around the country. When the novel starts, the couple has been married for five months. Margaret, a 28-year-old photographer, is eager to find something to do—something to be passionate about—while her husband works at the hospital. She is eventually hired as a freelance photographer for the Kenya Morning Tribune (which, in a moment of rather visceral foreshadowing, is first introduced to us as the blood-soaked wrapper of dinner’s horsemeat.)

With two other couples, Margaret and Patrick go on a climbing expedition to Mount Kenya early after their arrival to Africa. The group is mismatched in terms of climbing experience and marital happiness, and one of the climbing party’s rage and desire to show off causes a terrible accident. Due to a series of unintentionally hurtful actions, Margaret feels responsible. Guilt haunts her for the remainder of the novel, and her marriage with Patrick becomes fragile and pained. It becomes a tremendous effort for them to “break through the clot that was thickening just below the surface of their civility and pleasantries.”

Shreve, whose novel The Pilot’s Wife was a selection of Oprah’s Book Club, can get cheesy with her flowery prose. (“He took her hand. He often took Margaret’s hand, in public as well as in private. It meant, I am suddenly thinking of you.”) This time, we can forgive Shreve the melodrama because the story is so enthralling.

It is easy to become invested in these characters. Margaret is a complex individual—somewhere between dutiful wife and adventuresome free spirit. We don’t know whether to blame her or to sympathize as she soul searches in the aftermath of the accident. Her husband is imperfect, too, but we understand his difficulty with trusting Margaret.

A Change in Altitude is not the first novel Shreve has set in Africa; The Last Time They Met, published in 2001, contains scenes in Kenya. It is no wonder that Shreve is drawn to Africa as a location. She spent three years working as a journalist at an African magazine in Nairobi, and her descriptions portray her knowledge of the setting. References to Karen Blixon and Denys Finch-Hatton (of Out of Africa fame) can feel a bit trite, but descriptions of beautiful panoramas or a Masai ceremony are detailed and rich. Shreve also touches on post-Mau Mau Rebellion politics, her discomfort with African servants and the subjugation of women.

The image of Margaret scaling a mountain—literally, and figuratively as she attempts to save her marriage—bookends the plot of Shreve’s latest. It is a difficult climb in a stunning locale, and readers will be eager to learn if she successfully scales the peak.

Eliza Borné writes from Nashville. The highest “mountain” she has ever climbed was in a state park in Arkansas.

Mystery & Suspense, Suspense

Mystery & Suspense Suspense

Titillating clues ease the wait for ‘The Lost Symbol’

Review by Eliza Borné

by Eliza Borné

The website of The Lost Symbol offers this teaser: “9.15.09: All Will Be Revealed.” Until that date, we can only rely on the publisher to keep us informed with hints about Dan Brown’s long-anticipated follow-up to The Da Vinci Code, in the form of “cryptic tweets” and Facebook messages.

Virtually no one knows the specifics of The Lost Symbol—the team at Random House’s Doubleday imprint is relying on Brown’s already-loyal following, rather than advance praise from reviewers, to create buzz for the new thriller. Thus, the books are on lockdown until September 15. With an initial print run of 5 million copies, the book will represent the largest first printing in the history of Random House—and the company hopes it will be a publishing sensation, especially after several years of delayed release dates. Considering that The Da Vinci Code has sold 81 million copies worldwide, and its movie counterpart made $750 million, the odds are good that The Lost Symbol will land a long-term spot at the top of bestseller lists.

A little guesswork à la symbologist Robert Langdon can give us some clues as to the plot of The Lost Symbol, promised by Sonny Mehta, Editor-in-Chief of Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, to be “a brilliant and compelling thriller.”

From the publisher, we know that the novel will portray 12 hours of Langdon’s life in Washington, D.C., and the plot will revolve around the Freemasons, an organization that Brown has called the “oldest fraternity in history.”

We also know that Brown’s original title for the book was “The Solomon Key.” The Key of Solomon is an important symbol in Freemason rituals. For those who want to learn more before The Lost Symbol arrives in bookstores, check out Cracking the Freemason’s Code : The Truth about Solomon’s Key and the Brotherhood by Robert D.L. Cooper, a Scottish Freemason and historian who provides an inside look at this secretive organization.

The “cryptic tweets” from the Twitter page of The Lost Symbol are nothing if not . . . cryptic. These short messages include questions and puzzling clues. Examples include the query “How could a precious stone burn 20 years of Isaac’s research?” and a link to an article about Robert Hanssen, a double agent who spied on the FBI for the Soviet Union and Russia. One tweet promised to reveal Langdon’s next adversary once Dan Brown’s Facebook page reaches 100,000 fans. (At press time, there were just over 60,000.)

The Facebook page for The Lost Symbol offers equally baffling tidbits, such as a link to an article about ancient pyramids with the comment that “the pyramid is a highly celebrated symbol in Freemasonry.”

And then there is the novel’s cover. The American version features the Capitol building in Washington, D.C., lit up against the background of a large red wax seal. Embedded in the wax is an unidentifiable symbol. The U.K. and Australian cover differs slightly in that the Capitol appears below a Masonic key. There have been many theories tying the Freemasons to our nation’s capital—including speculation that the streets of Washington, D.C., were planned to physically mirror important Masonic symbols. It’s also interesting to note that one of the most famous Freemasons is none other than George Washington, for whom the capital city is named.

Stephen Rubin, a former president of Doubleday Broadway Publishing Group, has implied that there is special significance behind the publication date of The Lost Symbol: “Dan Brown has a very specific release date for the publication of his new book, and when the book is published, his readers will see why.”

The Key of Solomon, pyramids, important dates and an FBI spy—all in a 12-hour period of time? All in a 528-page novel? Until September 15, we can only guess whether these clues make direct references to events in the novel, or simply allude to greater themes. According to Jason Kaufman, Brown’s editor, the novel will show us “an unseen world of mysticism, secret societies and hidden locations, with a stunning twist that long predates America.”

Mehta insists that Brown’s novel is “well worth the wait.” In the meantime, we can download The Lost Symbol’s countdown widget online, re-read The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons and brush up on Freemason conspiracy theories. And get lots of sleep. For millions of booklovers, the evening of Tuesday, September 15, is shaping up to be an all-nighter.

Fiction, Short Stories

Fiction Short Stories

Grisham’s quirky short fiction debut

Review by Eliza Borné

by Eliza Borné

The king of the blockbuster courtroom thriller has succeeded at stepping into a new genre—short fiction—and created seven rich and enticing narratives.

In Ford County, John Grisham’s first collection of stories, we meet a weird and endearing group of misfits with one thing in common: each has lived in Clanton, the seat of fictional Ford County, Mississippi. There’s Sidney, a separated husband whose only solace comes in breaking the town’s casino; Gilbert, who enjoys exposing mistreatment at nursing homes; and Raymond, an inmate on death row who’s written a 200-page autobiography. We are privy to each of their twisted desires, and although we may not agree with all of these protagonists, we can sympathize with their individual plights: to escape from a dull existence; to give life a jolt; or, sometimes, just to survive.

Grisham’s prose is smooth and controlled as he deftly moves between narrators and storylines, and his skilled storytelling makes even the wackier scenes believable. One of Ford County’s greatest assets is its abundant but understated humor. When Calvin, a young virgin, hits a strip joint in Memphis en route to donating blood, the omniscient narrator comments dryly: “It was a life-changing experience. Calvin would never be the same.”

Predictably—and thankfully, since it’s what the author does best—there is no dearth of lawyers in this collection. Grisham’s first novel, A Time to Kill, was also set in Clanton, where “a town of ten thousand people provided enough conflict to support fifty-one lawyers.” Readers will enjoy getting sucked into this world of small-town corruption and Sonic drive-ins, kind-hearted neighbors and sleazy businessmen. And although there’s little doubt that Grisham will return to the thrillers that made him famous, here’s hoping that Ford County is the precursor of many collections to come.

The king of the blockbuster courtroom thriller has succeeded at stepping into a new genre—short fiction—and created seven rich and enticing narratives.

In Ford County, John Grisham’s first collection of stories, we meet a weird and endearing group of misfits with one thing in…

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Eliza Borné

A smart and spirited young hero

Evanovich delivers a new series with spunk

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