Daughters Galore

And then there was the matter of skin. When I look back on it now, when I look back on the girl on the dusty road carrying a newborn baby and a bucket, I now realize I knew nothing about skin. Skin touched me only lightly within Cradock House. It was only beyond its walls that the world divided itself so strictly between black and white, with coloured falling awkwardly in between. Yet I thought I understood those grades of colour. I thought I could even manage under the new word called apartheid. Only once I came to live across the river did I realize I was wrong.

In 1919, gentle Cathleen Moore left Ireland to sail for South Africa, where she was to marry her fiancé, Edward Harrington, whom she had not seen for five years. Their home was to be in the Karoo, a semi-desert territory far from the coast. Before long, the family had grown to include Miss Rosemary and young Master Phil. Miriam was their housemaid, and in 1930 she gave birth to a little girl named Ada, after Madam's sister in Ireland. She was welcomed into the household. The Housemaid's Daughter, by Barbara Mutch, is the story of Ada.

From the beginning, Ada felt like part of the family. She helped her mother with her work around the house––cleaning, ironing and polishing––but, at the same time, Cathleen quietly began to teach her to read, and because Cathleen's daughter Rosemary showed no interest, Cathleen also began to teach Ada to play the piano. There are strict conventions about how Mistress and maids are to interact, but Cathleen gets around most of them. Subtly, Cathleen opens her heart to Ada, as she accidentally-on-purpose leaves her journal out for Ada to read and learn from.

Ada grows up alone; isolated from exposure to other children like her. And so she has no real sense of what the world is like.  She is naïve, innocent and at the same time strong and resilient, as she struggles to understand things. She tries to get a grip on wars, which can leave some wounds only on the inside, as happened with Master Phil in North Africa in World War II. She struggles to understand the new fears of apartheid, which strangle the area in the 1950s, and finally she has to come to grips with a terrible thing that happened to her that has her in fear for her life and those of people she cares about.

What is at the root of this fear came down from the mixing of blood within a single family. It had terrible power, this difference in skin between mother and child. It became another kind of war; one that forced disputes among people, divided old friends and turned strangers into enemies. She also had a shame that she would carry all the days of her life.

Music had been the source of Ada's strength throughout the years. She used it to bring peace and comfort to her family, and it enabled her to make a living when otherwise she might have starved. Ada spoke the language of music. She could hear Grieg in the ripple of a river like Cathleen did, yet she she could recognize Township Bach in the rough-and-tumble life of the people. She played it all and and more. Mutch has a poetic way with words, and her descriptions of Africa, the Karoo and the people evoke many strong emotions. Keep a hankie on hand.

Ada was a special daughter and she had a special daughter. But that may be another story. I keep coming across these stories about unusual daughters.

Rei Shimura is a prototypical American daughter in that she, too, is of mixed ancestry and this is far from unusual in a melting-pot country. Her father is Japanese, while her mother is of European extraction. Rei grew up in San Francisco, but has more an affinity for the Japanese side of her heritage and had lived for some time in a small apartment in North Tokyo. The Samurai's Daughter, by Sujata Massey, tells about Rei's line of work, which is in the Japanese antique trade. At present, Rei is taking a sabbatical to take on a personal history project. She hopes to make a record of the style in which the Shimuras had lived before the massive modernization of the 1960s. She was interested in the artifacts of that life, such as the cooking pots, the quilt designs and garden patterns.

She knew that her father had sold several artifacts from his past in order to be able to buy a large house in San Francisco, but she also wanted to understand why her father had gotten rid of some of the more valuable items the family owned, and was puzzled by his negative attitude about them. One artifact he sold was a letter from the Emperor Hirohito himself. Rei flies off the handle easily, so she doesn't communicate easily with either of her parents and she doesn't get the answers she seeks from them. Her hope is to recoup some of the items.

Rei's fiancé, Hugh Glendenning, is a lawyer involved in a class-action lawsuit on behalf of people forced to engage in slave labor for Japanese companies in World War II. They are hoping for recompense, since it was their hard work that gave the now-successful companies a good start. One of these clients is in San Francisco, and is brutally murdered. Rei gets drawn into this case, as her research delves into the war years as well.

One thing that Rei learns is that although she may look Japanese, speak Japanese and live in Japan, she has much to learn about the culture and the deep, hidden fears and sentiments that persist despite modern times. Rei is somewhat like a Samurai warrior ancestor herself, in that she is combative, resilient and traditional. There are 10 books in the Rei Shimura series and they are educational as well as entertaining. Massey's latest book is The Sleeping Dictionary, first in the Daughters of Bengal series, published by Gallery Books in August 2013. I hope to review this book about a daughter soon.

Sometimes, after reading of very dark deeds, I like to lighten my spirit with something from Michael Pearce. One of these is The Snake Catcher's Daughter. Pearce's mysteries take place in early 20th-century Egypt, when that country was governed by the British, the Egyptians following the code of the French, the Sultan was under the influence of the Ottomans and, of course, there were many other miscellaneous fingers in the pie.

There were those who appreciated the changes the British made, such as abolishing the kurbash, which was a whip used for punishment and extracting confessions, but there were those who liked the old ways better––especially the lucrative methods of job advancement by bribery rather than performance. Garth Owen, the Mamur Zapt in charge of the political crimes section of the government, becomes aware of a plot to discredit many of the British officials and cause them to lose their jobs.

One such man, a policeman, is found drugged in a snake pit and this is leading to all sorts of rumors of untoward behavior. The wily Mamur Zapt has to keep one step ahead of the nefarious plotters and he does this with the help of a young girl who has learned her father's trade, since he is too drunk to take care of business himself. She provides an all-too-necessary service in the land of the Nile. She is a snake catcher. She helps Owen catch the snakes he is after as well.

The list of books about daughters goes on and on, and I can't wait to read Laura Joh Rowland's The Shogun's Daughter (September 2013, Minotaur), a historical novel that takes place in ancient Japan. Another historical novel is The Kingmaker's Daughter, by Philippa Gregory, which chronicles Richard Neville, the Earl of Warwick, and how he used his daughters politically. Linda Lafferty's The Bloodletter's Daughter is another book about violent ancient times. Bad boys have daughters too, as is seen in The Con Man's Daughter by Ed Dee. In this book, ex-cop Eddie Dunne runs from the Russian mob, the FBI and more while trying to save his daughter. One of my favorite Suzanne Arruda books is The Serpent's Daughter, in which Jade del Cameron must save her own mother from evil forces in exotic 1920s Morocco. Maybe the book that started my interest in daughters of crime fiction is Bootlegger's Daughter, the beginning of the Deborah Knott series, by Margaret Maron. Knott is an attorney looking to be a judge in North Carolina, who gets involved in southern politics and crime.

Now, for books about sons, you'll have to wait for a future post.

2013

Here we all are, blithely stepping into anno domini or, if you prefer, Common Era 2013. This number is very auspicious, because 13 is unusual in that it is associated with both good fortune and ill fortune. If you consider it a worrisome integer, think of the Munsters' home at 1313 Mockingbird Lane, Friday the thirteenth and the ill-fated Apollo 13 mission––although this last one seems "lucky" to me because the astronauts came home against great odds.

Apollo 13

On the other hand, the number 13 has special significance for many of the world's religions. The people of the Jewish faith are all descended from the 13 tribes of Israel. There were 13 people at the last supper of Christ. There are legends in Sikhism of a famed Guru who gave food to every thirteenth person. Early Tibetan kings were enthroned at the age of 13 and often ruled for a period of 13 years, to be succeeded by the next 13-year-old king. Perhaps I should also mention that there are 13 witches in a coven and that many of our ancient cultures lived with a 28-day lunar calendar of 13 months.

We can't pretend there is no 13––like hotels, hospitals and tall buildings such as the Empire State building in which there is no floor numbered 13. Many airports skip the 13th gate. Airplanes have no 13th aisle. Hospitals and hotels regularly have no room number 13. There are plenty of cities without a 13th Street or a 13th Avenue.

If you are a reader, number 13 can be a good thing. As a matter of fact, these days it seems like most of my reading comes from series and I have found that the thirteenth book can be one of the best.

This is true of Andrea Camilleri's excellent The Potter's Field, reviewed here. It was the recipient of the 2012 International Dagger Award. Kerry Greenwood's The Castlemaine Murders, which was her 13th Phrynne Fisher story, was a finalist for the Ned Kelly Award for best novel. Nemesis was Agatha Christie's thirteenth Jane Marple story. Just a Corpse at Twilight, by Janwillem van de Wetering, was a finalist for the Anthony Award for best mystery. This has to be my favorite of the series, and it is the thirteenth in the series––if you count a book of short stories.

The main characters, Amsterdam cops Henk Grijpstra and Rinus de Gier are back for the first book written after van de Wetering took a seven-year break. This was a time during which van de Wetering, who had become a heavy drinker, got his life in order. Grijpstra and de Gier have left the force, with de Gier moving to the Maine coast, while Grijpstra has become a PI who is quite selective about his cases.

Much of de Gier's appearance and behavior seem to be modeled after van de Wetering, so it is appropriate that the story begins with a frantic phone call from de Gier to his former partner, telling him that, while under the influence of an experimental mixture of drugs and alcohol, he may have killed his girlfriend by kicking her off a cliff. A pair of dubious friends took the body away and they are now blackmailing him. Both Grijpstra and his old boss, the Commisaris, believe that de Gier is essentially a good man and can be helped.

Grijpstra travels to Maine and, while the locals all think de Gier is from California, because of his dress and funny accent, Grijpstra is labeled as a Dutch man from Pennsylvania for the same reasons. The mystery is entertaining, but it is the little vignettes about the interactions of the Down-Easters and the Dutch that bring the story to life.

Another favorite 13 of mine is A Cold Touch of Ice, by Michael Pearce. It takes place in Egypt, during the year 1912, when rising nationalistic fervor is making the work of Gareth Owen more complicated. Owen is the Mamur Zapt, the British chief of the secret police in Cairo. Years ago, the British stepped into Egyptian affairs after a call for help from the Khedive, who was the Egyptian ruler and who was concerned about the financial stability of the area. The British have settled in very nicely now, thank you very much, and even though things are better they seem to have put down roots!

The current problems that are heating up an already very warm climate are stemming from a war that has broken out between the Ottoman Empire and Italy over the territories now known as Libya. The Ottoman Empire was the major controlling force in Egypt, and the Cairenes favored their position. While there are many Italians living in Cairo, anti-Italian feelings are growing. When an Italian man, Morelli, who had lived and worked in Egypt for decades is murdered, Gareth Owen and his friend Mahmoud of the Egyptian law enforcement want to solve this murder quickly, before the situation becomes more inflamed. Morelli had run an auction house in Cairo for a few generations and considered himself a Cairene. His friends were all Egyptian and he spent most evenings with them in a café, playing a board game. One day after work, he was strangled on his way to the game. Was the murder because of his nationality or because of something overheard in a back alley about guns?

A backdrop of the story reveals, in a subtle way, that integration into a society can be reversed in mere days, as rumors spread and nationalistic feelings surface, jeopardizing longstanding friendships and instilling suspicion that no one can be taken at face value. In A Cold Touch of Ice, the title primarily refers to the ice that is so hard to keep on hand in an early twentieth-century Cairo summer. It also alludes to the shaft of cold that can spread through a community, hardening better feelings. The problems are often generational. The older people in a community are more likely to keep a friend they have known since their youth, while the younger hotheads simply look for targets to vent their anger on.

This story covers the time when the famous Lord Kitchener became the British consul in Cairo, and when T. E. Lawrence, the archaeologist, was settling into the early part of his fame. The sights and scenes of Cairo, the heightened tensions of war times, gunrunning, spying, secret brotherhoods, all combine to make this an interesting and exciting story.

I always take home a great deal more than a mystery's resolution when I read Michael Pearce. It is a trip to a different time and place that is enlightening.

There are a few more number 13s that I look forward to reading. Steven F. Havill's A Discount for Death is on the top of my TBR list, as is Donna Leon's Doctored Evidence. So I stand by the hope that the coming year will be lucky 2013.

2013 fun