For my taste, Lisa Wingate novels are hit and miss. While I admire this Christian novelist for her ability to cross over into the mainstream market, some of her novels I’ve found too anemic – the characters familiar, the plot predictable, the premise bland. Tending Roses, her 2001 debut with New American Library, comes to mind.
But this one’s different.
In A Month of Summer, we find Rebecca Macklin, a successful California attorney, reluctantly flying to Dallas, to the home of her father and her stepmother from whom she has long been estranged. Her father now suffers from Alzheimer’s, and her stepmother, Hanna Beth, has suffered a debilitating stroke, landing her in a nursing home and rendering her incapable of caring for her husband and her mentally-challenged son. That responsibility, at least temporarily, falls to Rebecca, who has left a score of her own problems at home. Hanna Beth, for her part, is just as unwilling to receive Rebecca’s help, but circumstances compel them to rely on each other. And as they do, the ghosts of old betrayals emerge, and the two women forge a new relationship, this one based on forgiveness and truth.
In A Month of Summer, I savored Wingate’s literary prose, which was often lyrical but not overblown. I appreciated her elegant but thorough narration, using just two point-of-view characters, Rebecca and Hanna Beth. In Rebecca, especially, I found a protagonist I could relate to. Even if her problems weren’t exactly mine, her fears and worries, and (I hope) her strength of character were ones I could identify with. I also liked Wingate’s premise and her plotting, which included a compelling beginning and enough surprises at the end to make for a very satisfying read.
All of which left me wishing for more novels of this caliber from Lisa Wingate.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Black and Blue, book review
If you’ve ever wondered why a woman would stay in an abusive marriage – and what would finally compel her to leave it – read Black and Blue by Anna Quindlen.
In this novel, an Oprah’s Book Club pick, Quindlen introduces Fran Benedetto, fleeing the familiarity of home, her work as a nurse, and regular beatings at the hands of her NYC cop husband, Bobby. Disappearing into the vastness of America, Fran takes with her their twelve year old son, Robert, and assumes a new identity as Beth Crenshaw in Florida. There, though freed from abuse, Beth faces new challenges – the making of friends; navigation of romance; ambivalence of her son; painful self-analysis; and daily fear of discovery and dread of what Bobby will do if he finds them.
Quindlen writes without embellishment, yet her straightforward account digs deep into Beth’s psyche. In Beth, we find a strong and sympathetic protagonist whose problems do not end when she leaves her abusive marriage. Quindlen includes a cast of well-rounded characters that allows a multi-faceted view of Beth’s situation: Cindy, the loyal new friend with a secret of her own; Grace, the fiercely protective younger sister left behind; Robert, the son bewildered by his feelings toward the father who loved him but who mistreated his mother; and Mike, the supremely kind man who waits patiently for Beth to return his love.
The pleasure of reading what otherwise might be a pretty grim novel springs from Quindlen’s clear prose, strong storylines, and her admirable restraint from moralizing. And though we’re not left with a purely happy ending, the author leaves that door cracked enough that we can hope happiness might someday walk in.
In this novel, an Oprah’s Book Club pick, Quindlen introduces Fran Benedetto, fleeing the familiarity of home, her work as a nurse, and regular beatings at the hands of her NYC cop husband, Bobby. Disappearing into the vastness of America, Fran takes with her their twelve year old son, Robert, and assumes a new identity as Beth Crenshaw in Florida. There, though freed from abuse, Beth faces new challenges – the making of friends; navigation of romance; ambivalence of her son; painful self-analysis; and daily fear of discovery and dread of what Bobby will do if he finds them.
Quindlen writes without embellishment, yet her straightforward account digs deep into Beth’s psyche. In Beth, we find a strong and sympathetic protagonist whose problems do not end when she leaves her abusive marriage. Quindlen includes a cast of well-rounded characters that allows a multi-faceted view of Beth’s situation: Cindy, the loyal new friend with a secret of her own; Grace, the fiercely protective younger sister left behind; Robert, the son bewildered by his feelings toward the father who loved him but who mistreated his mother; and Mike, the supremely kind man who waits patiently for Beth to return his love.
The pleasure of reading what otherwise might be a pretty grim novel springs from Quindlen’s clear prose, strong storylines, and her admirable restraint from moralizing. And though we’re not left with a purely happy ending, the author leaves that door cracked enough that we can hope happiness might someday walk in.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, book review
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, an unusual novel with an unusual name, was also written by an unusual duo, an aunt-niece team comprised of Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. The book was the brainchild of Shaffer, but when she became too ill to continue the project, she enlisted the help of her niece, Barrows, a writer of children’s stories. (Sadly, Shaffer died shortly after Guernsey’s publication.) Together, Shaffer and Barrows crafted a novel which continues to be embraced by book clubs around the world.
Set in England just after the end of World War II, the story opens as Juliet Ashton, a twenty-something British writer, receives a letter from a stranger, Dawsey Adams, a farmer living on Guernsey, one of the Channel Islands occupied by the Germans during the war. It sparks a correspondence that leads eventually to Juliet’s visit to the island to gather stories about the occupation for her latest literary project. There, she learns about the heroic Elizabeth, credited with establishing the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Though they never meet, Juliet finds herself drawn to Elizabeth’s strength of spirit and to the legacy that endures long after Elizabeth’s death.
The story unfolds by way of a series of letters written by a cast of quirky characters, allowing a wide range of voice as well as deep point of view. As each character delivers a new piece of the tale from his or her vantage point (and wrapped in his or her prejudices), we’re given intimate access to the characters’ motivations, foibles and idiosyncrasies…all that makes them unique and therefore interesting. While a novel of letters means a rather disjointed narrative and poses the challenge of sorting out who’s who and what’s what, especially at the start, it’s worth the effort. Elizabeth, though she remains off-stage for the duration, provides the glue that holds the story together, while a gently unfolding romance provides a hoped for and sweetly satisfying ending.
Set in England just after the end of World War II, the story opens as Juliet Ashton, a twenty-something British writer, receives a letter from a stranger, Dawsey Adams, a farmer living on Guernsey, one of the Channel Islands occupied by the Germans during the war. It sparks a correspondence that leads eventually to Juliet’s visit to the island to gather stories about the occupation for her latest literary project. There, she learns about the heroic Elizabeth, credited with establishing the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Though they never meet, Juliet finds herself drawn to Elizabeth’s strength of spirit and to the legacy that endures long after Elizabeth’s death.
The story unfolds by way of a series of letters written by a cast of quirky characters, allowing a wide range of voice as well as deep point of view. As each character delivers a new piece of the tale from his or her vantage point (and wrapped in his or her prejudices), we’re given intimate access to the characters’ motivations, foibles and idiosyncrasies…all that makes them unique and therefore interesting. While a novel of letters means a rather disjointed narrative and poses the challenge of sorting out who’s who and what’s what, especially at the start, it’s worth the effort. Elizabeth, though she remains off-stage for the duration, provides the glue that holds the story together, while a gently unfolding romance provides a hoped for and sweetly satisfying ending.
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