Do you ever stay in bed (or on the couch) and read a book cover-to-cover after an exhausting week? This is especially enjoyable if your housemate, husband, or other relative agrees to bring you cups of tea at intervals. (“I’ll make moussaka tonight,” you promise.)
Here is a month’s worth of short weekend binge reads for the Weary and Worthy.
1. Margery Allingham’s The Case of the Late Pig. Allingham is one of the four Queens of Crime of ’30s Golden Age Detective Fiction, along with Dorothy Sayers, Agatha Christie, and Ngaio Marsh. In The Case of the Late Pig, published in 1937, Private Inspector Albert Campion investigates the murder of Pig Peters, an obnoxious, unscrupulous man who turns up newly dead five months after his own funeral. Pig had many enemies, including Albert, who remembers him as a bully at school. But who was the corpse buried five months ago? Allingham is a good if not brilliant writer, able to spin an unputdownable plot. I am a fan of Albert Campion, a wealthy, superficially silly, shrewd detective, not unlike Dorothy Sayers’s Lord Peter Wimsey.
2. Stanley Middleton’s The Golden Evening. There has been a revival of the work of Stanley Middleton, a prolific writer who won the Booker Prize in 1974, as Windmill reissues his out-of-print novels.
In The Golden Evening, the Allsop family is grieving because Ivy Allsop is dying of cancer in the hospital. Her husband, Ernest, and their two children, Bernard and Mary, feel guilty as she lies in pain in the hospital, but life goes on for them. Bernard, a graduate student in history, is engaged to a rich, slightly older widow, Jacqueline, who draws him into helping with the foundation of a cultural society. (Middleton expounds on Bernard’s introduction to modern atonal music.) Jacqueline insists on being introduced to his mother in the hospital; Bernard agonizes over the decision. His younger sister Mary , who begins dating an older boy at school, is not sure if he likes her or if she is being used. At one point Mr. Allsop seems to be cracking up, but somehow they cope. A quiet, beautifully-written novel about sadness, gradual acceptance of death, and the joys of life.
3. Domenico Starnone’s Trick. This Italian novel, translated by Jhumpa Lahiri and illustrated by Dario Maglionico, reminds me of Elena Ferrante’s early work (which I prefer to the Neapolitan quartet). The narrator, Daniele Mallarico, a successful artist, spends a couple of frazzled days in Naples babysitting for his four-year-old grandson, Mario, while his daughter and son-in-law go to a conference. We feel Daniele’s boredom and exhaustion, and his desperation to work on illustrations for a Henry James story (his publisher dislikes the ones he has submitted). Mario demands all his attention. And Daniele feels competitive with his grandson after Mario proves capable of copying one of Daniele’s illustrations. Things spin out of control in a manner that is almost Jamesian Gothic when the boy plays a trick.
4. Meghan Daum’s The Problem with Everything: My Journey through the New Culture Wars. I hesitate to write about this short, snappy book about the generational divide, because it is bound to make people angry. According to Daum, the Baby Boomers were idealistic, Gen X is tough and ironic, and the Millennials and Generation Z are rigid, fragile, and humorless. The younger generations have been raised on phones and social media, where short messages without documentation are passed on and believed as “truth” by the “woke.” Technology has limited their imagination and ability to argue. Some of Daum’s hypotheses are wild: at one point, she surmises that knowing the baby’s sex before birth has led parents away from the relatively gender-free roles of her own Gen X childhood to a revival of pink and blue, and a pink princess culture for girls which leaves them feeling like victims in need of rescue. I was appalled ot read that Jerry Seinfeld and Chris Rock no longer play the college circuit because of students’ dislike of edgy humor, while other comedians admit they simplify their jokes for the new audience. Daum writes brilliantly, and her theories are fascinating, even though I don’t always buy them. But the book is exhausting, like watching a car wreck.