Time and Again

by Jack Finney.

Artist Simon Morley is, at worst, only vaguely dissatisfied with his job at an ad agency, drawing bars of soap from every angle, when a total stranger approaches to offer him the chance of a lifetime: to be part of a government project so secret that Si has to say yes or no without even knowing what the project actually does. He says yes, and learns that the mysterious project is investigating the theory that time is not linear, but that all moments exist simultaneously, so that it should be possible for him to walk into the Dakota apartments in New York in the 1970s--and simply walk out in 1882.

Now, I normally try to talk about books without spoilers just in case somebody might want to read one (first rule of book talks for librarians, in fact--one of the things I learned in grad school was how to make a book sound kind of interesting without giving anything vital away). But I have to say something about the ending here, and I think the spoiler statute of limitations on this one ran out long ago.

So here's the thing. I have read a lot of science fiction over the years, and I am also really fond of historical novels, so both sides of this story appealed to me. I have also read a lot of 19th-century novels, so I'm not put off by a leisurely pace. So far, so good; I really enjoyed the story.

But then the author drops a variation of the venerable Grandfather Paradox (TV Tropes link, click with caution) on the very last page, and the narrator just walks away from it without considering the implications at all. Here's the spoiler, if you're interested: he prevents the birth of the scientist who will be in charge of the time travel project in the 1970s, which should have prevented the project and made his own presence in 1882 impossible, and then he just walks away. It drove me nuts, though I couldn't get across to my book club just why I found that so infuriating. 

So maybe it's just me.

Worthy Brown's Daughter

by Phillip Margolin.

Matthew Penny is managing to get by, but he's not one of the most prominent lawyers in 1860 Portland, Oregon. His frequent opponent, Caleb Barbour, is that prominent, largely due to his regular representation of wealthy businessman Benjamin Gillette, but when Barbour's black servant Worthy Brown tips Matthew off that Barbour has bribed the jury in a breach of contract case, Matthew uses the information to settle the case in his client's favor. In return he's more than willing to listen when Worthy comes to him for help in a legal matter of his own: Worthy and his daughter Roxanne were brought to Oregon as Barbour's slaves, and though Worthy was able to successfully negotiate his own freedom under the ban on slavery in Oregon's new state constitution, Barbour is refusing to release Roxanne. Meanwhile, another of Matthew's cases doesn't turn out so well, as he fails to win an acquittal for a man accused of theft when the accuser, a beautiful woman, charms the judge and jury. But Matthew himself never finds Sharon Hill enchanting at all, and he is disturbed to see that she appears to have set her sights on Benjamin Gillette just when Gillette, not best pleased about his regular lawyer's demonstrated crookedness, begins looking around for other representation and seems to be taking an interest in Matthew.

I had never read any of Margolin's contemporary legal thrillers, that not being one of my genres of choice, but this historical novel, based on a real case from mid-19th century Oregon, sounded fascinating. I wasn't disappointed, though the writing style was very different from the kind of novel I usually read: very straightforward, with short sentences and short chapters. That made it go by very quickly, though, and the story was engrossing, particularly in the interlocking moral dilemmas faced by most of the major characters. 

Eighty Days

Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland's History-Making Race Around the World, by Matthew Goodman.

On the morning of November 14, 1889, New York World reporter Nellie Bly set sail for England, aiming to travel around the world in 75 days, just to prove it really could be done. That evening, The Cosmopolitan magazine literary columnist Elizabeth Bisland caught a train for San Francisco, aiming to travel around the world faster than Nellie Bly. Bly had proposed the trip to her editors almost a year earlier, but had only gotten their approval that week; she had three days to get ready. Bisland's editor only came up with the idea of sending her in the opposite direction when he read the World's announcement of Nellie Bly's departure that morning, so Bisland had all of about ten hours to prepare.

I am not sure where I first heard of Nellie Bly, but I've been a fan of hers for years. I read a biography of her some time ago, so I knew about her round-the-world race, and even recognized the name of her competitor Elizabeth Bisland, but a lot of the details were new to me: like the fact that Bisland was shipped off by her editor with less than a day's notice, and Nellie Bly didn't even hear that she had a competitor until she got to Hong Kong, more than halfway home. Fascinating story!