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Executive Times |
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2006 Book Reviews |
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The New
Woman by Jon Hassler |
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Rating: |
*** |
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(Recommended) |
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Click on
title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Transitions For almost three
decades, Jon Hassler has provided readers with fine
novels set in Agatha went up to her apartment after supper,
then thought better of it and went down again to the Rinkwitz’s
apartment and knocked on the door. She was welcomed in by Joe, who said,
“Ah, the new woman.” “I’m sorry to bother you,”
she said. “I wanted to speak to your wife.” “She’s still cleaning up in
the dining room, but she’ll be here in a minute. Please sit down.” Turning to
lead her over to a pair of chairs in front of a large TV screen, he seemed to
trip but caught himself, bracing his shoulder against the wall. “Sorry,” he
said. “My balance isn’t what it should be.” Analytically looking him up
and down, she asked, “Are you dizzy?” “No, no dizziness. It’s
just that my muscles don’t always support me when I turn around.” “I see.” They continued to
make their way over to the chairs. Agatha was
fascinated by all the things hanging on the walls and crowded on shelves.
“My, what a lot of—” she began. “Junk,” he finished for
her. “It’s all crafty stuff. You see, my wife runs the craft workshop every
Saturday and the residents are forever giving her presents.” He shrugged
helplessly, looking about the room. “This is the latest,” he said, plugging
in an extension cord attached to a pyramid of baby-food jars in the shape of
a Christmas tree. Suddenly it was lit by a tiny bulb in each jar. “Well, isn’t that clever,”
said Agatha. “Yes, isn’t it,” Joe said,
with irony showing in his eyes. “Addie Greeno brought it in this week. I tell my wife she’s
going to have to declare a moratorium on this stuff, or it will squeeze us
out and we’ll have to move into a different apartment.” Agatha sat down on the edge of one of the
chairs while Joe fell into the other. “I’ll tell you why I stopped by,” she
said. “I’ve lost a precious piece of jewelry and I suspect a robber took it.” Joe was silent, waiting for
her to go on. “So, I’ve been looking over
your residents, trying to pick out the thief.” “Yes? And what have you
found?” “Nobody yet. That’s why I
was hoping that you and your wife might help me out.” “We had a thief here once;
his name was Gerald Hughes. He died many years ago. He was senile, poor
man—took things he couldn’t possibly use. When we cleaned out his apartment,
we found a dozen salt and pepper shakers, for example.” “It’s somebody who has a
key, because I keep my door locked at all times.” Little Edna came breezing
into the room, removing her apron and greeting Agatha
with a broad smile and a pat on the shoulder. She said, “I tell you, Addie Greeno will drive me insane
one of these days. She won’t let me go another day without putting a sign up
in the dining room about people’s eating habits. She’s offended by the way
John Beezer chews with his mouth open.” Joe told his wife about the
new woman’s suspicions, which she dismissed with a laugh. Agatha, offended, stood up and said, “Of
course you think I’m suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, but I assure you
that although I will turn eighty-eight next fall, I am in my right mind when
I say I suspect that I have been robbed.” She angrily made for the
door, a move she regretted when Joe hurried to see her out and fell down, his
cane skittering ahead of him across the carpet. “Damn it,” he sighed at her
feet, causing her to back away from him. “This happens every time I hurry.” Little Edna came to help
him up, telling Agatha that she’d warned him a
hundred times not to hurry. “Every time he walks fast he freezes and falls
down.” “Just starting out,” Joe
explained. “Once I get going I’m fine.” Getting to his feet with surprising agility,
and taking his cane from Agatha, he added, “Thank
you, Miss McGee. This is my three hundred and second fall in the last three
years.” “Goodness, you keep a
tally, do you?” “No, no need of that. It
happens often enough so that I can easily remember the number of the last
one.” “And how many bones have
you broken?” “None, miraculously. But I
could show you some bruises.” “Spare me,” said Agatha, taking her leave. Crossing the lobby, she
picked up an old issue of Newsweek from
the lamp table between the two chairs that stood facing the outside doorway.
She carried it up on the elevator to her apartment, where she discovered
that the lead article had to do with national defense and was dated July 5, 1977. A twenty-year-old newsmagazine is ancient history, she thought as
she sat down in her rocker and noticed a few flakes of snow blowing past her
window. Paging absently through the spread on national defense—bombs,
rockets, aircraft carriers—she was amazed at how her interests had changed in
the last couple of years. Time was when she’d have been fascinated by this
subject, perhaps even written her congressman and senators about it. Dear Mr. Wellstone, Just a note to make
sure you understand the folly of spending millions of our hard-got money on
another aircraft carrier. Now she couldn’t seem to spare any attention
for affairs outside her immediate surroundings. She was ashamed to think that
she’d had nothing on her mind all day but her lost brooch. Her eye was caught by
mention of the MX missile, which was ready to fire and carried on a train
that never stopped. That way the enemy would never know where to fire the
first strike to knock it out. How
novel, thought Agatha, and how preposterous. She didn’t read further to discover that
this train traveled only a few miles on a circular track in a western desert.
She imagined the MX missile carried round the country, across the South, up
the East Coast and then west through the upper tier of states, including Later, retiring to bed, she
had a strange dream in which her brooch was carried around the country on a
train. Later she woke briefly and thought, I must tell Lillian about this; she’s always interested in dreams. The New
Woman will bring smiles to readers, and may even lead to re-reading some
of the earlier books in the Staggerford series. Hassler’s writing masters character, setting and
dialogue. Readers want to become part of the lives of these interesting
people, and to become a part of the special place they’ve made in the world. Steve Hopkins,
January 25, 2006 |
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The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the February 2006
issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/The
New Woman.htm For Reprint Permission,
Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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