Ever since reading and enjoying Tea Cooper's The Woman in the Green Dress, I've wanted to read more by the author. I was thrilled to receive an e-ARC of her newest, The Fossil Hunter, which has already been released in Australia but doesn't come out in the U.S. until August. Told in a dual-timeline format, the novel features likable characters, a plotline that's compelling (although slow), and an atmospheric setting. I'm not into fossils, so I found that part of the story a little dull. I also wasn't wild about P.J.'s romance with Sam, since I didn't feel any sparks between them and I thought him irritating in his irresponsibility and impulsiveness. Other than that, though, The Fossil Hunter kept me interested enough to keep turning pages. I didn't enjoy it nearly as much as I did The Woman in the Green Dress, but I liked it overall.

(Readalikes:  Hm, I can't think of anything. Can you?)

Grade:

When Margot meets Georg Richwalder, a handsome German naval officer, she can't deny the attraction she feels toward him.  Offering to help him translate important documents for the conference is a way to not only get closer to him, but also to alleviate her boredom and do something valuable for a change.  Working so closely with Captain Richwalder puts her in an awkward position—and not just because she's engaged to another man.  Paris is filled with would-be saboteurs who would do anything to get their hands on the papers to which Margot has access.  Even threaten her father.  

"Dead and still in the world was worse than dead and in the ground.  Dead in the ground at least gave you the hope of heaven" (171).

The Cove by Ron Rash is another one of those books that's proving too difficult for me to describe in my own words.  I'll give you the jacket copy instead, since it does a beautiful job:

Deep in the rugged Appalachians of North Carolina lies the cove, a dark, forbidding place where spirits and fetches wander, and even the light fears to travel.  Or so the townsfolk of Mars Hill believe—just as they know that Laurel Shelton, the lonely young woman who lives within its shadows, is a witch.  Alone except for her brother, Hank, newly returned from the trenches in France, she aches for her life to begin.

Then it happens—a stranger appears, carrying nothing but a beautiful silver flute and a note explaining that his name is Walter, he is mute, and is bound for New York.  Laurel finds him in the woods, nearly stung to death by yellow jackets, and nurses him back to health.  As the days pass, Walter slips easily into life in the cove and into Laurel's heart, bringing her the only real happiness she has ever known.

But Walter harbors a secret that could destroy everything—and danger is closer than they know.  Though the war in Europe is near its end, patriotic fervor flourishes thanks to the likes of Chauncey Feith, an ambitious young army recruiter who stokes fear and outrage throughout the county.  In a time of uncertainty, when fear and ignorance reign, Laurel and Walter will discover that love may not be enough to protect them.   

As you can probably surmise just by looking at its cover, The Cove tells a tale that's as haunting as it is heartbreaking.  Rash brings his characters and setting to such vivid life that the reader can't help feeling a part of them.  Laurel's about as sympathetic as she can possibly be—I wanted her to find happiness just as much as she did.  Her story starts out slowly, so slowly I almost put the book down.  It was Rash's lush, lyrical storytelling that kept me reading, all the way to the novel's inevitable, but still affecting, end.  All in all, I didn't love The Cove.  Still, it's worth the read, if only to experience the deft loveliness of the author's prose.

(Readalikes:  Reminded me a little of Summer of My German Soldier by Bette Greene and Traitor by Gudrun Pausewang)

Grade:  B-

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  PG-13 for language (no F-bombs), violence and some sexual content

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find

In the Spring of 1918, the Spanish flu epidemic spreads, killing millions of soldiers and civilians across the globe.  Overwhelmed by the constant flow of wounded soldiers coming from the French front, battlefield nurse Bess Crawford must now contend with hundreds of influenza patients as well.

However, war and disease are not the only killers to strike.  Bess discovers, concealed among the dead waiting for burial, the body of an officer who has been murdered.  Though she is devoted to all her patients, this soldier's death touches her deeply.  Not only did the man serve in her father's former regiment, he was also a family friend.

Before she can report the terrible news, Bess falls ill, the latest victim of the flu.  By the time she recovers, the murdered officer has been buried, and the only other person who saw the body has hanged himself.  Or did he?

Working her father's connections in the military, Bess begins to piece together what little evidence she can find to unmask the elusive killer and see justice served.  But she must be as vigilant as she is tenacious.  With a determined killer on her heels, each move Bess makes could be her last.

If you've read earlier books in the Bess Crawford series by Charles Todd, An Unmarked Grave will feel very familiar to you.  It follows the formula established in the first three novels—the headstrong Bess encounters a dead body, then heads to England to investigate the murder, a process which involves poking her nose into secrets the families of the dead would rather keep buried.  Her digging, of course, makes her a popular target for killers of all stripes.  Yes, it's formulaic, but I'm still enjoying this series.  The capable, no-nonsense Bess makes a noble heroine, even if she isn't the warmest gal on the block.  Her escapades are intriguing without being lurid, which makes them clean, compelling reads.  I am getting a little irritated with Bess' stale personal life, however and would really like to see the dashing Simon Brandon make a move, already!  A little originality in plot would also be appreciated by this reader.  Overall, though, I'm entertained by this smart, sanitized series.     

Fans of historical fiction (especially books like Nancy Turner's These Is My Words) will find Hattie Big Sky by Kirby Larson as warm and familiar as an old quilt. It's certainly not the first book to feature a strong woman pioneer striking out west on her own. Still, Larson brings a fresh, young voice as well as a vibrant setting to the table. The result? Hattie Big Sky offers the same comforting patchwork, but with a unique pattern and some bright, new colors. The combination wins a Blue Ribbon in my book.
The year is 1917. Headlines across the world scream news of war. On the homefront, women and girls are busily knitting socks for the soldiers, pouring out their hearts in letters and praying for the boys' swift return. For 16-year-old Hattie Inez Brooks, the war is just another bump in her hardscrabble life. After her parents' death, Hattie bounced around from relative to relative, finally landing in Arlington, Iowa, where she now lives under the ever-critical eye of Aunt Ivy. For "Hattie Here-and-There" home is as elusive as faraway France, where the war has dumped her good friend Charlie (he's only a friend, as everyone knows he's sweet on Mildred Powell). She writes him letters, but it's just not the same as practicing pitching and collecting wishing stones with her buddy.
So, when Hattie receives a posthumous letter from her mysterious Uncle Chester, leaving her "my claim and the house and its contents, as well as one steadfast horse named Plug and a contemptible cow known as Violet" (9), she jumps at the chance to start a new life. Despite a lack of "agricultural expertise," (10) Hattie boards a train headed for Wolf Point, Montana. From the grimy windows of the train, she can see only an "endless stretch of snow" (14). Her first steps on the frozen ground are not encouraging; when she sees Uncle Chester's house, she realizes "House was a Charlie term - kind and generous" (37). The structure is scarcely more than a slapped-together shed. With characteristic determination, Hattie sets about making the place her own. According to homesteading law, she has 10 months to "prove up" her claim by fencing her land and cultivating crops. It's a daunting task, but she means to do it.
Salvation comes in the form of Hattie's neighbors. She quickly becomes attached to the Muellers, a German-American family that helps her through all manner of difficulties. She also has the olfactory-challenged Rooster Jim, prairie nurse Leafie, and the disarmingly handsome Traft Martin, whose attentions may be more curse than blessing. With neighborly support and hard work, Hattie wrestles obstinate farm animals; fences her property; learns to cook; and defends her claim with pride. Hard times do not pass her by, of course. Her friendship with the Muellers brings her heat from the Dawson County Council of Defense, a group of ranchers bent on persecuting anyone of German descent. As if that wasn't bad enough, a bout of Spanish influenza steals lives, and the weather brings constant worries. If Hattie's crops don't flourish, she will lose her claim. As she battles the land to prove her claim, she must also fight to save the only real home she has ever known.
Montana's omnipresence in the novel makes it as much a character as anyone else, but Hattie Big Sky really isn't about the land. Sure, it's an adventure story, with enough coyote encounters, wild horse stampedes, tough cowboys and dangerous rabble rousers to keep the reader turning pages, but at its heart it's a story about home, family and identity. The most important transformation in the book has nothing to do with the landscape, and everything to do with Hattie herself. As she progresses from "Hattie-Here-and-There" to "Wolf Point Hattie Homesteader" to "Hattie Big Sky," she learns the truths that will make her whole. Whether or not she proves up her claim (and I'm not going to give you any hint as to how the story ends), Hattie discovers what's really important: home, family and "proving up on my life" (146).
There were a few things I wanted out of this book that it didn't deliver (namely, more of a backstory for Hattie and answers to Uncle Chester's mysteries), but overall, it was well-written and engaging. Although the period details seemed contrived at times, I enjoyed reading about Montana in the early 1900s. Perhaps because my father spent his boyhood in Montana (only 20-some years after this novel is set), and I grew up hearing stories about his family's experience there, this story really rang true to me. The plot isn't all that unique, but Hattie Big Sky is a book that's as authentic as the land it celebrates, as vibrant as its one constant - that big old Montana sky.
Grade: A