BOOKS

Jislaaik! This is the best one yet! Laugh-out-loud funny … and heartbreaking.

Does Sally Andrew maintain in the second half, the thrust, heft, and momentum she’s established in the book’s first half?

She does not.

She increases and intensifies it!

This is most impressive. The plot works like a Swiss watch movement, everything fits so neatly! Every event moves every other event, and not merely in a straight line but more like a checkerboard or, still more so, a tapestry.

The wordcraft is stupendous throughout! The language is worth reading all for itself, but it’s not only there for itself but also to advance the story and expand the characters. No mean feat!

And I could really go for a slice of that lemon drizzle cake.

– Professor Richard Walter, former Screenwriting Area Head, Associate and Interim Dean, UCLA School of Theatre, Film, and Television

I’ve read all Sally Andrew’s Tannie Maria books and I think this is my favourite.

Before I start, Paige recently asked important questions about how we review local books on this page. Do we rave about what our friends (or we-wish friends) have written, to encourage them and push up sales? Or are we positive for less direct reasons? Maybe we just love reading about our places and our experiences, written by our people. I know I do. It definitely increases my enjoyment of the narrative when there’s a description of Fish Hoek Beach – or Diesel n Crème, in this case. Of course it enriches my reading experience when the main character buys her take-aways from Kalky’s – or, in this case, when Maria is standing at the doughnut counter at the Spar in Ladismith.

So, full disclosure, yes, I have the honour of being friendly with Sally. But honestly, I would have read the Tannie Maria books even if I hadn’t danced and sung with Sally after a dinner party (she’s like that). The covers are dreamy and the concept for the series is clever – especially if you liked the Lady Detective / Mma Ramotswe series by Alexander McCall Smith. The Tannie Maria books are “cosy crimes”. The middle-aged women who solve these cosy crimes don’t interrogate witnesses, they make them tea. They chat to the neighbours. These women go on walks and think about loss and jealousy, desire and anger. They are wise women who don’t rush or get fixated on footprints. They engage their memories. They put themselves in the shoes of everyone in the crime story.

Sally Andrew understands this “wise women” element even better than McCall Smith, in my view. From the first page of the first book (Recipes for Love and Murder), we get it. Maria is older. She has lived a life. She is kind. She is connected: she loves nature and cooking. She loves, she feels. She is curious and clever. She’s brave, she’s a rule-breaker when it warrants. She has deep compassion for the victims. And she’s not a wise woman in a guru kind of way. Maria is active and funny, quirky and experimental.

We have to talk more about the nature and cooking … If the Tannie Maria books don’t make you salivate for mutton stew, marmalade rusks and naartjie-infused milk tart then I’m sorry, you don’t have a pulse. If the descriptions of the bird-filled gwarrie tree, the chickens at dawn, the dusty road to town and the distant Swartberg at sunset don’t make you want to buy a pair of vellies at a padstal and move to the Klein Karoo on your own, then you might not be in possession of a fantasy life.

The reason The Milk Tart Murders is my favourite in the series is that Sally Andrew is clearly not bored by her own concept. In fact, she seems to like Maria more than ever. In this book, Maria is quite down. She’s not performing for us, putting on a messy, red-cheeked cooking show and sprouting country idioms. To put it in an urban way, Maria is having “trust issues in her relationship” – and also in a friendship. She’s scared and she’s not being particularly charming. Maria is, for the first time, cold. She’s retreating. And overeating. The air in the magical idyll of her kitchen sours. It bothers her and it bothers us.

In contrast to Maria’s internal drama, the town of Ladismith is more abuzz than ever. There are two murders this time and it’s complicated, twisty. There’s treasure and history involved. Several strangers swing into town. There’s a baby, a seriously ill child and an old man with a secret obsession. At points it feels like a classic Agatha Christie whodunnit – but this time the activity is centred on a house in town, not at Maria’s stoep table.

The writing has matured over the course of the series. For instance, it’s staggering how much happens in the first ten pages of The Milk Tart Murders, when the writing is so easy to read. That’s skill. Throughout the book, the narrative clips along while Maria struggles, inwardly, to get back on her feet. It’s a poignant contrast.

Just so you know I’m not an acolyte, I will say that in previous books I felt that some of the zanier characters who turned up after murders were overly-cinematic. I like a nostalgic vibe, but I’m not a big fan of zany. In The Milk Tart Murders there is a zany twist, but it works. It’s vintage Sally Andrew.

Paige’s question about reviewing local authors also raised the question of how to be critical without hurting. I think the kindest way to criticize is to praise. The more we identify examples of excellence – and why we think they’re excellent — the better we set the standard.

The Milk Tart Murders is wholly engaging in a subtle and fun way. No over-egging here, Sally Andrew has taken a great recipe and refined it, with elegance, over time.

The characters in The Milk Tart Murders will have you laughing out loud at some of their antics. Andrew has a magical way with words, creating characters we are all acquainted with: The grumpy old man, the town flirt, the rule-breakers…this book features them all!

But Andrew does more than perfectly capture small town life, she has created a cast of characters who tug at your heart strings with their flaws and troubles.

But what about the mystery itself?

A novel can have wonderful characters but a flat and lacklustre mystery at its centre. Luckily for Andrew fans, this is not the case in The Milk Tart Murders. The mystery is compelling and has many twists and turns that will have you hooked from the first page.

Frederick (Oupa Frik) du Toit se oudhedewinkel in Ladismith is meer as net ’n snuffelplek vir liefhebbers van antieke meubels en ander aandenkings uit die verlede. Sy privaat teater waarin hy van sy geliefde klassieke rolprente vertoon, maak ’n belangrike deel van die sosiale kalender op hierdie Klein Karoo-dorpie uit. Toe hy tydens ’n vertoning van ’n epiese Marilyn Monroe-fliek sterf, is almal se eerste gedagte dat dit nie onverwags was nie; hy was immers oor die 90 jaar oud en het aan ’n hartkwaal gely. Maar dan tref die skoknuus die gemeenskap: Oupa Frik is vermoor en sy klagtes oor mense wat hom dopgehou en in sy goed gekrap het en hom genoop het om sy messe skerp te maak, klink skielik na meer as blote paranoia.

Tannie Maria, die gourmetkok en troostannie van die Klein Karoo Gazette, en haar geliefde polisieman, Henk, was self tydens die tragiese gebeure in die teater teenwoordig, en tannie Maria en haar vriendin en kollega, Jessie, met die geitjietatoeëermerke en rooi bromponie, is, ten spyte van Henk se misnoeë, vasbeslote om agter die kap van die byl te kom.  Gerugte van ’n voorwerp van groot waarde tussen Oupa Frik se rommel veroorsaak onmiddellik familie-onmin. Sy vervreemde dogter, Elzaan, is oomblikke na sy dood reeds in ’n vuisgeveg met sy versorger, Helmina, betrokke; sy seun, Abe, sy skoonsuster, Lettie, en haar seun, Tom, verwag almal om die alleenerfgenaam te wees, maar Oupa Frik het die lastige gewoonte gehad om gereeld sy testament te verander, en sy prokureur en eksekuteur, Simon Tillerman, wie se aanwendsel om sy arms te fladder terwyl hy in ’n oorgroot swaelstertbaadjie geklee is, aan ’n menslike vlermuis herinner, het sy hande vol om vrede tussen die klomp te bewaar.

Dan word nog ’n moord gepleeg en hierdie keer is tannie Maria direk betrokke – die oorledene was immers besig om ’n brief aan haar te skryf toe hy gesterf het. Die raaisels word gekompliseer deur die toetrede van nog karakters: die oorledene se gewese geliefde en haar jaloerse man, Henry die hamer; tannie Betty van die kinderhuis, wat Oupa Frik se woonhuis vir die weeskinders in haar sorg benodig; die geheimsinnige verskyning van ’n baba genaamd Frikkadella; en nog ’n handelaar in antieke voorwerpe, kaptein Ben, na wie, na aanleiding van die ou seekaptein in die Kuifie grafiese romans, gemoedelik verwys word as Blistering Barnacles. Almal het gehoop om baat by sy dood te vind – wat die soektog na die moordenaar aansienlik bemoeilik.

Ten spyte van die feit dat tannie Maria meer probleme as slegs twee tergende moorde het (haar geliefde Henk blyk effens te veel in sy mooie buurvrou belang te stel en sy oorlede vrou se rooifluweelkoekresep laat haar snags wakker lê; haar kos wil haar nie meer troos nie; sy begin aan haar beste vriendin se lojaliteit twyfel; en ’n jakkals beland tussen haar hoenders), bly sy getrou aan die karakter wat lesers in die vorige drie romans waarin sy figureer, leer ken en liefkry het: Sy is gelukkig in haar velskoene, maar trek soms fyner voetdrag aan, omdat haar voete ook met tye mooi wil voel; sy sien die wêreld in skakerings van kos en beskryf ’n oranje Ford as die kleur van marmelade en huiwer nie om resepte vir enigeen wat dit benodig te verskaf nie, al is dit ’n bok genaamd Mildred.

Oudergewoonte is daar ook ’n paar ongewone bewoners van Ladismith wat saam gesels: Tannie Engels se albasters loop los rond en haar sêgoed is klassiek. Oupa Frik was 91 jaar oud, maar het, aldus haar, beweer dat hy 96 jaar oud is, omdat hy so graag 100 jaar oud wou word en te lui was om so lank te wag. En moet ook nie waag om die kerkdeur te sluit nie, want dan skreeu sy uit volle bors: “Jou ma se moer! Maak oop!” (222). Nog ’n karakter neem haar toevlug tot vreemde uitdrukkings wanneer sy geskok is: Op bl 11 roep sy uit: “My sussie se vissie!” Dit was heerlik om die “satanic mechanic”, Ricus, ook weer raak te lees. In hierdie roman is sy fokus nie op PTSV nie, maar wel op verslawing, en hy lewer insiggewende en sinvolle bydraes aangaande gewoontevormende patrone en eetversteurings.

Die ontrafeling van die moordraaisels was baie oorspronklik; dis ’n lekkerte vir enige boekliefhebber as ’n biblioteek vol boeke deel van die leesgenot uitmaak. Pogings om die identiteit van die moordenaar deur middel van ’n Excel-program te probeer bepaal, was ook vars en amusant.

Tannie Maria is soos ’n brug in ’n storm; haar opregtheid en ongekunsteldheid verskaf ’n wyle se ontvlugting van die stortreën wat so gereeld in die werklike lewe woed. ’n Addisionele bonus in haar boeke is natuurlik dat die resepte waarna in die teks verwys word, volledig agterin die boeke gedruk is. Hierdie boek is geen uitsondering nie – die resepte, getoets deur Sophia-Maria Eygelaar, verskyn op ble 349–87. Ek het die voorreg gehad om die fudge te proe … Hemels! Dit laat die leser natuurlik met die aangename dilemma oor waar om die boek te liasseer: fiksie of resepte?

Die roman is die vierde in die reeks (die vorige titels is Recipes for love and murder, The satanic mechanic en Death on the Limpopo) en sy vrystelling het, uiters gepas, so met Nasionale Melktertdag (27 Februarie) saamgeval. Dis ook aangewys as Bargain Books se boek van die maand. Die voorgangers het van tannie Maria ’n legende gemaak: Die boeke is in 14 tale vertaal en word op vyf kontinente gelees, en ’n gelyknamige TV-reeks, Recipes for love and murder, word later vanjaar vrygestel.