The pleasure of reading one of Susan Meissner’s books is like eating bread and butter – a simple joy, but basic and satisfying.
Blue Heart Blessed introduces us to Daisy Murien who, after being jilted at the altar, opens a wedding boutique that specializes in secondhand wedding dresses – starting with her own. And yet, though the sight of it brings her heartache, she can’t quite let go of her own gown - not even when she has the perfect buyer for it. While trying to make sense of this, a dear friend – the Episcopal priest who blesses the blue satin hearts Daisy weaves into the lining of each dress – becomes ill. When his recently divorced son tries to take him away, Daisy’s wounded heart at last throbs back to life. And finally she understands that the reason she cannot let go of her own wedding dress is because she hasn’t quite given up on love.
Meissner’s prose is (as usual) clean and clear. I found her protagonist agreeable company, easy-to-relate-to despite – or perhaps because of – her flaws. I liked Meissner’s device of using her protagonist’s advice-wielding alter-ego, Harriet, to reveal the inner workings of her heart. I liked the symbolism of the blue heart that Daisy sews into each second-hand wedding dress. And finally, I liked the reason Daisy is finally able to sell her own gown.
In Blue Heart Blessed, Meissner offers a romance delivered in her trademark style: without frills, but a sweet story, well-told.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
Chosen, book review
In Chosen, her debut novel, author Chandra Hoffman unveils an idealistic adoption caseworker who becomes entangled in the lives of adoptive and birth parents, with shattering results. It all begins with Chloe Pinter, who believes she’s living the dream in Portland, Oregon as she matches birth parents with adoptive parents. She feels the “honor of being a part of such an important moment” – in the creation of a family. The satisfaction she gets from her work shields her from the stresses of her personal life, including her moody, beautiful boyfriend. But her job satisfaction begins to crumble as the messiness of her clients’ lives intrudes. First, there are the Novas, the attractive, still-in-love couple who endured years of infertility before conceiving their own child. There’s also Francie McAdoo, the desperate half of a wealthy couple for whom adoption is a last chance. Finally, there’s Jason and Penny, the down-on-their luck couple who have nothing – except the baby Francie wants more than anything. Then a baby goes missing, and dreams descend into nightmares, forcing everyone to reconsider what he or she really wants – and how to get it back.
Though I’d rate it R for language and sexual situations, Chosen was one of those books I read with awe and envy. How does a young novelist write with such depth and insight and imagination – and do it all superbly the first time out of the gate? This novel, in my opinion, has it all. Interesting, gritty, human characters – many of whom I would love to know personally – and others I would not. Storytelling masterfully balanced between character-driven and plot. And holding it all together, wordsmithing that ranks with the best of them.
In addition to these externals, the author herself provides another reason I liked this book so much. In her Author’s Notes, she remarks, “I wanted to tell a story in which there are no heroes or villains, just shades of gray, real people trying to recover from their stumbles with grace.”
That’s life. That’s real – and in this case, eminently readable.
Though I’d rate it R for language and sexual situations, Chosen was one of those books I read with awe and envy. How does a young novelist write with such depth and insight and imagination – and do it all superbly the first time out of the gate? This novel, in my opinion, has it all. Interesting, gritty, human characters – many of whom I would love to know personally – and others I would not. Storytelling masterfully balanced between character-driven and plot. And holding it all together, wordsmithing that ranks with the best of them.
In addition to these externals, the author herself provides another reason I liked this book so much. In her Author’s Notes, she remarks, “I wanted to tell a story in which there are no heroes or villains, just shades of gray, real people trying to recover from their stumbles with grace.”
That’s life. That’s real – and in this case, eminently readable.
Monday, January 17, 2011
South of Broad, book review
The last time I read a Pat Conroy novel was probably fifteen years ago. I’m not a particular fan, though I can see why he remains a perennial bestseller. To quote his flyleaf, Conroy possesses “a passion for life and language that knows no bounds.” To that, I’ll add that I like the way he makes setting a character all to itself, and as well as the way his characters surprise me with what they say and do. With that in mind, when South of Broad, one of his more recent tomes came to my attention, I decided to give it a try.
When Charleston born-and-bred Leo King’s older brother commits suicide at age ten, it plunges Leo into a pit of darkness that he begins to emerge from ten years later, at the start of his high school senior year. Not coincidentally, that’s also the year he becomes a part of a tightly knit group of friends ranging from a debutante, a black teenager with a chip on his shoulder the size of Fort Sumter, a brother-and-sister pair of orphans, and glamorous twins – one destined for the cinema, the other to die of AIDS. Over the next twenty years, their friendship is tested as they set out together on the quest of a lifetime, along the way unearthing secrets they never imagined existed.
This luscious novel begins well, introducing a plethora of intriguing characters, engrossing plot questions, and of course, the kind of compelling Southern setting Conroy’s famous for. But then – perhaps a third of the way through – flashback. A big one. This, I resisted because by then, I’d gotten to know the characters as grown-ups. I really wasn’t interested in devolving into their teenage angst, even if it did help to explain the adults they would become. It felt too much like telling, and I’d have preferred it shown.
By then, too, I was able to figure out the novel’s big secret, and it was too soon. I didn’t like knowing it so quickly or easily (really, I was hardly even trying). I wanted the suspense to sustain so that I might enjoy the surprise closer to the climax.
Which is all to say that I was disappointed in South of Broad, and suspect it may be another fifteen years before I try another of Pat Conroy’s books.
When Charleston born-and-bred Leo King’s older brother commits suicide at age ten, it plunges Leo into a pit of darkness that he begins to emerge from ten years later, at the start of his high school senior year. Not coincidentally, that’s also the year he becomes a part of a tightly knit group of friends ranging from a debutante, a black teenager with a chip on his shoulder the size of Fort Sumter, a brother-and-sister pair of orphans, and glamorous twins – one destined for the cinema, the other to die of AIDS. Over the next twenty years, their friendship is tested as they set out together on the quest of a lifetime, along the way unearthing secrets they never imagined existed.
This luscious novel begins well, introducing a plethora of intriguing characters, engrossing plot questions, and of course, the kind of compelling Southern setting Conroy’s famous for. But then – perhaps a third of the way through – flashback. A big one. This, I resisted because by then, I’d gotten to know the characters as grown-ups. I really wasn’t interested in devolving into their teenage angst, even if it did help to explain the adults they would become. It felt too much like telling, and I’d have preferred it shown.
By then, too, I was able to figure out the novel’s big secret, and it was too soon. I didn’t like knowing it so quickly or easily (really, I was hardly even trying). I wanted the suspense to sustain so that I might enjoy the surprise closer to the climax.
Which is all to say that I was disappointed in South of Broad, and suspect it may be another fifteen years before I try another of Pat Conroy’s books.
Monday, January 10, 2011
The Love Season, book review
Though it’s true you can’t judge a book by its cover, the cover was what made me pick up The Love Season by Elin Hilderbrand, an author who was new to me. Something about the beach scene depicting a weathered old rowboat and a solitary young woman silhouetted against a peach-hued sky made me want to see if the book would live up to its evocative artwork.
Set on idyllic Nantucket Island, The Love Season weaves together two stories – of Renata, who at nineteen is newly engaged and arrives with her fiancé on the island to announce their engagement to his wealthy parents; and of Marguerite, the godmother Renata does not know, a once-famous chef with a terrible secret. When Renata calls Marguerite and asks to meet, it sets in motion a day that goes not as planned for either of them – and changes the rest of their lives forever.
For a story that takes place in a single day and spends at least half its time exploring the past, this book has remarkable forward pull. Hilderbrand crafted her two protagonists masterfully, giving them enough quirks and foibles to fascinate, yet with enough strengths to make one believe they could overcome their own frailties to find happiness again. That said, there are a few particularly titillating plot elements that made my moral sensibilities clench, and the final chapters includes some strange jumps in point-of-view, which I found odd for a writer of this caliber. Until the end, Hilderbrand maintained a strict two-person POV. Then, without warning, she added brief snippets of others’. (In one scene, POV jumps between three characters within space of a single page, which after the focused clarity of the first two-hundred-some pages I found head-spinning. It also made me wonder a) what was Hilderbrand thinking, and b) why did her editors allow it?) All the same, it was a satisfying read, with one line toward the end making all the others worthwhile. Hilderbrand possesses a deft narrative touch, and I’ll be keeping an eye out for more from her.
Set on idyllic Nantucket Island, The Love Season weaves together two stories – of Renata, who at nineteen is newly engaged and arrives with her fiancé on the island to announce their engagement to his wealthy parents; and of Marguerite, the godmother Renata does not know, a once-famous chef with a terrible secret. When Renata calls Marguerite and asks to meet, it sets in motion a day that goes not as planned for either of them – and changes the rest of their lives forever.
For a story that takes place in a single day and spends at least half its time exploring the past, this book has remarkable forward pull. Hilderbrand crafted her two protagonists masterfully, giving them enough quirks and foibles to fascinate, yet with enough strengths to make one believe they could overcome their own frailties to find happiness again. That said, there are a few particularly titillating plot elements that made my moral sensibilities clench, and the final chapters includes some strange jumps in point-of-view, which I found odd for a writer of this caliber. Until the end, Hilderbrand maintained a strict two-person POV. Then, without warning, she added brief snippets of others’. (In one scene, POV jumps between three characters within space of a single page, which after the focused clarity of the first two-hundred-some pages I found head-spinning. It also made me wonder a) what was Hilderbrand thinking, and b) why did her editors allow it?) All the same, it was a satisfying read, with one line toward the end making all the others worthwhile. Hilderbrand possesses a deft narrative touch, and I’ll be keeping an eye out for more from her.