I Confess I Didn't Like It

A few of these stories were okay, but in all, they were oddly written and some were a little hard for me to follow. I'd originally gotten this book for an elderly friend who was in a "home", and I knew she liked mysteries. I was thinking she might enjoy something along the line of the old Ellery Queen short story mysteries, and this is what I landed on when I ordered online. Well, my friend died shortly after I placed my order, so the book was mine. Suffice it to say I'm glad I didn't give her this book--it's a far cry from the quick whodunits I had hoped I'd find in there. I just didn't find it enjoyable; not that he's not a good writer, but I felt an emptiness running through all the stories that tinged the whole book with bleakness. Not my style, I guess.

A Story of Now and Then

An elderly matriarch dies, and the will is read. The executor, a bit of a black sheep-type family member, is bequeathed one thing--a beautiful antique necklace. The layered story of the necklace and its history are what propel this tale of long-ago forbidden love, and a smoldering flame in the present. It was easy enough to read, but I wasn't roped in. The logic behind the family rumors of the big secret everyone's talked about for years was tenuous at best, and I felt like the pieces of the puzzle were a bit forced together in places. A solid B-.

A Change of Perspective

It's impossible to say how getting to know a prisoner destined for the death penalty would change any of us. This (white, middle class) author and her family began a relationship with Cecil Johnson, a Black man, convicted of murder, as a church outreach project. What began as an assumption that they would help him, ended up to be something very different. Over many years he became a de facto member of their family, with everyone (including their two daughters) considering him someone special and close to them. His beautiful poetry is not something one would expect from someone sitting on death row. Although there was/is ample evidence that Mr. Johnson did not commit the crime which sent him to await his final day at the hands of the prison system, his position was that prison "saved" his life, literally as well as figuratively. His trajectory had been heading toward disaster, until it was changed abruptly by his sentence. So do we whip up righteous indignation at yet another Black man wrongly convicted and refused a retrial even though there was evidence to support it? Or do we celebrate the fact that a man awaiting his execution managed to find love, meaning and peace in the years he spent behind bars? It's complex, and there's no easy answer here. Nevertheless, it's a beautiful story of a beautiful relationship.