Author Chara Zymara reads, selects, and recommends books
This summer—I’m not sure how it came about—I find myself facing many reading projects: the most delightful challenges one could face in the heat of summer.
But before I get to those, I must mention the very first of my summer reads, which was none other than Agatha Christie’s *Murder in the Sun*. A delightful mystery novel set in Devon, England, at a tourist resort isolated on a small island. Hercule Poirot is called upon to solve yet another murder, this time that of the attractive Arlena Marshall. Agatha Christie always manages to captivate me with her settings, her characters, and her dialogue, although, having now read quite a few of her books, I’ve noticed a recurring pattern in the way she resolves her mysteries. She always has an ace up her sleeve, which she reveals toward the end and overturns any logical assumptions the reader may have made.
ΣΧΕΤΙΚΑ ΑΡΘΡΑ
The “Dangerous Woman” Who Shaped Virginia Woolf’s Life and Work
I know what you read this summer
Back to the open-ended plots. After *Crime Under the Sun*, I started reading *The City and Its Uncertain Walls* by Haruki Murakami, an author who has a reputation for being either adored or hated by readers. I was introduced to him through his best-selling novel, *Norwegian Wood*, which made me particularly fond of him. His new book, with a much more pronounced element of fantasy, failed to win me over. Perhaps it’s because of its dominant fantasy element, which generally doesn’t excite me. On the other hand, I notice elements in his writing that “pull me out” of the story’s universe, causing me to focus on the technical aspects rather than the story itself—something that disappoints me in a book. Even so, though, it’s not as if I’ve set it aside entirely. I plan to give it a second chance once I’ve “wrapped up” my other ongoing reads, with no sense of obligation to finish it if it doesn’t win me back.
The most enjoyable of all these projects—which I would have finished days ago if I hadn’t forced myself not to—is called *Whistler* by Ann Patchett. I’m saving it for my vacation, even though I’ve already read the first hundred pages. Patchett, one of my favorite authors, in her latest novel—which I’m reading in English because it hasn’t been translated into Greek yet— tells the moving story of Daphne, a woman who reconnects with her former stepfather after about four decades. The two are bound by a shared memory and the deep affection they harbor for one another. Dialogues filled with humor and what English speakers call “wit,” and a narrative that seems simple but manages to draw you into a cohesive and utterly believable world. It’s as if Pachett, with a spotlight in hand, were illuminating the simplest, most everyday moments of the people around her exactly as they happen.
My other ongoing project involves the Italian author Gianni Zola, whom I haven’t had the chance to read again. I’m being introduced to him through his book *The Notebook Thief*, a story about a teenage boy, the son of a pig farmer in southern Italy during the Mussolini era, whose daily life is turned upside down by the arrival of Jews in the village. I’m really enjoying it, and it’s just a matter of time before I finish it—probably during my vacation. In general, the books I’ve read by young Italian authors from the south have pleasantly surprised me, and besides, my favorite Italian author—also from the south—is Elena Ferrante.
The next book I plan to read this summer, once I’ve finished the books I currently have on the go, is *Rachel’s Holiday* by Marian Keyes. It tells the story of Rachel, who checks herself into a drug rehab clinic. It sounds heavy, but, as the title suggests, it’s written with plenty of dark humor—my favorite kind.
