Iphigenia in Forest Hills: Anatomy of a Murder Trial by Janet Malcolm

So, Janet Malcolm is a journalist and writes for the New Yorker as well as having published a number of acclaimed works of nonfiction and biography. I have been interested for some time in reading The Silent Woman (biography of Sylvia Plath), and actually own Two Lives (of Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas), although I have not yet read it. Her latest release is Iphigenia in Forest Hills, and I was interested enough to buy it at once, for the library, and to take it to lunch with my on the day of its arrival to start reading it.

First impressions: I guess the cover is boring to you here in image form, but I find it striking and respectable in its simplicity. I wish more books would try this style of straightforwardness; not that I don’t appreciate beautiful, elegant, well-designed covers that involve color and images, but this slim, simple, black book is very eye-catching in a world of graphics.

It starts off very strong. I’ve said before, my kind of nonfiction is narrative style; this is just right for me. Malcolm has a voice in her own story, including occasionally referring to herself: how she would have reacted to a certain question in the jury selection process, for example. Or, later in the book, how she interacted with the families in question during interviews; or her discussion of the different journalists and their interactions during the trial. I like that Malcolm plays a part in the book. It seems more realistic that way. Who can help being a part of the story she writes, especially in a case such as this? Malcolm followed the case for many months. She couldn’t have helped but be involved on some level.

The story is this. NYC is home to a community of Bukharan Jews in a neighborhood called Forest Hills, in Queens. Boy meets girl; they marry, and have a baby girl. Four years later, husband Daniel is murdered while handing off daughter to ex-wife. She stands trial for his murder, along with the man who allegedly fired the gun, as her hired hit man.

There are accusations that Daniel physically abused his wife and sexually abused their young daughter. There is a heated custody battle and suspicions of emotional neglect and attempts to turn her against one parent or another. The event that allegedly pushes the wife to have the husband killed, is that a custody judge chooses to remove the child from her mother’s care and place her with her father. This looks like a crazy decision, since the child barely knows her father and he was not asking for custody, merely visitation rights. There is questionable evidence; both the prosecuting and defense attorneys come in confident of victory. There are issues of culture. I learned a lot about the Bukharan sect of Jews, which I knew nothing about before reading this book.

Iphigenia in Forest Hills reads a little bit like a courtroom-procedural novel of criminal intrigue. Our questions, however, are not finally answered, as they almost certainly would be in a novel. Malcolm is not sure whether Mazeltuv Borukhova did, in fact, hire Mikhail Mallayev to kill her ex-husband Daniel Malakov. (Her title, by the way, is part of what initially attracted me to this book, along with Malcolm’s excellent reputation as an author of biographical nonfiction. It references the story of Agamemnon and his family, which I know best, and love, as told by Aeschylus. Of which, more below.*) I love that Malcolm interviews and interacts with both families and both sides involved in the legal battle, while noting her personal reactions including any bias she sees herself develop. She recognizes and gives weight to emotional reactions and personalities. It’s not a sterile treatment – because our legal justice system is far from sterile. In the end, she doesn’t tell us what really happened, because she doesn’t know. The blurb inside the front cover begins with the defining quotation of the book:

She couldn’t have done it and she must have done it.

So there you have it. A story of ambiguities and questions, beautifully and insightfully told, from myriad angles. My first Malcolm read has come far too late, and I’m more eager than ever to get into more of hers.


*The Oresteia by Aeschylus is a trilogy of ancient Greek tragedies: The Agamemnon, The Libation Bearers, and The Eumenides. I could go on all day; I love ancient Greek drama. But I’ll try to be brief. Iphigenia’s story:

As the Greeks prepare to sail to Troy (to lay seige, in the Trojan War, to recover Helen, wife of Agamemnon’s brother, stolen by Paris), the winds are against them; to appease an angry goddess, they choose to sacrifice Agamemnon’s daughter, Iphigenia. She is brought to the harbor in a wedding dress, believing she will marry Achilles, but instead is killed by her father, who then sails for Troy. Upon Agamemnon’s triumphant return ten years later, his wife (Iphigenia’s mother), Clytemnestra, along with her new lover, entrap and kill Agamemnon.

Thus, Malcolm’s title suggests that the mother in this story, Borukhova, is so angered by the “theft” of her daughter (through custody court, not sacrificial slaughter) by the girl’s father that she has him killed (by a man implied to be her new lover). As I said, I was drawn in by this allusive title. I find the allegory a bit weak in the end: the daughter in Malcolm’s story is not murdered (although there is some question that she might have been raped!); and the title’s implication suggests a bias that Malcolm generally does not profess in the body of the book. But still, it is a dramatic title, one that got my attention; and it makes a larger point, that this tale is one of epic tragedy and does no one good in the end. There is no victor; no one’s lot is improved by these sordid events (as the victim’s father points out repeatedly), regardless of whether Daniel Malakov was a good man and doctor or a deplorable and sick abuser.

I recommend Janet Malcolm’s Iphigenia in Forest Hills; and I also recommend Aeschylus!!

Hotel du Lac by Anita Brookner


Announcing International Anita Brookner Day! Coming up on July 16, which this year will be her 83rd birthday, and co-hosted by Thomas at My Porch and Simon at Savidge Reads. The idea is to read at least one novel by Brookner before IAB Day, and then go check out Thomas’s blog to link to your blog post or comment there on his page.

I am grateful to these gents for suggesting that I check her out. I was not familiar before, and am now absolutely a big, big fan, after reading Hotel du Lac. Thomas called her books each “brilliant in its own quiet, often depressing way” and also says that they are all “so similar in theme and tone that it is a little hard for me to keep them straight” but also “each of her novels, regardless of plot, is a perfectly wrought gem of introspective genius.” These comments seem somewhat mixed; depressing and all running together? not quite so complimentary; but then again, he’s organizing a whole Day around Brookner, and uses words like “brilliant,” “perfect(ly),” and “genius.” I was intrigued. And, they’re short books. 🙂 So I found this one and gave it a go.

I will use Thomas’s word and say brilliant, indeed. This is a book about a woman named Edith Hope, who at the start of the novel, arrives at the titular hotel for a medium-length stay on the coast of Lake Geneva in Switzerland. She seems to have been sent away from her home in some disgrace by friends and cohorts, but it’s not altogether clear why. She also seems to have a very passive role in her own indefinite exile. It’s odd.

Edith’s new life at the hotel is quiet and slow, which is not unlike her home life; she works on writing a romance novel (her umpteenth) and socializes by listening to women with larger and not entirely attractive personalities who are also ensconced. She writes letters home to a married man who was or is her lover – it seems to be past-tense – but it’s not clear that she mails them. She’s generally a passive and quiet person. I felt it was so descriptive of her that

…the action startled her, as if her plans had been made final without her having reached any conscious decision.

It’s a generally quiet book. There’s very little action, just musing. And it is depressed, if not depressing. But it is insightful and very funny, too. Brookner’s choice of words is extremely cutting, articulate, and rare. I point you towards a recent post in which I marvel at the line, “not drowning, but waving.” Indulge me with one or two more:

[The schoolchildren] were not given to excess or noise, and once the ship had left the shore they were summoned into the glassed-off observation lounge by their teacher for some sort of lesson. Obediently, they turned like swallows and left Edith and Mr Neville alone on deck.

Only one of many instances in which silence is discussed. It’s a theme. Or, how curious is it that such a coldly civilized man as Mr Neville would say,

Please don’t cry. I cannot bear to see a woman cry; it makes me want to hit her. Please, Edith.

It’s a strange, calm, quiet, leisurely, literary novel in which not much happens, but it’s such a luxurious joy to read it slowly, and go back and re-read. I failed to note where Brookner wrote that

The company of their own sex, Edith reflected, was what drove many women into marriage

and had to go back looking for it; and re-reading 50 pages was pleasurable, not at all a chore. The book might be read as a statement on love or marriage, but I feel like this subject matter is incidental; to me, it’s more of a book of tone, of language, and of character sketches. (How fascinating is Mrs. Pusey as a creature?) It could be about anything.

This book is beautiful. I want to read more Brookner. Will I do so before IAB Day? Who knows; there’s lots to read in my world. But I will definitely read more, eventually. She’s a real treasure. Thanks for the into, Thomas.

The Pied Piper by Ridley Pearson (audio)

Another effort to become more universally familiar with the mystery genre. Another lackluster review; but to be fair, two things: 1) the Husband and I listened to the abridged audiobook, and I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it was very heavily abridged. 2) this was a fair audiobook. Passable. Got us through Tyler and almost up to Texarkana. Which is to say, vastly superior to Shoot Him If He Runs.

It was just a bit too rushed. In only 3 cds, I’m going to assume we lost quite a bit of character and plot development. Even at this rate, the characters were interesting and likable; I’m genuinely concerned about Boldt’s wife who’s dying of leukemia and intrigued by her spirituality. I wanted to get to know these people better and, to give Pearson the benefit of the doubt, I’ll guess that I could have, if I had read the unabridged book. This level of abridgement hurt the flow, style, and interest of the plot, assuming it was a good book to begin with.

Would I give Pearson another try? I’d be willing to if he fell in my lap at the right moment. I’m not against him.

These Things Hidden by Heather Gudenkauf

This book drew me in (and presumably I was not the only one!) with its blurbs all over the interwebs referencing abundant vagueness: teenaged Allison has just been released from prison; the former perfect princess committed some unspecified, horrendous crime. Brynn, her invisible sister, struggles to move on from her sister’s mistake. And two unrelated women angst over Allison’s presence, while a little boy’s fate is held in the balance. All this vagueness, and promises of suspense, got me excited; but I found myself disappointed in the end.

For one thing, The Big Question of what Allison did is answered very early on, which I found rather anticlimactic; the questions that remained for the rest of the book felt a touch wanting in suspense after the blurbs built me up. Perhaps most frustrating was the continued and continuing obsession with maternity and motherhood that I’ve repeatedly observed in today’s pop fiction. That’s a personal beef; it’s just not my fave; but it’s worth noting that this book seems to follow a trend.

I didn’t find any one character really sympathetic. Each of them was mildly likeable; but none got me really deeply rooting for them. Also, there was almost no male role at all in the whole book. Again, this is a personal gripe, since I like my worlds a little more gender-diverse. In the end the most likeable character I found was the grandmother, but she was pretty minor; I don’t think she even had a name.

It’s not all bad. I did sit up and read this book all the way through in one sitting; I stayed up past my bedtime to finish it (not much, just 1/2 an hour, maybe an hour); I wanted to get to the end. But, it wasn’t the most burning need-to-finish; and I wouldn’t have stayed up much later. It was a fine book that suited me for an evening. It was an easy read: enjoyable, superficial and superficially enjoyable. Not a bad thing for a plane trip or bus ride. But nothing especially sparkled. I give it a “meh” and am disappointed because I had hoped for more.

A Lesson in Secrets by Jacqueline Winspear

It’s time for the next Maisie book… and the last, for the time being. This one just came out in late March, giving us readers-along just long enough to obtain, read, and blog about it. Again, this is part of the Maisie Dobbs Read-Along hosted by Book Club Girl.

While enjoyable in the same Maisie Dobbs way – and not least because I’m familiar with her and her world, and familiarity often breeds comfort and contentment – this book failed to really grasp my interest. In fact, I wanted to put it down in favor of other things (not permanently, just… for a bit), but had to finish it for this read-along date today. To have to make myself read a book is not a strong endorsement! What was wrong? Well, I missed James Compton, for one thing. Or, I missed Maisie having any romantic action. I know James was in her life, in theory, but he wasn’t an active player for much of the book. And her discomfort with the postmark issue and the suspicions it caused her just made me impatient. We’ve spent too much time watching Maisie be hesitant and unsure. I am bored. She needs to do something different to keep me entertained in this arena. She needs to become engaged or become a lesbian or swear off men or be promiscuous or something. I am bored.

Billy’s reduced role hurt me, too. I like Billy and his family and the change of tone they impart. I guess this book saw Maisie alone onstage a lot more, and that might have been a little bit too one-note for me. We got Sandra, a little bit, but I don’t find her to be a well-developed character. It’s all well and good for Winspear to take Maisie off into a new environment with new players; but I don’t think she exploited its possibilities to the fullest. For example, I would have been interested to read about students and philosophy and Maisie’s experience as a teacher. As the daughter of a teacher (and a sometimes-teacher myself), it definitely did not ring true for me that she just waltzed into the classroom and casually picked up teaching (at the university level, no less) without missing a beat; we didn’t see her struggle with the new responsibilities at all. It would have been more realistic if she had.

I didn’t hate this book, and I’m sure some of the fellow read-along participants loved it (will be by to check it out in a bit), so, sorry… but A Lesson in Secrets failed to draw me in. This series is ending for me in a sort of vague trailing off, rather than with a bang or an anxiousness for the next installment. That said, I will almost certainly pick it up if and when it comes out, because I’m not THAT upset. But this is a weak finish-for-now, in my book.

The Apothecary’s Demise by Anne Sloan

I had some free time while home sick and picked this up as a light and enjoyable sort of read. You might recall the first of these two books, Murder on the Boulevard, which I read a few months ago. I ended up with a slightly mixed review: the mystery was not stellar as genre fiction, but it was satisfactory; the writing and production (self-published) were not extremely professional; but the story itself, and the characters, and overwhelmingly, the setting, were so likable and comfortable that I enjoyed it overall.

The same rings true for the second book; except if anything, I enjoyed it even more. I think I had come to terms with the fact that the writing was not perfectly polished; I expected less in that regard (sounds nasty, doesn’t it. not trying to be). And I really adore the historic Houston Heights setting and all the local, historical detail. As I said before, there’s nothing like reading about your own backyard, as it were. And the names dropped (like Teas the nursery man) are great fun when you’re in on the jokes. So, perhaps someone not from Houston wouldn’t find these books quite so charming, but I most certainly did.

In this sequel to Murder on the Boulevard, Flora and Max are attached but not yet engaged, which surprised me; I thought it was a foregone conclusion at the end of Murder. Max leaves town (to see Wilson inaugurated in DC with Jesse Jones), and Flora finds herself caught up – reluctantly – in another murder mystery: in fact, another apparent suicide. In trying to help some friends of friends out of trouble, solve a double murder, and unravel the mysterious illness of her best friend since childhood, Flora finds herself aggressively courted by a newcomer to town. I found this book easy to read, entertaining, and extremely comfortable in its hometown flavor – I loved picturing the streets and settings as they were described. I’m pleased to give Anne Sloan a positive review in the end.

The Heroine’s Bookshelf by Erin Blakemore

I have a delightful little book to share with you today! I mightily enjoyed Erin Blakemore’s The Heroine’s Bookshelf: Life Lessons, from Jane Austen to Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Blakemore’s message is this: we are all heroines in our daily lives, or at least we can and should be; and we have a wealth of heroines to learn from. These are the women of our favorite books. She organizes her book by chapters which each deal with one lesson or attribute (including dignity, happiness, and simplicity), represented by one author (all are women) and one female character, from one book or series. I would love to list them all here for you but feel I should leave you something to discover when (not if!) you pick this book up yourself; so I shall tease you with Alice Walker and Margaret Mitchell, on top of the two authors Blakemore names in her subtitle.

It’s a very sweet, comforting, and comfortable little book. Twelve chapters explore twelve women’s literary impact on our world. Eleven of them I definitely call classics; one I’d never heard of! but of course I don’t know everything. Blakemore’s approach is intimate and loving and a touch incisive. It’s not an academic or intellectual book, but it’s not what you might call “fluffy”, either. She did do some research, I’m sure, as she discusses not only what’s between the pages of the books in question, but also notes biographical details about the authors and draws some conclusions. For instance, I didn’t know about the 2008 revelation by the descendants of Lucy Maud Montgomery about her death. This book is not too serious – a light read – but an important one, at the same time.

I am absolutely inspired to read, and re-read, the books examined here. I share Blakemore’s love for Jo March, and I wonder at her selection of Jane Eyre over Wuthering Heights, but we’re all unique, individual heroines, aren’t we. I marvel at her call to compare Frances Hodgson Burnett to Britney Spears and Amy Winehouse! but I admire her for it, too. Again, the adjectives that come to mind are comfortable, almost warm-n-fuzzy.

I need to own this book; the library’s copy will not suffice. And I think YOU should own it, too. Who am I talking to here? Well, I readily accept that many of these books are “girls’ books” (or women’s). But some are absolutely essential to us all: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, for example, is an important book all around. This book is directed at women, but is not necessarily to be enjoyed by them exclusively. I’m sure you know who you are.

I can almost see a book club (or reading blog) project coming out of this. I would be very happy to shelve this book, in my home library, next to its twelve objects of study, and read them all in a streak of thirteen, with a mind to discussion. This would be a lovely thing to share with other women – and a willing man or two if they could be located. I don’t have the energy to put this together at this time, but do invite me if you decide to. 🙂

I’m so glad I found this little jewel. I hope you’ll find it, and enjoy it, too.


Edit: My mother asked who this author is, and I had to go looking for the answer, so here it is, Mom: she calls herself “a writer, entrepreneur, and inveterate bookworm” on her website, and I was immediately drawn in to her blog and have added it to the list of blogs I follow.

an average day in the life of a librarian

…means taking things home. We will eventually have a storage problem in my house. Or perhaps it has already begun, considering that the books have outgrown my study (Husband calls it the “book cave” which is really unfair as there is lots of lovely natural light streaming in) and the TBR bookcase is in the dining area. Here is a picture, which is now dated; it’s all full up these days…


Some days I just carry my regular work bag, which only allows a book or two along with my lunch and personal effects. But some days I carry a supplemental book bag. Like today. Today I’m bringing home…


Starting upper left and going clockwise:

Hotel du Lac by Anita Brookner. My interest is inspired by Thomas at My Porch, and I’m nearing the end of it now and very well pleased.

The Heretic’s Daughter by Kathleen Kent. Katy at A Few More Pages has written up this and other of Kent’s books, and I’m intrigued.

These Things Hidden by Heather Gudenkauf, which I’ve had my eye on for a while now. Now, litlove (at Tales From the Reading Room) did take issue with this book, calling it commercial fiction. But I’m still interested.

The Red House Mystery by A.A. Milne. The one and only mystery from the author of Winnie the Pooh etc.? I’m sold.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. I’ve never read it (gasp!) and want to; plus I saw this post the other day at Savidge Reads and got a final nudge.

Without Fail by Lee Child. My current genre favorite; he hasn’t let me down yet. It’s always good to have some light pleasure reading lying around!

By-Line: Ernest Hemingway has been discussed here before. I’m still not quite done.

Gone Tomorrow by Lee Child on audio. This is in the car right now. More of my current genre guy.

And… Tales from Watership Down by Richard Adams. On the long list of books I’ve always vaguely intended to read, so I grab when I can.

It’s a dangerous world when you spend over 40 hours/week in a library!!

Most treasured.

I’m acting on a nudge from Sheila today, over at Book Journey. She did a lovely post about her very most treasured (physical) book, and asked her readers what they treasure. I found her story of her father’s death,and the loss of most of his possessions, very touching and very (obviously) sad, and I was relieved to find the good reason why she’s never read her most prized and treasured book: it’s a Vietnamese/English dictionary, thus not the sort of thing you read cover to cover. Got it. At any rate, it got me thinking.

I think it’s probably obvious that I treasure physical books. Most reading-bloggers undoubtedly do! Even those who have embraced e-readers (and I haven’t, yet, but all things are possible and I’m not ragingly anti) feel the value of “real” books. I love books. But my most treasured? I think, like Sheila, my favorite books came from my parents. I don’t have as striking a story to go with mine as she does (and thank goodness, I still have both of my parents) but I do have a small collection of older editions that I am very fond of, and will be very sad when they finally, completely fall apart. Like these:

I think my very most favorite is the battered hardcover copy of The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, on the bottom.

Sheila, thanks for asking!

Shoot Him If He Runs by Stuart Woods (audio)

I tried Stuart Woods out because he’s popular with some of my library patrons and I want to be as well-rounded as possible, especially in the mystery genre which is my personal favorite.

Shoot Him If He Runs sees Stone Barrington return to the scene of earlier action on the small Caribbean island of St. Mark’s with ex-girlfriend and CIA spy Holly Barker. There is governmental corruption (no mysteries there); there are vodka gimlets, nude beaches, beautiful people, and other accoutrement of the good life; there is a a very talented former-CIA spy, master of disguise, now thorn-in-the-side of the CIA, who Stone and Holly are trying to find and identify. There is no action, terrible dialog, no intrigue, a tiny touch of gratuitous and pointless sex, undeveloped characters and unexplained lose ends. I don’t know what to say that’s nice about this book. I fell asleep during some of the most important parts, but I don’t think it mattered (the Husband was driving and therefore presumably awake throughout and could name no redeeming features) and is only a statement of my feelings about the action. I guessed what was coming at about halfway through. Then I went to sleep.

I’m sorry, Stuart Woods. I wanted to see what so many of my older male patrons like about you, but I just didn’t.

I’m pretty sure I won’t pick up another Stuart Woods novel again unless I’m in serious book-deprived distress, but that’s a state I’m generally able to avoid.


Edit: I asked Husband to share his perspective for us, and he said “It’s no Reacher. [referring to Lee Child’s Jack Reacher series we both love so much] No suspense.” There you have it, folks: the succinct review. Well put, Husband.