Plums, Paprika, and Ghosts

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Plums, Paprika, and Ghosts, a wonderful book by my friend and fellow crime-writer A.J. Sidransky, is a success on many levels. This nonfiction book is part travelog, part family history, part culinary adventure, and part coming of age story, as seen through a father’s loving eyes, and it satisfies on many levels.

I particularly liked the author’s writing style. It was as if he and I were sitting at a tiny outdoor café table somewhere in Hungary and, over a plate of cherry strudel (not apple for me), he was telling me a story. It’s that personal, immediate, and written from the heart.

You don’t have to be Hungarian as he and I (not my Texas half) are to enjoy the touches of Old Europe he found, interspersed with enough history to make events unfolding there today more meaningful. He tells the story of his Jewish immigrant ancestors and how they came to America from Hungary and Slovakia (which was part of Hungary until after World War I) and made new lives here. Not all came, though, and many of those who clung to their homeland perished in the Holocaust.

My grandparents were likewise Hungarian and Slovakian, from the same part of the country, though they were Roman Catholic, and I treasured each detail and scene. But you needn’t share his family’s history to find a thrilling tale in his forebears’ determination, their courage in embarking on the long journey and starting their lives anew, their daily difficulties in a country whose language they didn’t speak. When Alan found remnants of the family’s homes and the businesses they left behind, it was compelling evidence of their past lives, like a lingering fingerprint in the community.

Alan had envisioned taking this trip ever since he became interested in family history several decades ago. Finally, as his son Jake graduated from law school, they decided to do it together. As a result, you see several Central European countries not just through Alan’s eyes, a man who has “lived it” vicariously for a long time, but through the eyes of his son Jake, who came of age more than a half-century after the Holocaust. Alan wasn’t sure Jake would be interested, but the young man’s observations proved him a perceptive, compassionate observer. In this way, it’s a story about the maturing of a father-son relationship that is heart-warming to read amidst all the tribulations and disconnects in the world, past and present.

Alan is also a trained chef, and you’ll be extra-pleased to find several family recipes he’s collected at the back of the book. They are just another way he transforms the abstractions of history and culture into something meaningful in daily life. Jó étvágyat!

P.S. I’m told my grandmother’s strudel dough was so thin, your could see the pattern of the cloth beneath it, as in this photograph. Alas, none of her six daughters did what Alan has done and preserved those precious recipes. — VW

What Did You Say Your Name Is?

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An interest in family history has led me down many intriguing paths and arcane byways. Naturally, my interest was piqued by a recent story in Natural History magazine by Samuel M. Wilson, “How Surnames Came to Be.” Do you know the origins of your surname? Enter it here and find out its original meaning and where people with your surname live all around the world .

My father was the child of Hungarian immigrants, and their five sons spelled the last name variously as Hegyi, Hedge, Hegge, and Hadde. It took ages for me to find my grandfather on a ship manifest, because he spelled it using the Latin spelling, Heggus. I’d forgotten that Latin was the official language of Hungary until the mid-1800s. The name attracts some jokesters too, as the picture attests.

My mother’s family isn’t necessarily easier to research. Her father’s last name, Edwards, is straightforward, but surnames on both sides of her family have inspired creative spelling: Woollen, Standifer, McClure. You have to take into consideration that even into the mid-1800s, many Americans could not read or write, and the clerks who recorded their names in church records, land transactions, and court documents relied on phonetic approximation. And maybe they didn’t hear so good, either.

Though some small and remote societies today still do not use surnames, Wilson says the earliest English efforts to develop them began about a thousand years ago. The kings wanted to identify all their subjects in order to levy taxes (a fine old governmental preoccupation). There, and elsewhere in Europe, surnames were often created from where the person lived: a town name or “Ford,” “Wood,” “Hill.” I have friends with all those names. “De Bilt” is a town in the Netherlands where the Vanderbilt family originated. Some names, like Wright, Cooper, Smith, etc., referred to a profession.

Often the last name started out as a patronymic, indicating who the father was: Johnson, Carlsen, Wilson, and so on. The prefixes Mac, Mc, O’ and Fitz also originally indicated “son of,” as, did the suffixes -ez in Spanish, -ski in Poland, and -vich in Russian. Some languages use a slightly different naming convention for daughters. In Scandinavia, you’d find Lavransdottir, and in Poland Kowalska, -not ski. In Slavic languages, a son of Ivan might have the surname Ivanov, and his sister the surname Ivanova. Of course, she may lose that distinction when she marries.

When populations become big enough, too many people with the same name can be confusing. The United States has more than three million living males named John. Perhaps reflecting the higher-born’s more frequent interaction with the authorities, Wilson writes, “In all known cases, [adopting surnames] began with the highest ranking tiers of society.” You may recall how in Tudor history, a Duke like Norfolk would be called Norfolk and also referred to by his family name Howard. Very confusing. Patterns of giving sons in multiple generations the same names mostly confound genealogists (me!), though sometimes the repetition suggests the Arthur you found is indeed from a family peppered with Arthurs.

I was interested to learn that some countries (Denmark, Germany), have approved lists of gender-specific first names. In Germany the name cannot be “the name of a product or common object, and cannot be a surname.” No Moon Unit Zappas there.

Finally, a recent New Yorker article about retiring meatpacking district business owner John T. Jobbagy (pronounced Joe-bagee) notes that Jobbagy is Hungarian, like my dad’s family, and you know that instantly because the surname ending in “agy.” Apparently all such surnames, like Nagy, are Hungarian. Who knew?

“Heat of the Moment”

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Erica Rivas, Wild Tales
Érica Rivas in Wild Tales

Malcolm Gladwell—always thought-provoking—recently reviewed the new book Unforgiving Places in The New Yorker (9 June), which examines strategies to prevent violent crime. The book’s author, Jens Ludwig, directs the University of Chicago Crime Lab.

Ludwig’s approach divides the phenomenon of gun violence into two main types, each of which has different motivations and modes of prevention. He believes the reason many preventive strategies fail (or fail to explain changes in homicide rates), is that what works for one type of violence doesn’t work for the other.

In general, people vacillate between two major modes of thinking. One is fast, automatic, and intuitive. It’s why Tony shot Maria’s brother Bernardo in West Side Story. Road rage is another example. This quick, unthinking response is what psychologist Daniel Kahneman calls “System 1 thinking.” By contrast, “System 2 thinking” involves deliberation and careful planning in order to gain something—“cash or phone or watch or drug turf.” Often, revenge. And, again in West Side Story, it’s why Chino shoots Tony. The violence associated with System 2 thinking is a means to an end.

Unforgiving Places points out our criminal-justice system has been designed to counter planned and deliberate System 2 crimes, when the real problem is those spontaneous, reactive ones, the homicides that occur in a moment of irrationality. According to FBI data, they account for more than three-fourths of murders committed over the past twenty years. The Chicago Police Department estimates that argumentsare at the root of between 70 and 80 percent of homicides in that city. (Say, between husband and wife, employer and employee, or in the picture from the short Argentinian film “Till Death Do Us Part,” above, even bride and groom.)

Looking back over the crime book reviews I’ve written in the last few months, I find that when gun violence occurred in these stories, it is often of the more deliberate type, because the workings of the perpetrator’s mind are important to the story, the crime’s motivation, and its ultimate solution. But sometimes, both types occur: a spontaneous, “heat of the moment” crime leads to a chain of deliberate cover-up assassinations; or, conversely, tracking down the perpetrators of a well-planned crime leads to a deadly, reactive confrontation. But the two types of violence are definitely bifurcated in the way Ludwig describes, and the distinction between them makes perfect literary sense. Scott Turow’s recent novel, Presumed Guilty, is a good example of a crime thought to be a System 2 crime that turned out to be something very different.

Every Word’s a Choice — Part 1

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Last week, I gave a presentation at a writhing workshop sponsored by the Public Safety Writers Association—an organization for public safety professionals (police, fire, EMT, military, etc.) who write and the authors who write about them. It’s a great group for any crime writer because you can get all your procedure-strategy-mindset questions authoritatively answered.

I think I took a different tack than the “grammar lesson” people may have expected, and instead focused on words, using the best words, and using them better. Words are our smallest writing elements, and I started with this quote from Mark Twain:

“The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter—it’s the difference between the lightning-bug and the lightning”

Over the next few weeks, I’ll be posting some of the information and resources I assembled for the workshop, but first I’ll answer a basic question: Why focus on such a small unit of our literary output? I focused on the words we writers choose, because they are fundamental to improving our skill as  writers. They are fundamental to making that connection with our readers that keeps them turning pages and coming back for more.

Some of the information in this series may be in the category of “helpful reminders,” like the chime that reminds you to fasten your seat belt. Some of it may be new, or at least strike you in a new way. And all of it, I hope, builds your appreciation for the magic you create when you write your stories. Think about it: You go from a blank sheet of paper to something with meaning and impact for your readers.

I’ve come to realize that the black squiggles I put on paper are only half the job of writing. All readers, with their assumptions, experiences, understandings (or lack thereof) perform the other half. They’re what bring my work to life and allow it to entertain, inform, and, sometimes, reflect. Pulitzer-Prize Winner Robert Olen Butler says the author’s job is to set up a dream, then author and reader experience the dream together. Grammar errors, poorly chosen words (even typos), jolt readers out of the dream, and they may not come back.

Words are how we authors communicate our thoughts, our emotions, our stories. There’s no body language or tone of voice to clue readers in to what we were thinking when we wrote a particular passage. For that reason, we need to take our words seriously, so that we evoke in our readers the feelings and understandings, the tension and the resolution we strive for. Words are our tools. Above is a word cloud of my presentation, the tools I used that day. How long is that new story, that book? 85,000 words? 90,000? Well, then, the author has 85 or 90,000 chances to get the words exactly right!

I hope you’ll go with me in the succeeding weeks on this “Every Word’s a Choice” journey.

A Murderous Reading Vacation–Right in Your Own Back Yard

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So your friends are off to the Jersey Shore or Thailand or the Maritime Provinces. You can have your own exciting vacation right from the ol’ lounge chair. Here are five recent crime stories that will give you a taste of sea, sand, and foreign climes.

Pele’s Prerogative by Albert Tucher
If a Hawai`i vacation is just what you need, you’ll find plenty of local color to make you think you’ve vacationed in that island paradise. Pele, you’ll recall, is the goddess of volcanoes and fire who created the Hawaiian Islands. The flowing lava creates lava tubes, akin to cave systems. Seventy-three-year-old Langston Otsaka, is found dead at the bottom of a lava tube in his back yard, and the wound on the back of his head suggests it wasn’t an accidental. Read my full review here.

Runaway Horses by the Italian literary duo Carlo Fruttero and Franco Lucentini
Lawyer Enzo Maggioni and his wife Valeria, traveling to Siena, encounter a violent hailstorm, take a wrong turn, and end up at an enormous villa, where they remain guests for several days. They’ve arrived shortly before Siena’s August Palio, a centuries-old event in which horses race three laps around the town’s Piazza del Campo. The competition is vigorous and not always fair. Then there’s the dead jockey in the library. My full review is here.

Killer Potential by Hannah Deitch
This story sneaks up on you and before long has its claws in you good and solid. From the moment Evie Gordon walks up to her clients’ quirky Southern California mansion and finds the front door wide open, you know she’s about to uncover something better avoided. A young woman is tied up inside, and Evie’s employers are dead. When suspicion falls on the two women, they go on the run across the US—a 2025 Thelma and Louise. Here’s the full review.

Sayulita Sucker by Craig Terlson
In this story, set in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, you’ll visit back alleys and dicey neighborhoods not featured in any guidebook. Luke Fischer barrels through the pages as unstoppable as a locomotive. He’s not always polite, prefers beer to wine, and raises a dust storm wherever he goes. Yet, he has an uncanny knack for finding missing people. This time, his client is a man whose teenager daughter has disappeared. Full review here.

Murder Takes a Vacation by Laura Lippman
The acclaimed author’s first cozy mystery is a delight. Muriel Blossom, widowed and newly wealthy, has planned her first trip to Europe—Paris and a splurgy river cruise. You might suspect that Lippman has an older auntie or family friend who inspired her to so perfectly create open-hearted, naïve Mrs. Blossom. From the first page, you’ll peg her as the inevitable victim of an assortment of solicitous character. Read the full review.

reading, apple

Great New Jersey Theater!

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Some shows you enjoy, some inspire a “meh,” and some occupy a “don’t miss!” category. In our family, Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest is in that last group, and the new production at the Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey, which opened Saturday and runs through June 1, knocks it out of the park! STNJ artistic director Brian B. Crowe and the cast reveal and revel in every bit of the penetrating wit that makes this show perennially popular.

The crux of the story is that two young women are determined to marry men with the given name Ernest, a name epitomizing sober seriousness. Unfortunately, they’ve fixed on a pair of society gentlemen of the complete opposite temperament. Neither is named Ernest, though both pretend to be. Even worse, because a man needs certain credentials to marry a society daughter, the origins of one of them are completely unknown. It’s left to dowager Aunt Augusta to get to the bottom of the case, or suitcase, as it were.

While the play is most definitely a comedy, and in this production the audience appreciated the humor immensely, the humor works because of Wilde’s spot-on observations about human behavior at the extremes.

Christian Frost plays Algernon Moncrieff, nephew of Aunt Augusta, and Tug Rice plays Jack Worthing, aspirant to the hand of her daughter, Gwendolen. Not only do these two actors deliver their lines with perfect comic timing, their body language and gestures make the always-slightly-ridiculous situation even more so.

Marion Adler is perfection as the unyielding Lady Augusta Bracknell, with Carolyne Leys her besotted daughter, Gwendolen. She believes all is well with her engagement to Worthing until she meets his hitherto unknown and suspiciously beautiful ward, Cecily Cardew, played by Joyce Meimei Zheng. The two young women immediately feign deep friendship, but you know the claws will come out once the unmasking of the pseudonymous Ernests begins.

In smaller roles, Richard Bourg plays both manservant to Algernon and later to Jack. Though he’s in the background, his reactions to the young people’s shenanigans add a great deal. Alvin Keith plays the country parson being tapped to christen or re-christen the men with new names, and Celia Schaefer plays Miss Prism, tutor to Cecily, who unexpectedly holds the key to the whole dilemma.

The young men may not be Ernests, yet, but they are definitely Earnest when it comes to love!

A word about the set. There are three scenes (Algernon’s flat, Worthing’s country garden, and, finally, his drawing-room), and the design accommodates all three with just enough elegant detail. Delicious costumes and atmospheric lighting effects in the garden scene too. STNJ productions are hosted at Drew University in Madison, N.J. (easily reachable from NYC by train). For tickets, call the box office at 973-408-5600 or visit the Box Office online.

Fair Haven

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Laury A. Egan’s new crime thriller, set in the suburban town of Fair Haven, dispels any notion you might have that the suburbs are dull. Fair Haven is an actual town in Monmouth County, New Jersey, and Egan grew up there, so while she describes its Jersey Shore locale with convincing authenticity, the residents’ shenanigans are, one hopes, wholly fictional.

Coincidentally, while reading this book, my husband and I found ourselves practically next door, attending the opening day of Monmouth Park Racetrack’s 2025 season. I kept glancing around at my fellow racing fans in search of doppelgangers for Egan’s lively characters! As Egan describes the area in a foreword, it’s a middle-income to wealthy year-round community with sailing, yacht clubs, the ocean, two rivers, and a rich history. Homicides, she says, are rare.

Maybe so, but she’s put a juicy one in Fair Haven. The protagonist is Chris Clarke, a professional photographer in her early 40s, who formerly worked for Monmouth County’s Forensic and Technical Services Bureau. Though she no longer works for them, the local police call her in when a staff overload leaves the Fair Haven Police with a dead body on their hands and no photographer.

The dead woman is Sally Ann Shaffer, a tennis pro at the Sycamore Country Club, who was electrocuted in her hot tub, and there is no shortage of suspects. It seems quite a few people, men and women alike, had sexual liaisons with Sally Ann. She may even have had her eye on a Roman Catholic priest, new in the community, who runs a summer tennis clinic for children of the parish.

Chris is in an intimate relationship with physical therapist Kate Morgan, and what I liked about this story is that Egan has made the sexuality of this couple and several other characters an integral part of the plot. Kate has been married and has a 14-year-old son, but one of the dilemmas she and Chris face is that the son doesn’t want to live with his mom as long as she’s with Chris. Too embarrassing.

Kate lost custody of her son in the divorce, when the judge received a letter from Sally Ann revealing that Kate is a lesbian. The hypocrisy eludes Kate’s ex-husband Harry, who drinks too much, and has been carrying on with Sally Ann for years. With justification, Kate wants their son back. Both of them end up among the several suspects in Sally Ann’s death.

There’s blackmail, thievery, fraud, assault, and more awaiting readers of this book. Although the characters engage in much antisocial behavior and hold quite a few prejudices, Chris is a likeable protagonist and remains the moral center of the story. I did feel that her old friend, Police Chief Mackie, and the department’s lead detective share more information with her than they should, but that does keep the story moving along briskly. While there are twists, they are all earned—Egan lays her groundwork well.

Weekend Movie Pick: The Penguin Lessons

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Although dramatic actors often have trouble with comedy, it’s remarkable how comic actors can do such wonderful jobs with dramatic roles. Think Robin Williams, Steve Carell, Melissa McCarthy. Maybe it’s their timing, or how comfortable they are being “all in,” or how carefully they listen and react, I don’t know. But the chance to see (mostly) comedian Steve Coogan in a straight role was irresistible. You may remember him from his pairing with Rob Bryden in the hilarious “The Trip” series and the lovely The Lost King.

The Penguin Lessons was directed by Peter Cattaneo (The Magpie Murders), and written by Jeff Pope and Tom Michell, based on the book by Michell (see the trailer here). The story recounts Michell’s experience working as an English professor at an upscale boys’ school in Argentina during the harrowing time of the military overthrow and all the “disappearances” of protestors (some 30,000 of whom were never returned to their families, dead or alive). The school, run by a rigid head master (Jonathan Pryce) has a strict “no pets” policy, so when Michell finds himself in possession of a penguin, he has to hide it. But the penguin turns out to be exactly the catalyst that helps everyone to become their better selves—better students, better teachers, better family. When the granddaughter of the school’s housekeeper is kidnapped by the military, the stakes become serious.

The plot isn’t groundbreaking, but it is very soothing and never becomes sappy, as such films so often do. The performances of Coogan and the housekeeper (Vivian El Jaber) feel absolutely real. Björn Gustafsson is a clueless science professor. The penguin is charming.

If you need a break from the news of the day, this is a good one! And, it appears, audiences agree. In case it isn’t showing in your area, I think you can see the whole movie here.

Rotten Tomatoes critics’ rating: 84%; audiences: 94%.

Water Everywhere

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When I opened Janet Rudolph’s fascinating Spring 2025 collection of essays for Mystery Readers Journal—this edition her second on the theme of “London Mysteries,” I was delighted to discover the first one, by Aubrey Nye Hamilton, was “The Lost Rivers of London.” This was a happy coincidence, because my mystery book club this week was set to discuss Rivers of London: Midnight Riot, a 2011 book by Ben Aaronovitch that I listened to a few years ago.

This was one of those books I would never have chosen if I’d realized what it was about, but which I enjoyed immensely—despite myself, you might say. There has been a new book in the series every year since (plus a second in 2011), bringing the series total to 14 so far. I’ve not read another of these urban fantasies, but I did enjoy the first. In it, an apprentice wizard (and London police constable) must figure out why ordinary people are becoming vicious killers, as well as try to broker a peace between two warring gods of the River Thames and their respective families. I recall that the several River gods and their watery relatives were quite entertaining.

Hamilton’s essay describes the 600 km network of rivers that flows mostly invisibly, but sometimes audibly, beneath the city. They are the numerous tributaries of the Thames, and the River Fleet (yellow on the map), for which Fleet Street is named, is the largest. As author Melinda Mullet notes in her MRJ essay, the Charlbert Street Bridge (pictured above) is actually an aqueduct whose enclosed iron pipes carry water from the “lost” Tyburn River (purple on the map) to the lake in Regent’s Park.

Paved over and channeled into drainage pipes, the city’s “lost rivers” now aid its sewage and flood protection systems. Nevertheless, Hamilton notes, “sections of the sewer are often relatively dry and quite safe, if unpleasant, to travel.” This has made it possible for people, for whatever reason, to walk the city easily and invisibly, underground. As this and other essays in the volume attest, crime fiction writers have taken full advantage of this urban feature. In recent years, considerable effort has been directed to restoring and revitalizing these watercourses.

The map shows the lost rivers in color. The white squiggle is the River Thames. Perhaps they do all have distinctive personalities like author Aaronovitch speculates. The currents below the surface.

Another Winner from Tim Sullivan

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When I scan the list of books I’ll be reviewing in the next few months for crimefictionlover.com, I’m thrilled when I see one of Tim Sullivan’s entertaining murder mysteries coming up. The series, each entry titled with the profession of the victim, proves no occupation is safe from murderous impulses. His latest is The Bookseller. You might think a bookseller, particularly one whose esoteric specialty is dusty rare books and first editions, couldn’t rile anybody up to the point of murder, but Ed Squire appears to have done just that.

In this story, Detective Sergeant George Cross, somewhere on the autism spectrum, again burnishes his reputation as an investigative bulldog. Once George’s jaws latch onto a case, he isn’t letting it go until he’s absolutely and completely satisfied the right perpetrator has been brought to justice. This is good for justice and frustrating for his colleagues in the Avon and Somerset Major Crimes Unit, who meanwhile have been barking up a great many wrong trees and just want to move on.

Of course, George and his partner, Josie Ottey, would find it easier to quickly home in on the proper suspect if victims didn’t tend to go through life accumulating a significant array of enemies. Over the course of this investigation, the detectives uncover serious family problems—financial and interpersonal. It begins to look as if everything isn’t on the up-and-up in the book shop, either. Most dangerous of all, the deceased ran afoul of a Russian oligarch to whom he sold some stolen documents, and the man wants his £2 million back.

The Russians—not just the fabulously wealthy oligarch, but also his gangsterish henchmen—bring a sense of real menace to the proceedings. Only some clever police work by Ottey and Cross’s team reveals the extent of their rather persistent presence and how they have been staking out the Squires’ shop.

Meanwhile, George is beset by his own problems. DS Ottey is now a Detective Inspector, outranking him. He fears he’ll be assigned a new partner. Of course, everyone recognizes she’s the only person who’s been able to work with him. As a reader, I also want her to stay! She’s an interesting character and a perfect foil for George.

More significantly, George’s father, Raymond, has had a stroke and will need a long course of rehabilitation, which George assumes he should take charge of. No one, especially Raymond, believes that would be a good idea, but changing George’s mind is never easy. The relationship between George and his father—and in more recent books, his mother—is one of the many charms of this series. Like Ottey, his parents know they can’t interact with their unusual son in the usual ways, and they’re models of effective coping.

Tim Sullivan is crime writer, screenwriter, and director, and his George Cross series benefits from that background in both (“I didn’t see that coming!”) plotting and the development of a diverse, never-boring cast of characters. Highly recommended.