My apologies for the abortive post earlier. The problem with trolling your old photos for inspiration is that you occasionally find you’ve used the same picture twice!

To stay on the same theme, more street art today! This is more like graffiti than art, but it’s still gorgeous. I always have to be careful when I use these pictures later — I love to use them as computer wallpaper when I’m teaching, and more than once I’ve had a student in the class recognize a location from them. But in this case, the graffiti isn’t in English, so I had to have my boss, who speaks Dutch and a bit of German, check this out before I used it. I wanted to be sure it didn’t say anything that I didn’t want splashed in front of the class!

A Train in Winter: An Extraordinary Story of Women, Friendship, and Resistance in Occupied France

The story really has 3 parts: the resistance, the camps and the aftermath. It begins in June, 1940, with the German takeover of Paris. It was fairly quiet, the fighting already over and the Nazis simply coming in to take possession of the city. The political climate was charged with controversy — Marshal Petain’s Vichy government more concerned with collaboration and pandering than liberation, a vigorous Communist faction that was strongly opposed to collaboration, and the majority of the French people caught between.

This isn’t history that I’m terribly familiar with, only in a very general way, and the stories and anecdotes about life under occupation were interesting and enlightening. The Germans lived like princes in the best houses, with the best food, while the Parisians stood in ration lines and stuffed their coats with newspaper to keep warm. That’s an excellent way to stir up resentment and resistance, and the existing Communist party — already used to protesting and keeping a low profile — gave it structure.

These women were involved in all sorts of resistance activities. They acted as couriers, sometimes leaving small children at home while they bicycled across the country, carrying money, weapons and anti-German tracts and newsletters. The punishments, if they were caught, could be severe, but at least in the beginning, no one suspected that pretty young women could be political activists and they took advantage of that. They dressed up, they flirted with the German officers, and they flew below the radar for a very long time.

Their bravery was born in part of naivete. They simply could not fathom that the Germans would imprison or execute them. They expected to be arrested, to be interrogated, to be held for short periods of time, but they seemed certain that no one would imprison a mother with young children — who would do such a thing? So while I commend their bravery, I sometimes cringed at their foolishness.

Eventually, they were rounded up, a result of intensive efforts by the German police and the French collaborators. They made their way through a series of more and more serious incarcerations and increasingly dismal conditions, before being shipped off to Poland, to the fort at Romainville, and eventually to Auschwitz. they would eventually become known as Le Convoi des 31,000. There were 230 women from all walks of life: students, chemists, writers and housewives; schoolgirls, an opera singer, a dentist. Only 49 would survive.

What you see most clearly is that this was not survival of the fittest; this was survival of the most cohesive. their friendship literally saved their lives. In Auschwitz, the weakest were pulled out of lines and executed. The women of Le Convoi protected their wick and injured. They pooled their food. The risked their lives to keep the others safe. They conspired to steal food and medication, at great personal risk. They found hiding places for the injured, to keep them out of the sight of the Nazis. They kept each other’s spirits high and provided what comfort they could, in conditions most people cannot imagine.

They came home to a mixed welcome, not unlike our returning Vietnam vets, years later. The country had changed and they had changed. People did not really want to hear about their suffering — they wanted to forget and get on with their lives. And when Charles de Gaulle and the French government celebrated the heroes of the resistance, the women were mostly forgotten…but they never forgot each other.

I can’t easily express how moved I was by this book. Women form friendships differently than men, I think, and we nurture them in different ways. Quite simply, without their friends, these women would have died. They lived because they had friends to rely on, and they placed tremendous importance on the group surviving to tell their story. Selfishness and looking out for number one would have meant certain death.

Countless times throughout the book, the women sing to lift their spirits and to show their resistance. The Marsellaise, the French national anthem, is sung so many times in the book that I caught myself humming it as I read. So I thought I would end this with the perfect example of the power of this song, a scene from the 1942 film, Casablanca.

My copy of A Train in Winter: An Extraordinary Story of Women, Friendship, and Resistance in Occupied France was an Advanced Reader Copy, provided free of charge

This week, my Teaser is from The Mirage by Matt Ruff. It starts with a twist on recent American history. It’s a little disconcerting, and it promises more plot twists to come!

“On November 9, 2001, Christian Fundamentalists hijacked four commercial passenger jetliners. They crashed two of them into the Tigris and Euphrates World Trade Towers in downtown Baghdad, Iraq, and a third into the Arab Defense Ministry headquarters in the federal district of Riyadh.”

See what I mean? Be sure to check back — I’ll be reviewing this one in February.

The Boiling Season by Christopher Hebert

Growing up in the slums of a politically volatile Caribbean island, Alexandre dreamed of escape. What he lacks in opportunity, he makes up for in ambition, and soon the driven young man lands a position as caretaker of a derelict estate purchased by a wealthy foreign businesswoman.

While the country chafes under the dictates of a brutal new despot, Alexandre settles into a comfortable life in the mountains outside the capital, removed from the politican and social turmoil. Overseeing the estate’s restoration evokes for him an innocent, idyllic past. When his new employer decides to turn the property into a decadent, jet-setting resort, Alexandre sees it as the culmination of his childhood dreams.

Losing himself in the creation of this opulent Eden, Alexandre severs the last links to his past. But the outside world is crumbling. Trapped in the middle of a war he has ignored, he is forced to face the limits of the paradise he has created when an armed gang of rebellious slumdwellers, battling to topple a savage regime, invades his sanctuary. Caught between past and present, despair and justice, Alexandre must choose between preserving the estate he loves and protecting those he has spent his life trying to escape.

So Pretty It Hurts: A Bailey Weggins Mystery by Kate White

Bailey Weggins, the thirty-something, true crime journalist for Buzz, a leading celebrity magazine, needs a break. Plenty busy with her day job, her freelance work, and trying to get her first book noticed, she barely has time for her recently exclusive boyfriend, Beau Regan, much less herself. When Beau goes out of town, Bailey accepts an invitation with her friend Jesse to a music mogul’s weekend house in upstate New York.

But, the relaxing weekend getaway turns out to be more like an Agatha Christie whodunit. A weird tension has infected all the guests—a glamorous crowd of journalists and models, including the famous, and famously thin, supermodel Devon Barr. An impending snowstorm only adds to the tension. When Devon’s cold, lifeless body is found in her bed, Bailey immediately suspects foul play: she can’t shake the memory of a fearful and angry Devon shivering in the woods outside the house, whispering , “I have to get out here . . . It’s not safe for me.”

When evidence goes missing from the crime scene, Bailey once again finds herself a moving target—running closer to the truth and farther from safety.

Elegy for Eddie: A Maisie Dobbs Novel by Jacqueline Winspear

Early April, 1933. To the costermongers of Covent Garden — peddlers selling fruits and vegetables on the streets of London — Eddie Pettit was kindness itself. A little “slow,” he was a gentle soul, more boy than man, with a gift for calming the most challenging horse. His recent death in a violent accident has shocked his friends and neighbors. They believe Effie was the victim of foul play, but the police won’t investigate. Their only hope of finding the truth is Maisie Dobbs.

Maisie has known these men from childhood, when her father, Frankie, worked alongside them. Determined to do right by Eddie, she plunges into the investigation. The search for answers begins amid the working-class streets of Lambeth, where Eddie lived. But before long, Maisie is following threads of intrigue to a powerful press baron, a has-been politician lingering in the hinterlands of power named Winston Churchill, and to the doorstep of a writer who is also the husband of her dearest friend, Priscilla.

This is kind of a quiet week here at Alive on the Shelves. I thought I was going to be on the road, but it looks like I’m home for a few days. I’ve got 3 or 4 reviews that I need to get posted for you (including one I promised last week), along with some changes to the decor around here that I’m working on. Hopefully, I’ll have some time to get caught up this week.

Monday: I’ve got a post a little later this morning about some new books on my shelf. Check those out to see what I’ll be reviewing over the coming weeks.

Also, be sure to check out my HOT READS post – it’s not too late to add your hottest read of the month to the list.

Tuesday: As always, I’ll have a teaser from my current book. Right now, I’m reading The Mirage by Matt Ruff. It’s an interesting twist on 9/11 and the war on terror and I can’t wait to see where the story goes!

Wednesday: I hope to round up some new words for Wondrous Words Wednesday.

Thursday: My review of A Train in Winter by Caroline Moorhead.

Friday: I hope to have another review ready to go, probably The Informationist, which I missed last week. But who knows? I’ve got at least 3 other books finished and waiting for reviews. Could be anything.

Also on Friday, a late night, adults only review of The Reluctant Muse. The nice folks at House of Erotica have got me on their list and they have been sending me some steamy stuff!

Saturday: Saturday Snapshot — hopefully, this week I’ll be able to take a picture with no snow involved!

That’s the plan for this week, so mark your calendars and stop back to see what’s happening!

This has been a bizarre weather week in Ohio. We’ve had it all — blowing snow, pouring rain, thunder and sunshine. Today, we’re back to winter and as I was carrying some things in from the car, I decided to capture a little scene in my backyard.

This shed was pretty dilapidated when I moved in, but it has almost completely collapsed in the last year. I love photos of abandoned buildings. I just wish this one wasn’t in my backyard. I’m really hoping to talk the landlord into pulling it down this spring.

Sixkill

In Sixkill, Spenser is older and wiser and without his usual back-up, Hawk, who is off in Central Asia. We start off with a visit from our old friend, Martin Quirk, who wants Spenser to look into a murder. A particularly nasty piece of work named Jumbo Nelson is shooting a movie in Boston and has apparently murdered a young woman he hooked up with. At least, she died in his bed, the coroner isn’t quite sure of what, and he claims to have been barely sober enough to notice she was dead when he came back from taking a leak. Like I said, nasty fella. As much as everyone wants to put him away, Quirk isn’t sure, and Spenser trusts Quirk’s instincts.

The novel introduces a new character that I think would have had some staying power. Zebulon Sixkill (and what an awesome name that is!) is a Native American college drop-out, former college football star, now a bodyguard for Jumbo Nelson. He’s got a drinking problem (not the sort of thing that is helped by hanging out with celebrities) and he ends up working with Spenser. Actually, what Spenser does is more like mentoring — he helps the kid get sober, gets him back in shape, gets him a job at the gym. Gets him back to a place where he might be able to make something of his life. He’s an interesting young man and, like a lot of other tough guys from previous Spenser novels, could definitely become a recurring character. Sadly, we won’t get to read what Parker might have had in mind.

Sixkill is one of the better Spenser novels I’ve read recently. There were a couple of books where I thought it might be time for Spenser and Susan to retire to a little cabin in the Catskills or something, but there is plenty of snappy dialogue, cool new characters, and an engaging mystery to solve. It was a real pleasure to read, which makes the fact that it is the one that was completely Parker’s all the more melancholy. This is an author and a series that I will truly miss, but I am glad that he goes out on such a high note.

My copy of Sixkill came from my personal library.

This week, my teaser is from A Train in Winter: An Extraordinary Story of Women, Friendship, and Resistance in Occupied France, a terrific read about a truly terrible period in history. It’s interesting to read the nitty-gritty details of what it was like to be living in Paris under the Nazis, and I hope I would have shown the courage that these young women did. This comes from some of the anecdotes about surviving the coldest winter on record in Paris, under occupation by the Germans:

“Though the integration of France into the Nazi war economy had dramatically cut unemployment, the French were beginning to understand that the shortages were the direct result of the enormous booty of clothing, food and raw materials leaving every day for the Reich. The Parisians were now obsessed with food and warmth, lining their clothing with newspapers, putting mustard in their socks and making muffs out of rabbit and cat skins.”

Mustard? In your socks? I assume they mean dry mustard, but still! Doesn’t sound warm to me.