Dear readers, One of my most irritating qualities — by which I mean, it drives even me crazy — is my inability to enjoy period pieces. In theory, I love historical fiction; I love adaptation, I love seeing a new film shot in lamplight and draped in yards of grubby linsey-woolsie. I check out almost everything people mention. But in reality, this usually translates to much muttering, along the lines of “They didn’t say ‘OK’ until the 1830s!” or “Cafe Sabarsky didn’t even open until I was in high school!” or “She would never have been left with him unchaperoned!” Usually I keep this inside, where it slowly poisons me. I don’t enjoy destroying other people’s fun. But can you imagine what a pleasure it is for a pedant like me to find a book that creates a safe consistent world, sticks it with unfussy competence and, in the process, provides the greatest luxury — that of relaxation? Two is an absolute bonanza. —Sadie “Curtain Call,” by Anthony QuinnFiction, 2015
I cannot recommend “Curtain Call” highly enough. As a story, as a mystery, as a visit to between-the-wars London. Basically, drop everything you’re doing and read it. The book came to me in a roundabout way, and I won’t lie: There were two early hiccups. Would they really have been ordering “creme brulee” at Rules, not “burnt cream” or “Trinity Cream”? (Contemporary menus proved inconclusive.) For that matter, would a character in the 1930s use the rather modern formulation of “getting close to” a romantic partner? But I overcame these early challenges to the screaming nag in my head, and I’m so glad: A truly great read awaited. We meet Nina Land, a West End actress, as she’s embarking on an affair with a married society portraitist. During one of their assignations, Nina catches sight of the “hat pin killer” who’s terrorizing London’s young women. While wealthy patrons flirt with fascism and society teeters on the brink of moral self-annihilation, Nina uses her unusual position, infallible instincts, acting chops and knowledge of the West End’s underworld to team up with an acidic critic and a mysterious escort to bring the twisty, creepy, shocking crime wave to an end. This is a novel that would work as a character study alone — Quinn is that good — but it also happens to be a terrifically satisfying whodunit. I have ordered all of this author’s works; watch this space. Read if you like: P.D. James’s “Dalgliesh” mysteries; the film “Being Julia”; “The End of the Affair,” by Graham Greene. “Hild,” by Nicola GriffithFiction, 2013
A colleague lent this to me and I’m so glad she did. First because I’m no medievalist, so a book set in this period allows me to dial down my weird, self-imposed vigilance for anachronism. But mostly because Griffith’s novel about the young life of Saint Hilda of Whitby is so deft and moving, the best of what historical fiction can be. When we meet the future saint, Hild is merely a young Anglo-Saxon woman living in seventh-century Britain — albeit one with a power of sight that’s a source of both respect and fear for those around her. Pleasurable though this is, it is not “light” reading. Griffith is world-building (or at least world-reconstructing), and the time you spend to understand the alliances and pressures, the evolution of the church and the complexities of power is all necessary to the full immersion that is the book’s greatest gift. Yes, the publisher provides a handy glossary for the unfamiliar terminology, but you quickly find yourself confident enough in the author’s powers that you assume she knows what she’s doing. Read if you like: “The Name of the Rose,” by Umberto Eco; “Pillars of the Earth,” by Ken Follett; “Redwall,” by Brian Jacques. We hope you’ve enjoyed this newsletter, which is made possible through subscriber support. Subscribe to The New York Times. Friendly reminder: Check your local library for books! Many libraries allow you to reserve copies online. Like this email? Sign-up here or forward it to your friends. Have a suggestion or two on how we can improve it? Let us know at books@nytimes.com. Plunge further into books at The New York Times or our reading recommendations.
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