Davis, Lindsey - Shadows in Bronze

Second of the Marcus Didius Falco mysteries.

I read this book over several weeks, and for the life of me, I can't tell you what the plot is. I think this is why I don't do well with mysteries, just maybe. Anyhow, somehow Falco gets caught up in a case of mistaken identities and dead bodies, and then he ends up on a road trip to somewhere for a reason that I can't remember.

I would like to note that this probably isn't because Davis doesn't plot well. It's because I do not particularly care about mystery plots and as such, do not pay much attention to what's going on unless absolutely necessary.

And yet, I keep reading these and will probably pick up the third book! This is because I really love the characters, and, most importantly, I adore Falco. He's the first-person narrator for all the books (?), and he's irreverent and attempts to be sarcastic and aloof, usually very unsuccessfully. He has a giant family which he grouses about; one of his sisters sends her son along not for Falco to watch over, but so that Falco has someone to watch over him.

Senator's daughter Helena Justina also features prominently, and while I probably should be annoyed by them getting together and breaking apart and getting together and breaking apart, I'm not, because Falco is so obviously in love and Helena Justina is so wonderfully herself.

There's a plot twist involving the two that made me grit my teeth a little, but really, it isn't handled with a heavy hand, which makes all the difference.

Fun and fast, and really, I just love the narrative voice so much.

Links:
My review of The Silver Pigs, the first book of the series

Walker, Alice - In Search of Our Mothers' Gardens

I had tried to read this around 2003, but got stuck on Alice Walker's insistence on mentioning "womanism" as a thing somewhat separate from feminism, and as a black thing at that.

I picked it up again last week to alleviate some of the anger I was still feeling about the whole cultural appropriation debate stuff. This time, instead of feeling left out or excluded, I found so much comfort in her knowledge that often feminism fails to address racial issues (and class issues, but that's a whole 'nother post). It isn't that the failures of feminism comfort me; they don't. Feminism is one of the axes of my existence, and while I think the Platonic version would address race and class, in practice, it often doesn't. And I find myself torn between feminism and anti-racism, both of which are very important to me, and that's a very uncomfortable place to be.

It feels as though Alice Walker wrote many of these essays about that divide, specifically to address that divide, to say: This isn't fair. This isn't right. We deserve more. We shouldn't be forced to choose.

There's such a sense of strength in these essays, even when Walker's writing about being insulted by all sorts of people for being black, for being female, for being herself. She feels centered and fully aware of herself; she writes about moments of joy as well as moments of pain, and her anger comes from injustice. From this book, I would love to just sit down and talk with her. She finds strength even in the midst of suicidal despair.

I can't even start to say how much I loved this, and I suspect many of these essays will be reread through the years and grow to be close friends.