Imagine you are created--not born--to dwell in a perfect world in absolute harmony. Imagine that one fateful day, you make a choice that not only thrusts you into exile from paradise, but condemns all of creation to pay for your mistake. Imagine that you must then make your way in this hostile world without precedent to guide you….
Imagine.
That’s exactly what Tosca Lee does in her novel, Havah: The Story of Eve. With lush prose, she paints a sensual paradise before leading her readers through the crushing moments surrounding the fall, then into the abyss of unspeakable loss and guilt that follows. In fictionalizing the story of Havah (Eve), Lee courageously treads where many a Christian writer would fear to venture, wielding her imagination both creatively and responsibly.
I struggled, nonetheless, to relate to this Eve, whose relationship with her adam (man) after the fall is fraught with tension to the point of enmity. Even more disturbing is their dearth of communion with the One that Is. Though we’re given tantalizing, fleeting glimpses of Him in Eden, He all but disappears (though He is longed for) after the banishment and humanity’s relentless slide toward death.
Of course, that’s probably the point. But still--it made for bleak reading, especially after Kayin (Cain) kills Hevel (Abel), and what remains of the plot’s propelling tension unravels.
Though Lee is faithful to hint at humanity’s hope for rescue--of redemption from its fallen state--Havah ultimately lacks the wow factor I was hoping for.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
My Soul to Keep, book review
I waited years to hear more from Melanie Wells and was thrilled to finally spot her latest on Amazon. In My Soul to Keep, the third of the Day of Evil series, psychology professor Dylan Foster’s young friend, Christine Zocci, celebrates her sixth birthday at a park where a little boy, Nicholas, is snatched by a stranger. As the police commence their search, every clue fizzles to failure, while Christine’s eerie connection to the boy leads Dylan on an investigation of her own. Dodging the mysterious Peter Terry’s attempts to thwart her, Dylan remains dogged to the end in her quest for the truth.
Who would not want to spend time with this charmingly flawed, outspoken heroine (entirely too prim a term for the intrepid Dr. Dylan Foster)? A thoroughly beguiling Christian, neck-deep in boyfriend woes, who freely admits that, “if Christianity were a merit-based society, I would have gotten kicked out years ago. ... I never go to Bible study, don’t keep a prayer journal or do the morning ‘quiet time’ thing. I only remember to pray in emergency situations. The truth is, I really don’t have time or energy for all that checklisty stuff.”
Makes me wish I could join her in one of those "let's get real" conversations, preferably over one of her famous glasses of pinot grigio.
This novel has it all: taut pacing, spicy voice, a dash of romance--a superbly crafted suspense. If pressed to provide a criticism, I would offer up only this: the cover, in its sepia tones, conveys a grimness not reflected in the story. Don’t let the macabre artwork scare you away. If ever a book should not be judged by its cover, it's this one.
May the next wait not be so long for a Melanie Wells novel, whether it’s another installment in this series, or something entirely new. In either case, if it’s anything like My Soul to Keep, it’ll be well worth the wait.
Who would not want to spend time with this charmingly flawed, outspoken heroine (entirely too prim a term for the intrepid Dr. Dylan Foster)? A thoroughly beguiling Christian, neck-deep in boyfriend woes, who freely admits that, “if Christianity were a merit-based society, I would have gotten kicked out years ago. ... I never go to Bible study, don’t keep a prayer journal or do the morning ‘quiet time’ thing. I only remember to pray in emergency situations. The truth is, I really don’t have time or energy for all that checklisty stuff.”
Makes me wish I could join her in one of those "let's get real" conversations, preferably over one of her famous glasses of pinot grigio.
This novel has it all: taut pacing, spicy voice, a dash of romance--a superbly crafted suspense. If pressed to provide a criticism, I would offer up only this: the cover, in its sepia tones, conveys a grimness not reflected in the story. Don’t let the macabre artwork scare you away. If ever a book should not be judged by its cover, it's this one.
May the next wait not be so long for a Melanie Wells novel, whether it’s another installment in this series, or something entirely new. In either case, if it’s anything like My Soul to Keep, it’ll be well worth the wait.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Genoa Bay, book review
I like “fresh start” stories and so when Genoa Bay, the latest by one of my most admired Christian novelists, hit the shelves, I was among the first in line. I appreciate Bette Nordberg’s fresh prose and have been especially drawn to her sensitive-yet-authentic portrayal of real-life issues such as domestic violence (Serenity Bay), marital infidelity (Pacific Hope), AIDS and homosexuality (A Season of Grace). With that in mind, I dove into the first pages of this beautifully-bound novel with much anticipation.
And I was off to a good start, with an enigmatic opening line: God talks to me. Thus, I was introduced to Brandy Beauchamp, a Navy widow with a young daughter, who leaves her comfortable life in Pensacola to tackle the renovation of a decrepit bed-and-breakfast in Genoa Bay, British Columbia. There, she catches the eye of another ex-patriot, Cliff, a divorced dad with twin boys, whose attention she returns with ambivalence. Her decision to open the B&B garners a different kind of attention, however, from the owner of the nearby marina, who wants to buy her land in order to develop a posh waterfront community. Overcoming increasing odds, Brandy must decide whether her dream is worth the price as she also learns to trust the Voice of God that guides her.
Throughout, Nordberg paints a pretty picture, deftly imbuing Genoa Bay, the novel, with a vivid sense of Genoa Bay, the place. But there are other elements that rub the sheen off the charm of this story. The strict linear narrative (even considering the occasional flashbacks) becomes predictable. Dialogue sometimes sags, as when it's used to tell the readers something the characters would already know. (The phone call between Brandy and her boss, for example.) And as a lover of romance, I find the chemistry between the heroine and her love-interest lacking. Many of Brandy’s reactions to Cliff seem overblown and unsupported by the narrative--such as when she calls him an unusual man (in a mostly flattering way). I just don't see it.
Smaller issues should have caught an editor’s eye: the occasional (and confusing) inconsistency in verb tense; the naming two different boys “James;” the mention of Brandy’s daughter on the back cover as five years old, while on the first page, she’s seven.
In Writing the Breakout Novel, literary agent Donald Maass exhorts writers to create tension on every page--tension, as defined as those unexpected turns of plot and character that keep hungry readers turning pages. Genoa Bay lacked that kind of tension. It was a nice, gentle story, but little more.
And I was off to a good start, with an enigmatic opening line: God talks to me. Thus, I was introduced to Brandy Beauchamp, a Navy widow with a young daughter, who leaves her comfortable life in Pensacola to tackle the renovation of a decrepit bed-and-breakfast in Genoa Bay, British Columbia. There, she catches the eye of another ex-patriot, Cliff, a divorced dad with twin boys, whose attention she returns with ambivalence. Her decision to open the B&B garners a different kind of attention, however, from the owner of the nearby marina, who wants to buy her land in order to develop a posh waterfront community. Overcoming increasing odds, Brandy must decide whether her dream is worth the price as she also learns to trust the Voice of God that guides her.
Throughout, Nordberg paints a pretty picture, deftly imbuing Genoa Bay, the novel, with a vivid sense of Genoa Bay, the place. But there are other elements that rub the sheen off the charm of this story. The strict linear narrative (even considering the occasional flashbacks) becomes predictable. Dialogue sometimes sags, as when it's used to tell the readers something the characters would already know. (The phone call between Brandy and her boss, for example.) And as a lover of romance, I find the chemistry between the heroine and her love-interest lacking. Many of Brandy’s reactions to Cliff seem overblown and unsupported by the narrative--such as when she calls him an unusual man (in a mostly flattering way). I just don't see it.
Smaller issues should have caught an editor’s eye: the occasional (and confusing) inconsistency in verb tense; the naming two different boys “James;” the mention of Brandy’s daughter on the back cover as five years old, while on the first page, she’s seven.
In Writing the Breakout Novel, literary agent Donald Maass exhorts writers to create tension on every page--tension, as defined as those unexpected turns of plot and character that keep hungry readers turning pages. Genoa Bay lacked that kind of tension. It was a nice, gentle story, but little more.
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