If Christmas Trees Could Talk (Revised version 2024)

 As a late December sun was gracefully sinking below the village church opposite their cosy little cottage, Edith and Isabel were putting the final touches to their Christmas tree.

“That looks grand,” Edith said, and she gave her sister an affectionate hug.

“Now we've got to see this from outside,” Isabel urged and despite the cold, they rushed out to have a look.

They were pleased with what they saw: the tree nestling prettily in the window alcove of their front room.

“If anyone was passing by,” Isabel asked, “what would our tree tell them about us?”

“Well,” Edith deliberated, “ the occupants have wonderfully artistic taste and . . . ”

“ . . . don't like hoovering,” Isabel added, “because the tree is artificial!”

The two giggled like school-children as they made their way inside.

“I never thought I'd be happy again after Henry died,” Edith said to her sister.

“Nor me with Norman,” Isabel sighed, and the two sisters shared a sad moment remembering their much loved husbands.

It was Isabel who broke the mood. “This is our chance of a new start and it's going to be just fine and dandy. So come on, let's have supper and afterwards we're going to do some detective work.”

“Detective work?” Edith asked, intrigued by the suggestion.

“We're going to wrap up warmly and take a walk around the village, unashamedly window-gazing to guess what other people's Christmas trees tell us about them.”

Edith chuckled. “Now that sounds a lot of fun . . . just as long as we don't get arrested as potential burglars!”

“Two senior citizens taking an evening stroll?” Isabel queried. “I very much doubt it. Although,” she added mischievously, “stranger things have happened.”

Meanwhile, three doors away, Beth was just taking the Christmas cake out of the oven when Leo stomped into the kitchen.

“I don't believe it,” he grumbled. “You know how this tree is supposed to keep its needles on. Well, it jolly well doesn't.

“I've just taken the webbing off and most of the needles fell onto the floor, so now the tree's practically bare.”

Beth placed the cake carefully on the cooling rack and turned to face her irate husband.

“Oh dear, let's have a look,” she said, lacing her arm around Leo's waist.

As soon as they walked into the front room, Beth started to laugh. “You're right, it looks as if the tree has been dive-bombed by a crazy bird.”

Leo began to see the funny side too. “As soon as I touched it, what looked like spiky green snow hurtled downwards, and now we've got a green forest on our new carpet.”

“I'm sure the garden centre will change it,” Beth reasoned. “Let's leave it here overnight and you can take it back tomorrow.”

“What would I do without you?” Leo said affectionately, kissing his wife on the top of her head.

“I dread to think,” she teased. “Now come and have a look at my Christmas cake. I think it's going to be my best yet.”

Having been fortified by Edith's steak and kidney pudding, Isabel and Edith strolled around the village arm-in-arm.

Most people had their Christmas trees in their front rooms so the sisters had plenty to assess.

“This is such fun,” Edith said as they came full circle back to their own street. “What a good idea this was of yours, Isabel. Don't all these beautiful trees come into their own when it's dark outside. The village looks quite magical.

“And what a surprise,” she added. “Just like snowflakes, every Christmas tree is different.”

“Yes,” Isabel replied, “although I can definitely see a pattern emerging.”

Edith laughed. “You might be retired now, Isabel, but once a teacher always a teacher. So go on, tell me about these patterns.”

“First we have the neat and tidy trees with just the right number of decorations. They tell us that their owners are very organised with everything in its right place. If they have children, they certainly don't rule the roost.

“Then there are the trees brimming over with home-made decorations and smothered with tinsel. These are obviously family homes. Untidy and noisy, but full of love.

“Next are the small artificial trees with a minimum of decorations, rather like ours. These are people who don't like a lot of bother at Christmas . . . ”

“ . . . or,” Edith chuckled, “are Senior Citizens like us, so they're bound to be very nice people.”

“And lastly,” Isabel said, with some irritation in her voice, “there are the trees with flashing lights, which make me feel quite giddy.

“The people inside are very thoughtless. They forget that they aren't the only ones to see their trees, and not everyone likes flashing lights.”

“That's a bit harsh,” Edith responded, and then, after a pause, “but very true.”

“I think we've had a most productive walk,” Isabel said, “but now it's time to head home and back into the warmth.”

But the two sisters stopped short when they reached Leo and Beth's home, just a few cottages away from their own.

“Oh dear,” said Isabel. “This is a most unusual tree and it certainly doesn't fit into any of my categories.

“It looks like it was once a Christmas tree, but there are hardly any pine needles on it and absolutely no sign of any decorations.”

“Perhaps they'll decorate the tree later,” Edith suggested, “although they'll have to hang their decorations on the bare branches and twigs.”

“Quite so,” Isabel said. “I think we deserve a large mug of hot chocolate after all our detective work.”

“Perhaps with a dribble of brandy?” Edith suggested. “It is Christmas after all.”

The next day, a jubilant Leo arrived home from the garden centre and headed straight to the back of the cottage, carrying a brand new Christmas tree.

Beth saw him from the kitchen window and popped out to greet him. “I see you had a successful trip,” she said.

“I did indeed. They couldn't have been nicer,” Leo replied happily. “They gave me this tree and suggested I stand it in a bucket of water and leave it over-night outside.

“Since there'll be a frost tonight, I'll put it in the back porch so at least it has some protection.”

“What will we do with the skeleton tree?” Beth asked.

“It's going by the dustbin at the side of the cottage,” Leo said firmly, “so we don't have to look at it. The garden centre said that they'll pick up both trees in January.

“I was very lucky,” he added. “This was the last tree they had left.”

As Leo dealt with both trees, Beth topped her Christmas cake with a rich layer of golden marzipan.

Then she went outside again and hugged her husband. “I couldn't be happier,” she murmured, breathing in the comforting smell of his jumper which was infused with the fresh smell of pine.

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with excitement. “This is our first Christmas in our new home and it's all going so well. Apart, of course, from the tree!”

That evening, Edith and Isabel took another stroll around the village before settling down for some festive evening television. Passers-by exchanged greetings and the two sisters were beginning to feel less like newcomers.

But when they came to Leo and Beth's cottage, they stopped in dismay.

“This is ridiculous!” Isabel exclaimed, as they stared at the empty front room and the abandoned Christmas tree outside next to a bin. “Who in their right mind would do such a thing?”

“Deary me,” Edith said with a sigh. “I do hope everything's alright.”

The next afternoon, Leo took the new tree into the front room and gingerly took the protective netting off. He breathed a big sigh of relief.

“Beth,” he called, “this tree looks to be okay. The needles are most definitely staying on.”

“Good,” Beth replied as she applied stiff white icing sugar onto the cake.

But then she heard a wailing noise which had her rushing into the front room, fearful that Leo had seriously hurt himself.

“Are you alright, Leo?” she cried, but then she stopped in her tracks. The tree was tilting at a dangerous angle with Leo desperately hanging onto it to prevent it toppling over.

“The trunk is too thick for the tripod,” he gasped, exhausted by the effort he was exerting.

“Lean it against the window,” Beth suggested.

“Good thinking,” he replied, and with some careful manoeuvring he managed to do just that and was able to let the tree go.

Beth stood by his side and the two surveyed the scene.

“It looks like a ship's mast in a storm,” Beth said. “We really aren't having much luck with our trees.”

Leo started to grin. “Maybe not but I'm not going to let this one get the better of me. I'll tackle it tomorrow when I'm not so dog-gone tired.”

There was a full moon as Isabel and Edith embarked upon their now regular evening walk. It was like a friendly face beaming down at them and they felt full of Christmas good will.

But when they reached Leo and Beth's cottage, that warm, cheery feeling evaporated.

“This really does take the biscuit, Edith,” Isabel grumbled. “That's definitely a Christmas tree in their front room but it's leaning against the window and, I might add, without decorations.”

“Perhaps whoever lives here is an artist,” Edith speculated. “One of those modern ones who like to make a dramatic statement.”
“Or a lunatic,” Isabel retorted. “It's making me feel quite unsettled. What we need is a hot chocolate with a hearty dose of brandy. That will certainly do the trick, but I hardly dare think about what we'll see here tomorrow.”

The next day was Christmas Eve. Whilst Leo was cutting the tree trunk so that it fitted snugly into the tripod, Beth lovingly positioned a small Santa on a sleigh, surrounded by holly, on the top of her cake.

Then together they hung little wooden Christmas figures evenly around the tree. Leo wound a simple string of white lights over the branches and, finally, right at the top of the tree, Beth placed a radiant angel in white and gold with a silver star above her head.

“Simple but beautiful,” was Beth's verdict. “And we've done it, we've actually finished our tree just in time for Christmas.”

That evening Isabel and Edith were beaming with delight as they looked upon the transformed Christmas tree.

“It's stunning,” Edith said, feeling more than a little emotional.

“Who'd have believed it?” Isabel murmured softly. “It's perfect.”

At that very moment, Leo opened the front door.

“Can I help you?” he asked, perhaps a little sharper than he intended.
“Oh dear,” Edith replied, embarrassment flushing from her neck into her face.

“We didn't mean to be rude looking into your room. We live a few doors away and we were admiring your beautiful Christmas tree. Those little figures are exquisite. We've never seen anything like them before.”

Now it was Leo's turn to feel embarrassed. “That's so kind of you,” he said, a smile replacing the frown.

“We bought them at a Christmas market in Winchester. They are rather special, aren't they. But we've had a devil of a job with our Christmas trees. Thankfully, we got this one ready in time.”

“Is that so,” Isabel uttered innocently.

Beth was now at the front door.

“Did I hear nice things about our tree?”

“It is truly beguiling,” Edith said with passion.

“Why don't you come inside and try out my Christmas cake?” Beth suggested. “And perhaps a sherry to go with it?”

“Good idea,” Leo agreed, basking in all the praise.

“Aren't you too busy?” Isabel asked. “We don't want to impose.” Although the idea did sound very tempting.

“We've just moved here,” Beth explained, “so it'll be nice to get to know some of our neighbours.”

“And we've just moved here, too,” both sisters said in unison.

“Well, that settles it,” Leo said. “Let the Christmas celebrations begin.”

As they made their way inside, Isabel whispered to Edith, “Absolutely no mention about our crazy speculations!”

“Just goes to show,” Edith whispered back, “how easy it is to jump to the wrong conclusions. But it was fun while it lasted.”

On their way home, Edith asked Isabel, “So what's Leo and Beth's Christmas tree telling us now?”

Isabel thought about it for a while and then answered, “That tree is telling us that it's very lucky to be upright and that its owners are very persistent.”

And the two chuckled happily, knowing that this was going to be a very special Christmas.

The Christmas of the Scarlet Ribbons (revised version 2024)

 It was late afternoon on Christmas Eve and Lily was sitting comfortably in her armchair in the snug next to the window.

The sky had been a clear blue all day and now that the sun was setting, there were streaks of pink-purple zigzagging dramatically over the village green, the Norman church, and the row of oak trees opposite Lily's cottage.

Lily had enjoyed the day: church in the morning, a stroll around the village greeting all she met with a “Merry Christmas”, a lunch of soup and sandwiches, and then an afternoon's entertainment with Radio Four.

There had been a dramatised ghost story, always a favourite with Lily, and then the uplifting annual Carol Service from King's College, Cambridge.

What better way was there to spend Christmas Eve before the hurley-burley of Christmas Day with too much food, too much television and the frenetic excitement of the grandchildren with too many presents?

Lily loved it all.

With her radio now off, she indulged in one of her favourite Christmas Eve pastimes - remembering the Christmases of her youth, when her parents and brother had still been alive.

She closed her eyes and allowed the most precious memory of all to float into her mind: The Christmas of the Scarlet Ribbons.

She had been six and brother Teddy eight, and her parents were hosting their annual Christmas Eve party.

After bath time, the two of them were in their pyjamas and supposedly tucked up in bed, fast asleep.

But they had discovered the year before that if they huddled themselves together close to the bannisters at the top of the stairs, they could see the guests arriving.

Rationing after the war had only just finished so food was still in short supply and the money to buy it even scarcer, but every guest arrived with a dish of edible goodies to place on the dining room table.

Lily smiled at the memory.

When push came to shove, you didn't need much money to host a good party. Good friends was what it took and that was something money couldn't buy.

Lily had sent her request to Santa Claus weeks ago. Dear Santa, please can I have those Scarlett Ribbons for my hair. That's all I want. Love from Lily xxx

The Scarlett Ribbons had been displayed in the window of the haberdashery store on the High Street, and Lily thought them the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

How wonderful they would be tied at the ends of her pigtails. They would match her blonde hair perfectly and everyone would say how pretty she looked.

“I do hope Santa will bring me those Scarlett Ribbons,” she had said to her mother as she was being dragged away from the window.

“Perhaps he will,” Mother had replied, tugging Lily even harder, “but only if you're a really good girl.”

Lily had tried as hard as she could to be a good girl, so even when Teddy had been mean to her, she hadn't retaliated in her usual way.

“Stop wriggling,” Teddy hissed, bringing her back down to earth on the stairs. “Someone will see you if you move around and then we'll be banished to our bedrooms.”

“I'm not wriggling,” Lily hissed back. “I'm just moving your foot, which has been digging into me for ages.”

Mother appeared from the kitchen and the two shut their mouths tightly.

She was carrying a plate piled high with small sausages, tinned pineapple pieces and squares of Cheddar cheese pierced into little sticks.

As soon as she had disappeared into the dining room, Lily whispered, “I know we've had supper, but the sight of all this food has made my stomach ready for more.”

“We can always creep downstairs to have a midnight feast when Mother and Father are asleep,” Teddy suggested. “There's bound to be loads of food left.”

“We might even bump into Santa,” Lily said, excitement rippling through her body. “With my Scarlett Ribbons all wrapped up in Christmas paper,” she added.

“That's a chance I'm prepared to take,” Teddy declared confidently, and Lily giggled happily.

“And doesn't mother look beautiful,” she breathed.

Mother did indeed look beautiful.

She was wearing a pretty salmon coloured dress with a round neck and short sleeves. It fitted neatly into her waist and then flowed down past her knees in waves of soft material.

Her auburn hair had been styled specially for the party, and with glittering gold coloured ear-rings and necklace she looked like a Movie Star.

Lily wanted to be a Movie Star when she was older, which, to her way of thinking, would be much more fun than being a train driver, which was Teddy's ambition.

Someone had put the radio on and there was Lily's favourite song - Scarlett Ribbons by Harry Belafonte.

Her parents liked listening to the radio. Usually it was boring talk but sometimes, like now, it was popular music, which Lily adored.

Scarlett Ribbons for her hair wafted up the stairs.

Lily wanted those Scarlett Ribbons so much that it almost hurt.

Suddenly the door bell rang and Lily and Teddy shrank back like peas squeezing back into the pod.

And there was Father, looking so handsome in his best suit, pristinely white shirt and red tie, welcoming the latest arrivals.

It was John and Dorothy Clarke, their next door neighbours, with a large bowl of trifle.

Trifle!

Lily and Teddy loved trifle and they could almost taste it as they looked down on it.

Dorothy disappeared into the dining room with that enticing trifle while father hung up their coats.

Then Father and John huddled together, whispering in the hallway like spies for what seemed like an eternity.

Since they both taught at the nearby Boys Approved School - Father teaching Maths and Woodwork, and John History and Geography - Lily guessed that it was something to do with school.

But why they wanted to talk about school at a Christmas Eve party was a mystery to her.

Lily and Teddy hardly dared breathe for fear of being discovered, but Father and John eventually moved into the sitting room to join the party, and the two children let out a restrained sigh of relief.

Now there was the sound of laughter coming from the sitting room, and Father walking the family dog, Sandy, by the collar and straight into the kitchen, saying as he did so, “You can pee on the trees in the garden, you cheeky rascal, but not on our Christmas tree.”

A blast of cold air told the two children that the back door had been opened and presumably Sandy had been shoved outside, hopefully to learn from his mistake.

“Has Sandy done a wee on the Christmas tree?” Lily asked Teddy, eyes wide at the thought, and Teddy nodded. And the two had to work hard not to laugh out loud.

Lily didn't know when she fell asleep on Teddy's shoulder, but she was awoken by Mother's soft voice. “Now it really is time for you scallywags to go to bed.”

The next morning, Lily awoke feeling so hungry that she knew she hadn't crept down to devour the left-overs.

But that didn't matter because she saw that Santa had snuck in during the night with a pillowcase full of presents.

There it was at the end of her bed, and there was Teddy bounding into her room with his own pillowcase.

They were allowed to open these presents by themselves, before breakfast, and they did so with an intensity known only to children.

But there was nothing there resembling Scarlett Ribbons, even though they had disappeared from the shop window the previous day.

Lily's only consolation was the cowboy set from Auntie Joan via Santa. Goodie . . . she could pretend to be The Lone Ranger.

However, that joy was short-lived.

Teddy had received a nurse's kit also from Auntie Joan, and their parents reckoned that she'd got the labels mixed up.

Consequently, the presents were swapped and a very disappointed Lily pushed the nurse's kit under her bed in disgust.

Christmas lunch was a veritable feast: golden roast chicken, which was a speciality only for Christmas, creamy mashed potatoes, carrots and sprouts, with a rich onion gravy.

As always, the highlight of the meal was the Christmas pudding with a sprig of holly on the top. Father poured brandy over it and then set it alight, much to everyone's delight. And Mother always made more than enough white sauce so there would be plenty of seconds.

Teddy almost broke his front tooth when he bit into the threepenny bit hidden in his serving, but when he displayed the coin triumphantly with his tooth intact, they all laughed with the sheer joy of it all.

Then, after lunch, there was the revealing of the main present for each child.

Teddy was ushered outside the front door where his brand new two-wheeled bike awaited him.

His happiness was heart-warming to see, and after thanking his parents repeatedly, he was on that bike and zooming up and down the road, whooping with pleasure as he did so.

Lily waited with growing expectancy until her parents beckoned her into the kitchen.

Now she would find those Scarlett Ribbons waiting for her on the table . . . but what she saw instead thrust all thoughts of those stupid ribbons right out of her mind.

In front of her was the most incredible doll's house she had ever seen.

It was on two floors with two rooms on each floor, wallpaper covering the walls, and perfectly crafted pieces of furniture in each room.

Even more amazing were the four tiny figures sitting at the dining table. There was a mother, a father and two children, plus a sandy coloured dog lying by the pretend fire.

The outside was painted white and had a red roof and chimney, window frames and front door.

Lily stood in awe. Only Father could have made this work of wonder because it was identical to her drawings of her perfect house.

“Thank you, daddy,” she mumbled through tears of joy. “You're the best daddy ever.”

The sky was now jet-black-dark and shimmering stars were making patterns in the sky. It was getting chilly in the snug and Lily put another log on the fire, wiping away a tear as she did so.

That had been her best ever Christmas.

She had played with her doll's house endlessly, making up stories as she moved furniture and figures around.

No wonder then that she had become a successful author.

Much better to use your brains, she had decided when she was older, rather than relying on looks.

The secretive whisperings between John and her father? They had been discussing how to move the doll's house from John's house, where father had constructed it, to their home after the Christmas lunch.

So no surprise either that Lily's novels were about families, friends and secrets.

As for Teddy, he had followed his dream to become a train driver. Then he had been promoted to Station Master, and finally an advisor to the Secretary For Transport in the government.

And the Scarlett Ribbons?

When Lily returned to school after the Christmas break, one of her friends was wearing Scarlett Ribbons in her hair . . . and lily didn't bat a wink.

How could she compare cheap nylon ribbons which would quickly fray around the edges with a doll's house made especially for her by her father and still in good working order?

In fact, it was waiting in the corner of the sitting room for her grandchildren to play with the next day . . . their wonderful Christmas Day with their wonderful Grandma Lily.

Copyright 2024 Maggie Knutson

MY NEW BOOK REVIEW . . . NONE OF THIS IS TRUE by LISA JEWELL

I don't normally spend great chunks of time reading a novel during the day; I'm a woman . . . I'm busy. But I could hardly put this psychological crime thriller down because I was hooked right from the word go. It's written with the lightest of touches, almost as if it's chick-lit . . . but it's most certainly not chick-lit.

It all kicks off on Saturday 8th June 2019 in a trendy London gastropub where two women are celebrating their forty-fifth birthdays with their families. 

The more attractive, popular and successful woman - Alix Summers (and of course why wouldn't she be given her upbeat name) -  is with her husband, two children, three sisters and their husbands, plus close friends, and they're having a ball. Champagne, presents, balloons, lots of excited chatter, other diners are drawn to this noisy, happy group, and why wouldn't they be. I've seen plenty of similar party groups and it's very easy to assume that people like this have exceedingly happy and exciting lives. 

Alix in particular seems to have it all: stunning good looks, tanned, tall, slim, trendy ice-blonde hair, fabulous clothes and jewellery, doting husband, nice kids and supportive sisters. The stuff of chick-lit but, as I said, this is not chick-lit. Is she as nice as she appears to be, though, and is her family as perfect as it seems to be?

Our second birthday girl is Josie Fair, who has more of a quiet attraction or so Alix thinks. She's particularly taken with Josie's long wavy auburn hair and brown eyes which are almost black. Josie is with her husband, Walter, who's so much older than her that he looks more like her father than husband, wearing new clothes still creased out of their wrappings. Eating out is not what they usually do and it shows. 

We learn very little about Walter to begin with, although more about Alix's husband, Nathan, who's an estate agent dealing with top-end properties. Although he earns a lot of money, physically he doesn't appear to be the kind of man that a stylish, beautiful woman like Alix would be attracted to:  his unruly shock of bright red hair, undescript face and white, shapeless legs rather like school boy, are hardly flattering attributes. 

There's just one birthday present for Josie and a simple meal compared with the many plates of food which keep arriving at Alix's table, plus very little in the way of conversation So right from the beginning, the two birthday parties and the two birthday girls couldn't be more different.

Josie is so immediately fascinated by Alix Summers that she Googles her name on her mobile while she's sitting at her table (she knows her name because the waitress called it out) and learns that Alix is a successful podcaster whose subjects are highly successful women. So as soon as Alix retreats to the cloakroom, Josie follows her, announces that they are birthday twins and invites Alix to the clothes alteration business where she works because she has an interesting proposition for her.

Intrigued by this, Alix does visit Josie. She's looking for a way to expand her podcast business and when Josie tells her that she wants to totally change her life and for Alix to document this, Alix takes the bait. Particularly when Josie hints at dark secrets she wishes to reveal.

'Don't do it, Alix !!!' many readers will already be shouting at the pages of the novel. Because Josie Fair is a seriously spooky person who quite clearly has a will of iron. From her eccentric denim wardrobe to the aggressive Pomchi look-a-like dog she carries in a dog carrier to her relentless worming her way into Alix's life, she appears to be a person to avoid not embrace.

But Alix thinks that a podcast centred around Josie is a potential big hit and so the Hi! I'm Your Birthday Twin podcast begins to take shape. Every day Josie makes her way from her dingy council flat to Alix's fabulously stunning Edwardian house to tell her story in Alix's recording studio in her garden.

And what a story it is. Married at seventeen to Walter, who she met when she was just thirteen, with a daughter, Roxy, who ran away from home when she was sixteen, and another daughter, Erin, who stays in her untidy, smelly bedroom gaming on her computer all day. Erin has never eaten solid food and lives off baby food in jars and tubs of deserts, which Josie religiously prepares for her every day and leaves outside her room on a tray. Really? The word gross comes to mind.

We learn about Josie and her family bit by bit and not in massive detail.  In fact, Jewel's writing style of less is more threads its way throughout the novel, and Jewell forces us to speculate for ourselves rather than tell us straight off . . .  and it works. We want to learn more so we keep turning those pages, which is very clever writing.

Is Walter is a paedophile? Are the girls nightmare daughters? Is Josie a tragic victim?  One thing is for sure: this is a highly dysfunctional family.

The story unfolds through day by day by accounts of the two women and extracts of Alix's interviews, including details of lighting and props, not just with Josie but also the people she's come in contact with. It's an effective technique, adding variety to the delivery of the story, and I particularly enjoyed these chapters because it was refreshing to hear the interviewees talking so freely. 

BUT at the back of the reader's mind is the title of the novel - NONE OF THIS IS TRUE.

So what is true? And who is not telling the truth?

You'll have to read the novel to find out. I hope I've given enough background to have wetted your interest but not enough to spoil the read. And there is a lot of violence I should add - this is, after all, a crime novel- but Jewell doesn't go into too much gruesome detail. Again she lets your imagination run riot. 

So what is it about this novel that I so like?

The immediate hook for me was Alix Summers. I can't remember ever understanding and sympathising with a character so much. Firstly, although I'm an author, I'm also a journalist and blogger so I appreciate that desire to get a big story, which is what drives Alix despite all the warnings signs. Secondly, she reminded me of Mollie King, the Saturdays girl band member and Radio One D.J. in appearance, charisma, openness, happy family and life style. But that's where the similarity ends, I should add straight away. However, it meant that I had a picture in my mind of Alix which in some way helped me to understand and relate to her.

And then there's Jewell's writing style which has to be amongst the best in contemporary crime writing: fluent and seemingly effortless but packing an enormous punch to the gut as she allows the story to slowly unfold. Every detail, every description, adds to the story without being over-flowery or over-dramatic. Economical writing is a good way to describe it and believe me, that's not easy to achieve.

I previously read an earlier novel by Jewell - The Family Upstairs - which is different in structure but just as powerful. It was because I enjoyed this novel that I chose to read None Of This Is True. Jewell has also written a further nineteen novels, which means that there are more novels for me to read. 

And she's been noticed in Hollywood. In 2022 she was commissioned by Disney to write a full-length novel for Marvel. It'll be the first novel in a new series called Marvel Crime, using the existing character of Jessica Jones, a private investigator. This is a new genre for Jewell to tackle and she admits that it's been quite a challenge. Titled Breaking the Dark, it comes out in July 2024. Guess who'll be reading it.

And finally, and this is just on a personal level, Jewell is a dog lover and has just adopted a rescue dog from Romania. No surprise then that there are two dogs in None Of This Is True. I'm also a dog lover and in the process of editing my two fun fantasy novels which have dogs (and a cat) as main characters. If I can write anywhere near as well as Jewell I'll be a very happy woman.

Something really spooky happened while I was researching Lisa Jewell which I'm going to tell you about because we all need to be vigilant when using the internet. From time to time I've been getting a Facebook Friend request plus messages by someone calling themselves Robert Tammy. He claims to be an ex-military American and apparently likes what I write on Facebook and would like to get to know me better !!! These messages are interspersed with flower emojis and since I'm highly suspicious of such requests,  I've always immediately declined such offers of friendship. 

So, Lisa Jewell's Facebook site is available for all to see and I decided to write a brief message on her post about None Of This Is True saying how much I liked the novel. Imagine my horror, then, when I was notified that Robert Tammy had posted a message to me right after my message to Lisa Jewell on HER Facebook site. 

By the time I showed this to my husband, the message had disappeared but re-appeared after a comment from another woman on this post, changing my name to hers !!!  My husband photographed the message and reported it to Facebook so I'm hoping that it'll be investigated.

Robert Tammy is probably a made-up name, his smiling photograph not his, and it could even be a woman or a group of people who are looking for easy targets to con out of money at some stage, or, even worse, to arrange a meet.  And the irony is that this scenario could easily be part of a Lisa Jewell novel. So be warned . . . anyone can be the target of such despicable people.

MY NEW BOOK REVIEW: VERA WONG'S Unsolicited Advice for Murderers . . . by Jesse Sutanto (published in 2023 by Harper Collins)

I found this novel in the book section of my local Sainsbury's, thought the cover was eye catching and the title interesting, flicked through and read a few paragraphs, liked what I was reading and bought a copy, despite having never heard of the author before. And as soon as I started reading it, I was hooked. And that hook was VERA WONG.

Vera runs a most unusual teahouse called VERA WONG'S WORLD FAMOUS TEAHOUSE in Chinatown, San Francisco, although it's far from being world famous. It's dingy, uninviting and claustrophobic, with grubby windows and just one customer: ALEX, an elderly Chinese man with a wife suffering from dementia.

What Vera doesn't know about tea isn't worth knowing. A cabinet containing one hundred and eighty-eight drawers full of high quality tea imported from China completely covers one wall, and everyone who samples her tea agree that Vera makes a mean cup of tea. But Vera's original customers have either moved away or died and she doesn't have the money to modernise the place. In fact, it runs at a loss and Vera has been covering the bills out of her savings, which have dwindled to almost nothing.

But Vera is one hell of a determined woman, with an unshakeable belief in herself and her abilities. Pig-headed, stubborn, judgemental and unable to take no for an answer are just a few of her many qualities.

Still very active at the age of sixty, she takes a brisk walk every morning and then bombards her son, TILLY, with messages e.g. complaining that he sleeps for too long and reminding him to eat. Quite clearly she's disappointed with his lack of contact with her, and she is obviously a very lonely woman.  

But that all changes one morning when she descends from her also small and dingy flat above the shop to find a dead body in the middle of her teahouse. 

That dead body is a young man called MARSHALL. The police don't suspect foul play, but Vera is convinced that he was murdered and so decides to find the murderer by herself. In her opinion, the police are way too incompetent to solve the crime themselves, and Vera is nothing if not self-opinionated. She even unashamedly hides vital evidence from the police. 

That very same day four people arrive at her teahouse, all of whom are connected to Marshall in their own, very different, ways. There's RIKI, a young man who claims to be a reporter; SANA, a nervous young woman; JULIA, Marshall's wife and mother of his young daughter; and OLIVER, Marshall's twin brother.

What becomes very clear is that Marshall was not a nice person, and each of the four visitors had every reason to murder him, but which one is the murderer? Vera befriends them all and then ruthlessly prises out the truth that each one has been desperately hiding from her. And so the story unfolds as the four interact not just with Vera but also with each other. 

Vera keeps notes recording her discoveries and speculations, and I'm going to share with you an excerpt of her notes which reveal something of the way that Vera thinks and also gives a flavour of Sutanto's writing style, which is one of the reasons why I absolutely adore this novel:-

VERA WONG'S MURDER CASE

Victim: Marshall Chen, 29

Cause of death: Unknown

Suspicious signs:

1. Bruise on left cheek (someone punch him??)

2. Scratches on right cheek (someone scratch him!?)

3. Holding a flash drive (WHAT IS INSIDE?! Maybe nuclear code? Is he spy? (KGB?)

4. His fingers swollen. Everything swollen. Like me in third trimester.

5. He has baggie full of DRUGS. You see? Must be a bad person. This is not Hollywood, why is he carrying drugs around?

So scary! EXCITING! I am helpless old lady. What to do? Is my duty to find killer before killer go on rampage. Killer will come back for flash drive. I will identify killer and catch him her them!

Vera also has another weapon in her vast array of tactics. FOOD. Copious amounts of Chinese food, of course, and absolutely mouth watering. She feeds not only her new friends but also the police, arriving at their headquarters armed with a multitude of her home made dishes to tempt the officers into divulging facts about the case. They know that they should send her packing but really, that food is just so darn good.

Of course, Vera does eventually discover the murderer and, for me, it was a big surprise but totally making sense. And all the loose ends involving her four main suspects are neatly resolved, leaving me, the reader, feeling exceedingly happy.

So what is it about Vera that I like so much, given her brutal honesty irrespective of who she's talking to? Well, it's just that . . . her brutal honesty. She says exactly what she's thinking, which is so refreshing, and something I wish I could do more but am often just too polite to do so. Vera is certainly not polite but she has a very big heart. She might annoy the hell out of everyone but she's a lot of fun to be around and there is that glorious food and those perfect cups of tea.

All the other characters are also well-rounded and likeable. So much so that I wondered how Vera would respond (and how I would respond) when she eventually does solve the case. She may be satisfied that she has been right all along but does she regret her discovery?

I've given you the bare bones of the plot and characters, with just a smidgen of spoilers included, so it's up to you, if you so wish, to buy a copy and enjoy the read, probably laughing out loud as you do so. 

My opinion of this novel? 

IT'S ONE OF THE FUNNIEST AND MOST ENJOYABLE NOVELS I'VE EVER READ.

***

Jesse Sutanto is a young (and stunningly beautiful) Chinese-Indonesian writer based in Jakarta, who has already published nine novels for adults, young adults and middle grade readers. Most of her characters are Chinese and she has an astute understanding of the clash of ideas, expectations and behaviour between the older and younger generations within Chinese families. Which makes for fascinating reading.

But here's the strange thing. Because I so loved Vera Wong's Unsolicited Advice for Murderers, I bought two more of her novels and was surprisingly unimpressed. (This is where my brutal honesty kicks in, which is a must for all writers and if it isn't then it should be.)

The first novel was Dial A For Aunties, published in 2021. It won the 2021 Comedy Women in Print Prize and has been optioned for a film by Netflix, so obviously a lot of people enjoyed reading it. But not me. I found the story ridiculous and the main characters irritating. Those aunties didn't even have names but were referred to as numbers so it became a tad confusing.

The second novel was I Haven't Done With You Yet, published in 2023. This was told mainly as narrative with way too much telling and way too little showing. I found the plot exceedingly slow and boring, and I didn't like the main characters.

So how come a writer can produce a brilliant novel like Vera Wong's Unsolicited Advice for Murderers  but doesn't sustain that brilliance in her other novels? I usually finish a novel even if I'm not particularly engaged with it but expecting it will improve, but I had to put these two aside, unfinished. Life really is too short to waste.

Perhaps Sutanto has been experimenting with styles, because the three novels I've mentioned are very different in style, or because she has published to many novels within a short time frame so quality has been sacrificed. Or perhaps I'm just too picky but I'm just telling it as I see it. But the one novel of hers that I love, I really love.

***

Maggie Knutson is a published author, reporter and blogger. Her humorous animal fantasy novel WALKIES and the sequel, THE GREAT ADVENTURE, are soon to be published. If anyone has ever read a really funny animal adventure novel, will you please pass on the title and author so I can assess the competition !!!