Hilary MacLeod

A very old man, Abel Mack, disappears on one of the small islands that make up part of Prince Edward Island in Canada. Seamus O’Malley wants to effect a return of the Canadian cod fishing industry to Newfoundland. Brock Ferguson, a fanatical collector of Guinness-type world records, wants to catch and document the biggest cod ever caught to his roster. How these three men collide forms the base of this mystery.
I love reading about the northeast coast of the U.S. and Canada. Author MacLeod gives the reader a little of the natural atmosphere of the area, so that’s a plus. But the plot, which is enough for about 100 of the 300-plus pages, is mostly ridiculous. A well-known man, married and with a daughter who has lived at home, in a very small island community, somehow isn’t actually seen for thirty years? The other two subplots, involving the fishing industry and the mad collector, are just barely believable.
All that would have been fine if there were any genuine humor, any subtle tongue-in-cheek attitude, present to amuse the reader. Sadly, there isn’t any. And the constant use of sentence fragments (MacLeod must read a lot of mystery writer Louise Penny’s books) is just jarring and takes the reader right out of the story. Here’s a sample:

…in a reverie that grass mowing and riding a lawn tractor seemed to inspire in some men. Always in a world of their own. Or in the best of both worlds. Working and not working at the same time.

That’s not an interesting writer’s quirk. That’s just sloppy.
Not recommended.… (altro)

I've met the charming Hilary MacLeod and was already prepared to like her book, just because she's such a wonderful person in real life. What I wasn't prepared for was the dazzlingly erratic group of characters tumbled about like lobsters in a loosened trap. I've lived in small town Maritimes, and PEI does small town smaller than most. People can't live there less than three generations if they want to be called locals (and then only by some). Village life is dramatically important and often interrupted by legions of tourists. It makes for an intoxicating mix.
When a self-declared aesthete (I so want one of those calling cards) arrives in town, the whole place wakes up, turning their curious and money sensing noses up towards the house on the cliff.
Characters are well-drawn, and I like them all (except perhaps Guillaume), the story tests the limits of believability but stays within bounds, and what amazed me was how MacLeod finds all the threads and ties them up into a glorious net at the end.
For those who try this book and give up in confusion - for there are a lot of characters to get under your belt at the start - stick it out. You're in for a fun ride, a slight taste of salt, and probably more information about lobsters than you ever wanted to know.
MacLeod describes her stories as "Village Noir". Those of you who have lived in small villages, especially we "come from aways", know Village Noir well, and will enjoy this book for that alone. Those of you still away will love it's humour and feeling of the seacoast.
And Canadian literature buffs? Well, there is a storm, lots of inner angst, an orphan or two, unwanted babies, the wise elders. And lots of nature, red in tooth and/or claw.… (altro)