"The Wedding People" by Alison Espach (2024)

 

Branching into other genres that I normally go for sounds like it could be fun - in theory. 

And than, there are mistakes, misconceptions and simply wrong choices.

Note to myself: remember not to follow blindly any random suggestions by "The Guardian" or even "Goodreads" whose audience gave this book a "Goodreads Choice Award" for the "Readers' Favorite Fiction of 2024". In short, do not pay any attention to what other people read and simply follow your own intuition, choose your own reading path and never mind awards. I don't remember when was the last time I disliked the book so much (maybe "Behold the Man" by Michael Moorcock that I threw away across the room in disgust back in 2016), I really suffered with this one. You see, I expected something fluffy, a light summer read and perhaps something entertaining or witty that would even make me smile. After all, it earned widespread acclaim as something refreshing, clever and very funny. It was not and I disliked it immensely, but found myself stuck with it and didn't want to admit defeat so I read the darn thing to the end (halfway trough I switched to audio book just to speed it up little bit). While I understand that the author invested her time and energy into this + there are obviously readers who love this type of book, it was not for me. 

For the sake of reminding myself of what I just suffered trough, I will write down just the frame of the story, just so it never ever cross my mind to read it or this author again. A middle aged literature professor Phoebe checks in a luxurious hotel (that she admired in some brochures a while ago) with intention to kill herself. You see, her life, her career and her marriage are all falling apart and she disappears without saying a word to anyone, with only one wish, to enjoy the last night on this earth in a luxury. What she does not know is that the rest of hotel is full of week-long wedding party and somehow she got sucked into it, mostly by efforts of incredibly selfish, egoistic and self-centred bride Lila who insist that her wedding must be perfect and nothing, absolutely nothing should spoil it. Phoebe not only ends up being invited as maid of honour but - being an outsider - has a different perspective and soon everybody starts confiding in her, like she is some wise woman full of knowledge and wisdom, not a depressed suicidal frump she was in previous chapter. The book is built on totally chick lit premise but nothing here worked for me, probably because I am not a target audience - most of the plot and characters were simply either unconvincing or annoying to me. It even baffles me how on earth anybody could find this "favourite fiction of 2024" but than again, as I said, my reading path is uniquely my own and perhaps I should just continue following my own guts.

"Destry Rides Again" by Max Brand (1930)

 

OK so 2026 is definitely a year I started exploring a genre I have never ever even approached before and that is western. In the past, I associated it with a pulp novels my stepfather used to read and I guess it fits with his generation (he was post WW2 child, raised on John Wayne movies) - honestly, before 2026 the only western novel I ever read was "Betty Zane" by zane Grey. Funny enough, as I started my reading in January 2026, it was exactly revisit to that same "Betty Zane" (a few decades later) that gave me lots of joy and inspired me to explore the genre a bit more. Being systematic Virgo as I am, I made a list of what are classic examples of the genre (in chronological order) and carefully started exploring some more. I suffered a bit trough now extremely dated writing style of both "The Virginian" (1902) and "Hopalong Cassidy 1: Bar-20" (1906) although I enjoyed them both once I disciplined myself into reading - I simply knew that I have to continue until I reach something published in more recent times. So I totally skipped 1920s (something to explore?) and jumped straight to 1930 when this novel was published.

Just as I expected, writing is much more to my liking and to be honest, this might be one of the most enjoyable westerns I have read so far in 2026. Even though Owen Wister and Clarence Edward Mulford are celebrated as classics of the genre, I doubt that anyone reads them for pleasure these days. Max Brand (the pseudonym used by writer Frederick Schiller Faust) on the other hand, is a full blown western pulp fiction told in a exciting, much more modern language (I didn't get a headache like previously with above mentioned novels) and therefore easier to follow. In fact, it was just a perfect escapism, with lots of posturing, shooting, horse riding and all. 

Not to be confused with 1939. Hollywood movie of the same name, "Destry Rides Again" is basically a revenge novel, kind of western Count Monte Christo. At the very beginning we are introduced to swaggering and hotheaded Harrison Destry who is jailed for a crime he did not commit and the local jury of twelve men (all of them holding a grudge against him) sentence him to ten years in prison. Its clear they simply hate him for who he is and to be honest he was a troublemaker who loved to get drunk and fight, but surely this is not deserving ten years in prison. The novel really gets going when Destry gets out the jail and how he searches each single person from that jury to punish them for what they did to him. There is also a intriguing fact that the man he considers his best friend is secretly the main antagonist, so this works out very well. For once, we have no Indians, though they are some black slaves mentioned (in a extremely derogatory way that today we consider offensive, but it was obviously accepted in 1930). I enjoyed this a lot and read the book in a short period of time. I am also glad that I left the historical ancestors behind and now arrived at the point where I can easily follow the language. It's not a high literature, but a very very pleasant pulp fiction and a pure escapism. 

"The Hollow Man" by John Dickson Carr (1935)

While browsing excellent crime fiction guide "Crime fiction: A Reader's Guide" by Barry Forshaw I noticed the name John Dickson Carr mentioned in the same breath as Agatha Christie and other authors of the golden age of detective fiction - to be honest, I don't really know much about anybody else except Christie from that period (I have read one single novel by Ngaio Marsh) so this name got stuck in my brain + he was unusual as being perhaps the only American celebrated amongst his British colleagues - enough for me to become really curious and to give his most famous novel a try.

"The Hollow Man" (titled The Three Coffins" in US) is today his best known work and often mentioned as example of who Dickson Carr was as an author. It is also an example of so called "locked-room mystery" where detectives are facing a seemingly unsolvable crime and what at the first glance appears impossible case (no traces, no fingerprints, etc). I guess both Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie used this form, though Dickson Carr is the one mentioned as a prime example today. At first, I was intrigued - there is a murder in a house full of witnesses (but no one really saw what happened) and the policemen helped by sharp investigator Dr Gideon Fell are trying to connect the dots. The writing was solid, mysteries piled on top of mysteries and Dr.Gideon is entertaining as someone who often pulls conclusions out of the thin air. 

However, at certain point I became a bit exhausted by Dr.Gideon - yes, he is sharp and yes he glances in the corners and suddenly realises how pieces of the puzzle fit in much bigger picture, but the plot is so ridiculously confusing that at certain point all these "red herrings" feel almost like a parody. Almost like Dickson Carr wanted to use every single locked room cliché there is. Tunnels! Chimneys! Masks! Ropes! In fact, at one point Dr.Gideon suddenly gives a lecture about locked room novels and usual possible solutions to mysteries. (Almost like turning to a reader and talking directly to us instead of his policemen friends) He notes that audience often gets upset when finding out how exactly they were cheated and I find this very interesting because it shows that Dickson Carr was very much aware of his public and what they expect. On one hand, they wanted to be entertained but they will get disappointed once they realise how it was done. And yes, correct, eventually I found myself thinking that the road to the mystery was actually more entertaining than the solution itself, which felt rushed up and clumsy. 

Another thing that bothered me was that (with exception of the victim and Dr.Gideon) I could simply not remember who is who. At first I found this embarrassing and blamed my own lack of attention, but later found out that many readers agree that characters and the names were simply there as props and there were absolutely no development that could help us remember or understand who is who and why are behaving the way they are. You know, servant comes in and out of the room, the end. Various characters are floating around without any real distinction between them and I had to even look up the list of characters online to check who is talking. 

"'I will now lecture,' said Dr Fell, inexorably, 'on the general mechanics and development of the situation which is known in detective fiction as the "hermetically sealed chamber. All those opposing can skip this chapter. To begin with, gentlemen! Having been improving my mind with sensational fiction for the last forty years, I can say -' 

'But, if you're going to analyse impossible situations,' interrupted Pettis, 'why discuss detective fiction?

'Because,' said the doctor, frankly, 'we're in a detective story, and we don't fool the reader by pretending we're not. Let's not invent elaborate excuses to drag in a discussion of detective stories. Let's candidly glory in the noblest pursuits possible to characters in a book."

"We Used to Live Here" by Marcus Kliewer (2024)

 

After satisfying but somewhat slow-burning double biography of Leonardo and Lisa Gherardini, I was ready for something lighter, shorter and more gripping. Something that would make me read passionately, with interest and excitement, not just enjoying historical trivia. Thanks to my ever-growing lists of "books to read" and the decision to focus on authors unknown to me, I picked up this debut novel by a Canadian writer Marcus Kliewer who was exactly what I needed.

"We Used to Live Here" is a spiritual descendant of Shirley Jackon's early 1960s horror novels (even its title refers to "We Have Always Lived in the Castle") - not by the story itself, as much as for the atmosphere of uneasiness and dread that slowly creeps into the pages and it grows stronger and stronger as we progress. It appears as a disturbing example of "house intruders" story with uninvited guests on one side and gay couple Eve and Charlie on the other. Eve is the paranoid one, always looking for (and expecting) troubles, while Charlie seems more solid and realistic. There are many things that go bump in the night, a horrifying basement that apparently goes on forever, spooky shed, weird neighbours, etc, etc, etc - one of those stories where couple who just moved in is totally unaware of what everybody in the neighbourhood knows. Even if the author decided to keep it all fairly unresolved and full of hints, I didn't mind - I don't need to have everything spelled to me and can easily appreciate psychological unraveling without neatly tied endings. It kept me very busy reading for a relatively short period of time and it was a joy to read during my lunch breaks at work & deep into the night. 

"Mona Lisa: A Life Discovered" by Dianne Hales (2014)

A slow-burning and quite beautiful double biography that discusses lives of both Leonardo da Vinci and Lisa Gherardini, along the way we are treated with a colourful tapestry of renaissance Florence with its cast of thousands and countless intriguing anecdotes of how life used to be back than. Reader must put aside any prejudices or opinions - its wrong to judge 16th century by modern standards and what nowadays we might consider wrong was totally accepted once. For example, like most of Florence ladies, Gherardini was constantly, perpetually pregnant and at the age of twenty four she was married eight years, with five children - high mortality of children meant that perhaps only half of them survived the childhood. Than there is this story about women often entering a covent if they didn't have a suitable dowry - without dowry, nobody would take them - two of her own sisters AND her oldest daughter entered a convent (at the age of twelve) and were basically buried alive for the rest of their lives, only because family could not get appropriate finances. (It seems dowry was only important for aristocrats who were carefully managing their lands and properties, a baker's daughter would marry for love.) Than there is Leonardo himself, who was never legitimately recognised by his father and as a "bastard" was not able to to attend university or to pursue professions such as medicine and law - he was forced to create himself and pursued a lifelong self education. 

At first, reader might wonder do we have any proper, documented informations about Gherardini but there are surprisingly many of them and Dianne Hales delightfully share her excitement in doing research in modern-day Italy, following the footsteps of both mysterious lady and her painter. We are introduced to the whole family clan and its many intricate branches, everything placed in its proper historical background, weddings, wars and all:

"Sometimes hours, sometimes days, weeks, or even months after the exchange of vows came the triumphal procession, the ductio ad domum or domumductio (leading [of a woman] home) from her parents’ to her husband’s residence, a bride’s moment of public glory. Since the marriage was not yet complete, Lisa did not have to wear a matron’s cloak (mantello) but could show off her wedding apparel to the entire town.

The festivities would have continued at the del Giocondo home, with a guest list extending beyond the immediate families to various kin groups. Everyone dressed as beautifully as possible as a way to “far onore” or contribute honor to the event. The wedding feast may have featured expensive treats, such as spiced veal, roast kid, peacocks’ tongues, and sweetmeats. Honeyed almonds were popular confections for the guests, with musicians, singers, and jugglers entertaining well into the evening.

The eating, dancing, toasting, and singing might have seemed to go on forever yet passed as quickly as a flash of summer lightning. As the bride, Lisa, imbued with the special authority of a queen for a day, could have invited young men and women to dance as couples. In the old Tuscan wedding ritual, her mother would have placed a baby boy in her arms as a harbinger of future sons and slipped a gold coin in her shoe for prosperity. Outside, a few young men may have lingered to shout and sing in a raucous mattinata, a tradition whenever an older man “stole” a young girl for his bride. Some coins tossed through the window for drinks would have persuaded them to leave." 

There is literary a cast of hundreds, including both notorious families of Borgia and Medici, Niccolò Machiavelli, various kings of France, young Raphael and Michelangelo who at thirty earned more money than Leonardo did in his lifetime. The rivalry between them was explained in a chapter dealing in their proposed (but never materialised) joined work, "The Battle of Anghiari" - in 2018 I have seen the exhibition about it in the Teylers Museum. 

Towards the end, I got a sudden epiphany about Leonardo's work - most of the things he created during his lifetime were celebrated but falling apart (for example, "The Last Supper" was peeling even during his lifetime). His motto was that art survives, where the real life beauty fades. It is very possible that the commissioned portrait of Gherardini (that he never ever even delivered) was something he kept on doing for years, out of his own pleasure and beautifying it with details and new ideas until it no longer resembled real life person. In the last chapters we learn about several copies around the world (none of them convinces me) and the fate of real painting that travelled far wider than either the artist or its subject ever did. 

"Kiss Kiss" by Roald Dahl (1960)

While listening a podcast about supposed spying activities of famous British writer Roald Dahl, I suddenly realised that I have actually never read anything by him - his children's books were often made into films and quite a few of them were my old favourites, hence why I never went to the originals. But it made a perfect sense to include him into my 2026 reading list which consist of my first-time authors - the decision is to focus this year on authors I have never read before. So I gave some attention to Dahl and it was a blast. 

First, I don't know why it took me so long to step out of my comfort zone and approach short story collection, because I have quite a few. Maybe I expected that the frame of short story will not have urgency of regular novel, where reader is compelled to continue. Wrong. Short stories were actually perfect because I could pick them up anytime (during work lunch break for example) and not miss a beat. But it did mean that I did not feel the urge to continue with a cliffhanger, so the book was simmering a while in the background while I waited another chance to continue. I mean, seriously, I could have just read it all at once, but it took me two weeks instead. 

However, when I disciplined myself into reading, I was enjoying it 100%. Dahl has a macabre sense of humour and brilliant imagination that fits me perfectly - I was hooked from a very first short story "The Landlady" (about young men falling victims to a supposedly harmless old lady) to the very last one ""The Champion of the World"  about pheasant poachers. Without exception, each single story was excellent and I loved them all - what I enjoyed the most was the way Dahl would abruptly finish the story, leading the readers to their own conclusions. It is too often now that people expect everything to be explained, but Dahl trusts his readers are adults and have intelligence to come to conclusion themselves. So when clueless locals decide to "help" antiques dealer, we don't get any detailed description what happened afterwards, only a tantalising sentence : "“We’re just in time!” Rummins called out. “Here he comes!”

There are stories about couples living in a long, loveless marriage, adultery, a mad beekeeper who is turning his baby into a queen bee, a neurotic and celibate vicar, parents fussing about sickly baby and praying to God that their little Adolf survives (!), mysterious cat who might be reincarnated Franz Liszt, and one about vegetarian boy who has never in his life tasted meat. Each of them is funny and bizarre in their own way and I absolutely loved the way Dahl weaves a tale - it fits with my own sense of humour, though I would never in a million years imagine this is the person who will find fame and success with children's novels. 

"Her husband closed the garden door behind him and walked across the room to get himself a cigarette. 

       “Edward, where is he?” 

       “Who?” 

       “You know who.” 

       “Ah, yes. Yes, that’s right. Well—I’ll tell you.” He was bending forward to light the cigarette, and his hands were cupped around the enormous patent lighter. He glanced up and saw Louisa looking at him—at his shoes and the bottoms of his khaki slacks, which were damp from walking in long grass. 

       “I just went out to see how the bonfire was going,” he said. 

       Her eyes travelled slowly upward and rested on his hands. 

       “It’s still burning fine,” he went on. “I think it’ll keep going all night.” 

       But the way she was staring made him uncomfortable. 

       “What is it?” he said, lowering the lighter. Then he looked down and noticed for the first time the long thin scratch that ran diagonally clear across the back of one hand, from the knuckle to the wrist. 

       “Edward!

“Yes,” he said, “I know. Those brambles are terrible. They tear you to pieces. Now, just a minute, Louisa. What’s the matter?” 

       “Edward!” 

       “Oh, for God’s sake, woman, sit down and keep calm. There’s nothing to get worked up about. Louisa! Louisa, sit down!”

"Hopalong Cassidy 1: Bar-20" by Clarence Edward Mulford (1906)

Because this is the year of "first time authors" and because I had enjoyed both Zane Grey and Owen Wister, I decided to go back to Westerns - a genre in which previously I had absolutely no interest - typically for me, I have to do things in some kind of order so I continued with reading Westerns by chronology and since both "Betty Zane" and "The Virginian" were published at the beginning of the century, I selected first novel about a extremely popular fictional character called Hopalong Cassidy : "Bar-20" was where he was first introduced to a wide audience and apparently this was a beginning of a phenomenon that later grew out into films and TV.

Here I must admit that this time I doubted my own decision, since 1906 novel was a bit of challenge, mostly because of the language: Mulford uses a lot of Western vernacular speech that gets tiresome and off-putting after a while. This is a perfect example:

"“Yu wants to keep yore busted-down cows on yore own side. They was all over us day afore yisterday. I'm goin' to salt any more what comes over, and don't yu fergit it, neither.”

It goes like this the whole time and it really depends on a reader, do you continue or leave the book completely. I persisted and eventually started to enjoy myself despite initial reservations (somehow I turned my brain inside out to understand what is going on) but I can understand this is not for everybody. That is why it took me three extremely long weeks to finish what is actually not a big volume - I had to be in the right mood to approach wrestling with strange words. 

Not really a novel, more a short story collection, "Bar-20" is about cowboys working around ranch of the same name and their adventures - one of the characters is Hopalong Cassidy who eventually becomes the main character, but here is not just yet so. Guys ride their horses, drink, curse, sing dirty songs and alltogether behave like what now we expect cowboys to have been - as contrary to later, sanitised version created by Hollywood. The fact that there is almost no women at all in the book actually explains the lonely lives and camaraderie of the guys who are always ready to protect each other. Mind you, they are all very young guys and each time Hopalong Cassidy actually meets any woman, he behaves like a lovestruck teenager. 

"Bar-20" was the beginning of saga that produced more than 20 books, 66 movies and 6 seasons of TV show - Hopalong Cassidy became a hugely beloved character but it all started here, in this eccentric little book from 1906. It was not the best Western I read this year and to be honest, it deserves a solid 3 out of 5 stars - however, I did find myself enjoying the cowboys adventures, once I got over the strange language. The best of all was the description of cowboy's lives that totally lack any glamour - author lived with real life cowboys for a while and he knew what he was writing about.

"Full Service" by Scotty Bowers (2012)

The full title is "Full Service: My Adventures in Hollywood and the Secret Sex Lives of the Stars" and this is exactly what it promises - memoirs of a ex-marine who worked on a gas station in Hollywood and provided discreet services to the whole world, including some of the biggest names in the movie industry. At the time of the publishing, Bowers himself was well in his 90s and most of his acquaintances were long gone so it probably felt safe to open this Pandora's box because after all, who's going to complain about dirt on post-war Hollywood. And to be honest, at this point it's not a secret anymore that many of the celebrities lived double life, with studio's tactful approval, as long as they kept it far from media. Even thought many of his spicy stories seems like exaggeration (after all, who can either prove or disprove what xyz liked in the bedroom?) it must be noted that Bowers knows in a tiny detail a lot about celebrities houses, the interiors, roads, what cars they drove, etc. And yes, he is prominently mention in research by Alfred Kinsey  so it appears he was around at the time - its up to a reader to decide how much of this is true. 

There were two slight objections that kept on nagging me and I just couldn't shake it off:

- Bowers claims everything happened spontaneously simply because he was a good looking ex marine and was working on the gas station, when Hollywood producers and such would request his sexual services. One thing led to another and before you know it, he was connecting clients with available soldiers/sailors/girls - but he insist this was all for the sake of fun and he never ever took any money for this. In fact, he was just making everybody happy and making a world a better place. 

Than he proceeds to describe how for the next several decades he was extremely busy doing this while at the same time he was working as a bartender all around private parties in Hollywood. I don't want to sound cynical or nitpicking but please, investing so much time to do what is basically pimping and claiming it was not for money ... it just doesn't sound true. 

- Bowers obviously loved sex and affectionately describes every single occasion, where, how, with whom and how many people were involved. This made me stop a little bit and wonder was there not anything else in his life important remembering - he casually mentions wife and daughter, than goes back to orgies with celebrities - not to be too fussy, but what kind of person memorises zillion sexual encounters in a detail? Even as we read this, everything eventually blurs into a exhausting list of conquests - so much that a halfway trough I put it down and left to simmer for a while, unsure is this really worth continuing. 

My problem with this book was that it felt as a one-trick-pony. Once you get over the introduction and initial thrill of "dirty secrets", the gimmick wears off and its just never ending list of erotic encounters where author brags about celebrities that he encountered - almost like Zelig, he is everywhere, behind Hepburn, Beatles, King Kong and Bugs Bunny. I might have enjoyed it better if I read it as a teenager, when I loved these kind of dirty memoirs - now I am already middle aged and see things differently. Yes, we got it, it was difficult and complicated for those people to find dates and keep it hidden, but as a book it soon became repetitive. And I totally skipped the chapter about Charles Laughton, I simply didn't want to keep this in my head. 

"Kids, Wait Till You Hear This!" by Liza Minnelli, Josh Getlin and Heidi Evans (2026)

After a long & heavy battle with Walter Scott, I promised myself something light, fluffy and entertaining - and I had a perfect book in mind. I devoured this celebrity autobiography with the greatest pleasure in just a few days, nothing like previous book about medieval England and merry men from Sherwood forrest. Guess what, give me Walter Scott anytime - yes, it was sometimes a struggle but it was a beautiful creation worth repeated reading and it actually transported me in a different place and time. I was thinking this morning that this particular memoirs could have been something else entirely if Minnelli wrote it a decade or two ago, while she was still relatively strong in body and mind. At this moment, she is 80 and very frail, so naturally her focus is on a slow but inevitable decline. And we read about it a lot. Basically the first part of the book is climb upwards and second part is descent. Take it as you want. 

Years ago I read somewhere a description of Minnelli as a "loose cannon" and this had stayed with me since than. We all known and loved her since early 1970s when she at only 26, she won Oscar for her immortal role of quirky and lovable fräulein Sally Bowles - ever since, she was a famous for being famous, forever haunted by paparazzi and often photographed hanging around with other celebrities, though it would be hard to remember when was the last time she actually did something memorable. True, she did the best she could to escape gigantic shadows of her parents and created the individual stage persona for herself - kind of modern day version of her mother (who was a star of musicals and crowd magnet in live performances) - but she might had come along a little bit too late: during the 1960s people were turning to rock music and Minnelli was a throwback to completely different, earlier era of glitzy Las Vegas shows. While Streisand (who had similar background in the night clubs and musicals) eventually managed a smooth crossover to mainstream pop, Minnelli actually never had a hit single or successful movie after that 1972 masterpiece "Cabaret". 

So the first part of the book describes Minnelli's upbringing in Hollywood hills - kind of what people probably expect from her, memories of celebrities visitors, uncle this and uncle that, struggles with notoriously famous mother (who traumatised her for life, although Minnelli continues to write about her lovingly) and climb towards 1972 Oscar. Than something else emerges - the fact that movie industry didn't know what to do with her. Apparently the role like Sally Bowles happens only once in a lifetime. Notoriety and fame guaranteed that she will always have sold-out live performances in her concerts and musicals but both movie and music career basically quietly fizzled away. It's actually quite amazing to think that Minnelli continued performing for decades, even though she never had a hit record or another hit movie. Sporadic flash like silly 1981 comedy "Arthur" or 1989 out-of-the-blue collaboration with synth-pop duo Pet Shop Boys just proved that she was a wonderfully gifted, old-fashioned performer who never found another place to shine. 

I was always impressed with her powerful alto. I remember even as just a teenager, swooning over her early, pre-Cabaret recordings where she would recorded something like "On A Slow Boat To China" or "Stormy Weather" and honest to God I thought she was far, far better singer than her mother (I still do). So I continued enjoying her music and watching her dancing & singing in musicals was always a joy. But I understood that there was a big divide between her and regular big music stars who were selling chart-ruling hits - hers was a world of American Songbook and these things go in and out of fashion. When a surprising number of pop stars eventually turned to Songbook repertoire, Minnelli (who should have been by far the most obvious choice for this) was too busy with personal problems to actually pay attention to recordings. It is a miracle that her career continued as long as it did. 

The second part of the book is, sadly, perpetual fight with addictions, hospitals, rehab clinics and so on. It gets maddening and repetitive to the point that it unbalances the book - however, it is her story and her life. I can't comment on this since I don't hop around Hollywood parties with A list celebrities non stop, like she does. There must have been a lot of sycophants, enablers and whatnot around these people and its surely not a healthy environment, specially if someone is trying to stop drinking - luckily, she found a true friendship and support in Michael Feinstein and it seems they both love and support each other. The book was bittersweet - wonderful when things were happening, sad when they were not. It feels light and breezy but there were occasional reflections and insights that suggested Minnelli understands herself all too well. It takes a special kind of person to decide to give her whole life to a make-believe world. I love Liza. 

"Ivanhoe" by Walter Scott (1819)

This has been on my to-read list forever and with some embarrassment I must admit that I don't recall ever actually reading Scott before. What I do remember is borrowing his "The Heart of Mid-Lothian" from my local public library as a teenager and bringing it back unread, so my initial introduction to this writer was not very impressive. Who knows was it a clumsy translation or simply the fact that I might have been too young for flowery and long-winded style of this author, but it left me a bit intimidated all these years until now. And since I decided that 2026 will be year of reading only writers I never read before, it came as completely spontaneous decision. Truth to be told, I always had soft spot for old classics and this year I already pushed myself trough experience of 1902 western "The Virginian" which was wonderful, though initially hard nut to crack - the more I persevered, the more I loved it. So perhaps unconsciously, I hoped for a similar experience. And I was 100% right.

First, a few words about Walter Scott - he was already a famous writer when he published "Ivanhoe" in 1819. He had enormous success with a series of historical novels set in 17th and 18th century Scotland, but with this next novel he decided to move plot in medieval England and there was something about the change of pace or perhaps he was simply inspired, in any case "Ivanhoe" became the biggest success of his professional life and turned thousands of readers to medieval history. This particular novel is the reason why they call Walter Scott "the father of historical fiction". Interestingly enough, everything we later accepted as a part of Robin Hood/Richard the Lionheart lore comes from this novel - all those legendary characters (Prince John, Friar Tuck, etc) they are all here and although they are supportive characters, they left such a strong impression on the readers that subsequent writers all use Scott as a inspiration. Another thing I must mention is Scott's writing style which is very, very old fashioned + he created his own version of old English language which is somewhere between poetic and annoying - first two chapters were incredibly hard to crack but as I continued, the magic happened and I started to actually enjoy the rhythm and the flow of the sentences. It felt as I am reading this forever but actually it was only 3 weeks. With all my proclaimed "suffering", when the end came I was sad to let the book go. Exactly like with above mentioned "The Virginian", it was at first difficult to read but than I got totally into it and at the end I loved it with all my heart. 

The novel itself is a curios combination of medieval knights adventure story and a highly researched historical novel, with some occasional moralising and a tons of sidetracking and detours that stop the plot dead in its tracks but also bring a real sense of author's thinking and his personality. Scott might not be really the first but he was certainly the first really widely read writer of historical fiction and very often this particular novel transport the reader into a completely different, medieval world - I was as enchanted as everybody else. From top of my head, I recall the description of funeral party after the passing of Saxon nobleman Athelstane and how all sorts of medieval folks crowded the Castle of Coningsburgh: 

" Numerous parties, therefore, were seen ascending and descending the hill on which the castle was situated; and when the King and his attendants entered the open and unguarded gates of the external barrier, the space within presented a scene not easily reconciled with the cause of the assemblage. In one place cooks were toiling to roast huge oxen and fat sheep; in another, hogsheads of ale were set abroach, to be drained at the freedom of all comers. Groups of every description were to be seen devouring the food and swallowing the liquor thus abandoned to their discretion. The naked Saxon serf was drowning the sense of his half-year’s hunger and thirst in one day of gluttony and drunkenness; the more pampered burgess and guild-brother was eating his morsel with gust, or curiously criticising the quantity of the malt and the skill of the brewer. Some few of the poorer Norman gentry might also be seen, distinguished by their shaven chins and short cloaks, and not less so by their keeping together, and looking with great scorn on the whole solemnity, even while condescending to avail themselves of the good cheer which was so liberally supplied.

Mendicants were, of course, assembled by the score, together with strolling soldiers returned from Palestine (according to their own account at least); pedlars were displaying their wares; travelling mechanics were inquiring after employment; and wandering palmers, hedge-priests, Saxon minstrels, and Welsh bards, were muttering prayers, and extracting mistuned dirges from their harps, crowds, and rotes. One sent forth the praises of Athelstane in a doleful panegyric; another, in a Saxon genealogical poem, rehearsed the uncouth and harsh names of his noble ancestry. Jesters and jugglers were not awanting, nor was the occasion of the assembly supposed to render the exercise of their profession indecorous or improper. Indeed, the ideas of the Saxons on these occasions were as natural as they were rude. If sorrow was thirsty, there was drink; if hungry, there was food; if it sunk down upon and saddened the heart, here were the means supplied of mirth, or at least of amusement. Nor did the assistants scorn to avail themselves of those means of consolation, although, every now and then, as if suddenly recollecting the cause which had brought them together, the men groaned in unison, while the females, of whom many were present, raised up their voices and shrieked for very woe." 

There is of course a story itself - about disinherited young knight Wilfred of Ivanhoe who is back from the crusade together with his lord Richard the Lionheart and how they had to fight back trough all the enemies surrounding the evil usurper Prince John, plus numerous complications concerning ladies (pretty but bland Saxon princess Rowena, who epitomises than current ideal of decorative and helpless beauty, the Jewish healer Rebecca who is far more interesting character), Robin Hood and his outlaws, countless servants, knights, abbots, etc. The novel is really a masterpiece and even though it was difficult to get into it, it gave me hours of joy and bliss.